The Billionaire's Wife (A Steamy BWWM Marriage of Convenience Romance Novel) (12 page)
Read The Billionaire's Wife (A Steamy BWWM Marriage of Convenience Romance Novel) Online
Authors: Mia Caldwell
“I can’t
accept that, Doctor,” I told him calmly.
“I am…very
sorry to hear that,” Doctor Greene paused. “Then I’m afraid that the likelihood
of us finding a suitable lung in time –
two
lungs in time – is simply impossible.”
“Then you
called me here to waste my time?” I stood up furiously, hands on my hips as I
stared out at the skyline. “Doc, I already
knew
that I was dying. Do you have
any
fucking
idea of how little of that I have left?”
“You pay me
to provide options at any cost. I’ve provided one. A partial match transplant
might buy you a few years of time. It may be years of excruciating pain and
every breath will be difficult, but time brings possibilities. You will remain
bedridden, but drugs can reduce the pain. Medicine will advance in the time you
gain. New therapies are on the horizon that could potentially improve your
quality of life. Perhaps a second donor with a genetic match will miraculously
appear. Without this risk there is no hope. I respect how little time you have
left. According to the revisions we received with the latest results,” the
doctor calmly but sadly waved to the folder on his desk, “you have, if we are
being optimistic, less than three weeks.”
I took a deep
breath, angry at the way it failed to fill my lungs the way it might have a few
short years ago. I could sense their impending failure.
“I’ve taken
the liberty of putting you on the transplant list.”
“Thank you,
Doctor.”
Part
Three
Kiona
Just like that, Cole Andrews left.
I thought
that we had something the night before. Sure, maybe I was overreacting a little
bit, but it had been the first time I’d had sex in over
five years,
so I considered myself up for a little indignation at
how dismissive he had been.
Did I want a
nice, relaxing morning-after?
Yeah. Of
course I did. After all, we’d just consummated this sham of a marriage!
Cole had
never said a word about having some pressing matter in the morning. I fell
asleep to mental pictures of being woken with breakfast in bed – he said
he was an ace in the kitchen, after all – and of snuggling together and
enjoying our own intimate company for the remainder of the day. Maybe I’d take
the reigns this time. I’d show him what pleasure truly could be…
At least, that
was the plan until he rushed out on some business trip or something. I didn’t
really want to come along with him when he was dashing off to wherever the hell
he was going, but I wanted to save a
little
of the magic from the previous night. Foolishly, I thought that showing
some interest in joining him on his trip would demonstrate that I cared.
And then, he
wouldn’t tell me a
thing
about what
he was doing! I mean, what the
hell
was
up with
that?
I rose from
the bedding furiously, leaving my clothes where they remained on the bed. My
fresh garments were still in the suitcases, sitting in the guestroom that he
had given me for my trip, and I walked naked across the house towards it.
In my fury, I
hadn’t heard the maid working in the kitchen, and accidentally padded straight
out in front of her.
“
Aiiiii!
”
“
AHHH!
”
She was
covering her eyes as I ducked back the way I’d come, additional indignation
thrown onto the fire. I quickly, quietly darted back towards the room, tossing
my clothes back on and heading back out that way. When I crossed around the
kitchen this time, I was performing
another
walk of shame, thanks to one Cole Andrews – and this time, there was
actual sex involved in the proceedings.
The maid
clearly tried to ignore me as I walked past, both of us eager to try and forget
the entire thing. Strolling over to my guest room, I pulled out a change of
clothes, and then stepped into the refreshing, soothing relaxation of the
shower.
I took the
time to try and really enjoy the hot water as it cascaded down my body. Cole
had gone out of his way to supply a number of beauty care products – he
had probably hired someone to pick them out and have them delivered. It was a
nice, gracious touch, even if I was totally pissed at him for his dismissive
departure this morning.
After the
shower, I dressed myself in the prettiest dress that I owned. That was when I
realized that I was probably trapped here until he came back, considering that
I lacked a key to the private elevator.
Grumbling
furiously to myself, I started unpacking my clothing into the furniture of the
guest room. It was only when I was storing my socks away that I noticed
something glimmering in the light on a shelf near the door. Temporarily
preoccupied, I walked over and snatched up a key on a ring, a note, and a guest
credit card with a microchip.
