Accidentally Married to the Billionaire (The Billionaire's Touch, #1) (8 page)

Marj stared at the marriage certificate. “Brandon Cates. Why does that sound familiar?”

“Uh, you married me.”

“No, not that! Who are you? I mean how would I know you besides obviously the shitfaced and stupid part?”

“CEO of Power Regions?”

“Double shit. You’re my new boss! I have GOT to call Britt!”

“What?”

“My best friend. She inadvertently screwed her boss a while back, and I gave her hell for being so dumb...and now I owe her a laugh at my expense,” she said, “I’ve screwed and married my new boss within, probably, a few hours of meeting him. Did I know you were my boss?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, then it’s even stupider. She, at least, had no idea. And it was technically her boss’s son. Well, our boss’s son at the time. The boss died—natural causes, don’t worry. But, I can’t even claim ignorance,” she shook her head, “what could I have been thinking? I mean obviously, you’re....”

“I’m what?”

“You know what you are.”

“What am I?” he asked disingenuously.

“You’re hot. Mega hot. However, I’ve never run down the aisle for a hot guy or any other. Looks wouldn’t be enough.”

“Your roommate moved out, and the rent is really expensive and so you can’t go to Starbucks. I remember that part.”

“No. This is impossible.”

“No, this is real.”

“Shit. Was the cake chocolate and espresso?”

“Yes.”

“I remember that! Dammit!”

“At least, you remember something about our wedding night, even if it is food,” he said with equanimity.

“It was really good. The cake, I mean. The rest, well, I’m sure that was fine, too. Oh my gosh! What have we done?”

“You don’t remember our first night together?”

She remembered his hot lips on hers, his sensual touch, the way he made her scream. She flushed. “Um, yeah. It’s all coming back.”

He winked. “Everything?”

“Yes! Everything. I think I screamed your name really, really loud.”

Now he grinned wider. “Well, I did that thing you liked and...”

She held her hand out. “Too much information.”

“I’m your husband.”

“You’re a stranger.”

“A stranger... Seriously? After all the things we did? Like...”

“Okay, that’s gotta stop. So, why did you marry me?” 

“To secure my inheritance.”

“Oh.”

“Disappointed?”

“A girl likes