Dear Key,
Here’s a little something to get by if I need to
pop out for a little while. Enclosed is a private key to the elevator –
DO NOT LOSE THIS – along with a credit card exclusively for your use. The
credit limit is fifteen thousand per day, so don’t go too nuts.
I smiled to
myself.
Cole had
apparently never learned that the last thing you do with a woman scorned is arm
her with money, although a) he probably did this yesterday and b) fifteen grand
a day, to him, was very likely the equivalent of pocket change.
Still, I
happily took the card and the key, depositing both in my purse before pausing
on the unpacking front. After all, I now had
not only
a “Leave as you please” pass, but enough money that I
could actually touch to
finally
take
Aiswarya up on some libation-based merriment!
I whipped
open my phone and sent her a text –
Hey
girl, let’s get drinks!
Deciding to
go ahead and clean up the mess of my open trunk while I waited, I giddily
tossed the clothes in their respective drawers and hung up a few dresses,
blouses, and miniskirts before she finally texted back:
I take it you’re back in town. Free at 6PM.
“You know,” I
spoke aloud to myself as I glanced at my open suitcase, “I really didn’t pack
enough clothes to last me however long I’m staying here…I mean, I
couldn’t
have, anyway. There’s no way my
wardrobe was fitting in these suitcases…”
My eyes fell
on the open closet.
It’s so empty.
“I have the
resources…might as
well
throw myself
on Cole’s generosity…I mean, it would be rude
not
to, right?”
With a smug
glance in the mirror, I snatched up my purse and high-tailed it for the private
elevator. My little patch of embarrassment with the maid was totally off my
mind as I confidently powerwalked past her, my heels clicking on the tile.
I am going to MAKE this day awesome.
Kiona
The first thing on my agenda was
breakfast. Cole had left in such a hurry that he hadn’t bothered to think of
how I was going to feed myself, so I thought I’d start by treating myself to
the fancy restaurant I’d passed on the street for years – Adlebaum’s.
Adlebaum’s
styled itself as an ostentatious little spot in one of the most happening
streets in my almost day-to-day life. Formerly known as
Harry’s
, then
Harry’s
Cuisine,
the proprietor had eventually stepped up his branding game by
going with his weird but somehow posh surname. The menu, itself, experienced
some sharp turnover with the name change – formerly known for somewhat
uninspired and unfulfilling meals, he’d invested in an infamously difficult but
inspired top chef, as well as some quality line cooks for support.
The result
was a complete one-eighty in not only the quality of the menu selections, but
the clientele themselves. In two weeks, the place went from barely scraping by
to one of the surprise hits of the winter restaurant season, and the success
only started to pile on top.
That, of
course, brought along an extravagant, across-the-board rise in prices, firmly
placing the esteemed establishment beyond what I could ever comfortably afford.
But that was
the old Kiona.
The
new
Kiona had millions of dollars in a
Swiss bank account, a credit card with a fifteen thousand dollar daily limit,
and got herself married to a billionaire.
Adlebaum’s
was only open for two and a half hours in the mornings, starting at 11 AM. By
the time that I walked through the door, that put me less than an hour from
closing time, but I was in no rush. After all, I could afford to enjoy myself,
both in time and in money.
The hostess,
a spry little thing with long, curly hair, seated me at a small two-top table
aside the wall. The server, a tired-looking but radiant little Italian girl, appeared
almost instantly. I surveyed the menu she took my drink order – just
water for now – and I looked over everything.
The lunch
selection was to die for, so I eagerly signed up for a cup of signature, creamy
potato soup, followed by a grilled chicken Caesar salad with a significant
twist – their specialty was still tossed in the signature dressing, but
swapped the romaine lettuce for mixed greens with a zest of lemon spritz, added
sliced egg and a couple of red onion choppings, and tossed a light, seasoned
tossing of toasted bacon bits into the mix. Upon request, my entrée was
delivered with a delicious, bubbly mimosa to get my day started just right.
The salad was
somewhat simple, but a burst of surprisingly complementing flavors. I completed
my meal with a slice of New York style cheesecake with a drizzled, homemade,
dark chocolate topping over a few slices of strawberry.
Full of good
food and a delicious drink, when the check came I called back onto my two years
of struggling as a waitress, and I was in such a better mood with Cole’s card
burning a hole in my purse that I left her a tip double the cost of my entire
check.
Once I’d
stroked
Adlebaum’s
off my mental
bucket list, I moved on to the rest of my day. Unfortunately, it only occurred
to me that a clothes shopping spree
after
a filling meal was perhaps not the
best
strategy,
but I decided to grin and bear it and just suck it up.
It also occurred
to me that I had spent so much time focusing on living paycheck to paycheck
that I hadn’t really bothered to focus on
me.
Glancing down at my dress, I thought to myself,
Well…that’s just not going to do, now, is it?
But I was at somewhat
of a loss as to where to go.
A few minutes
tapping away on the smartphone later, and I had a few places to start in mind.
There were some luxury stores in the area, a few swanky clothing shops here and
there – the fancy stuff that was so prohibitively expensive that I could
never even dream of walking in the door.
And I knew
just where to start.
Empire 208
was a premier retailer in the area that prided itself on exquisite culture and
premium service. I’d heard of the place in passing – everybody had at
least done
that
– but I had
expected something that was trendy in that hallow, sterile kind of way that you
seen in the obnoxiously self-absorbed shops.
This
definitely
wasn’t that. Empire 208 was
wall-to-wall class, built upon foundational interplay between glass and color.
The lights shone in various levels of the spectrum, somehow bathing the place
in ample light that showed off exactly how the clothes looked while reminding
me of a modern art museum. Interestingly, there were also several different
pieces of long-form, looped ambiance that overlapped in complementary ways
– as if separate sections of the same song, easily combining or shifting
apart depending on how one traversed the store. In the exact center, all five
pieces crossed over into a phenomenal arrangement that sounded like nothing I’d
ever heard.
The
attendants, too, were dressed to work well against the otherworldly nature of
the store. In crisp, white shoulderless dresses with simple belts and boots,
the staff strolled across the store and assisted the customers as if they were
royalty, with exaggerated gestures, restraint, and grace.
“
Velcome to Empiyuh Two-oh-at
,” a
charmingly young European girl with extraordinarily pale skin and a short,
blond pixie cut greeted me. Her sharp eyes summed me up from head to toe, and
she looked back up with veiled amusement – although her strong, strange
accent almost pulled the same reaction from me. “
How cane I halp?”
With a smile,
I squared my shoulders, lifted my chin, and donned an air of class. “Darling,
I’m caught out without my proper clothes, and I could
so
use some refreshment…these rags are
such
a bother.”
The attendant
immediately nodded with large, sympathetic eyes. “
Ah yes, tot-tilly understood. Ve shall feex you up, Madame…?
”
“Andrews,” I
answered.
“
Madame Andrews,
” she smiled. “
I am Svetlana. Come vith me, and ve shall
make you ze prize of ze city.”
Thick-accented
Svetlana led me along the store, helping me choose some extraordinary products
ranging from shawls to boots to blouses and more. The darling little girl
couldn’t have been older than eighteen years old, but she carried herself with
the elegance and sophistication of a woman easily several times her age. I
found myself charmed by the young, slender creature as she led me across the aisles
– if you could really call them that – and eagerly grasped at rows
upon rows of products.
“
Oh, Madame Andrews, you must try zis, and zis,
and one of zees…
”
After thirty
minutes of casually scrutinizing my shape and size between clothing
recommendations, Svetlana ushered me towards a fitting room with a stack of
clothing. While I tried outfits on, my lithe little attendant gracefully sat
nearby on an ottoman, one leg dangled across the other, her thin fingers
dancing along the smartphone in her grasp.
“What do you
think?” I asked, stepping from the room.
Her eyes lit
up as they trailed along the hundreds upon hundreds of dollars gracing my body.
With a widening grin, she jumped up from her perch, the smartphone disappearing
quickly into a pocket.
“
The very peekture of elegance,”
she
chirped happily, waving me back into the room. “
I cannot vait to zee more…”
Half an hour
later, I walked out of the store with a massive smile on my face and three
thousand dollars of clothing in a pair of premium bags. With my phone pointing
me the way, I set my sights towards the next store in my shopping spree.
I could
seriously get comfortable being married to a young billionaire.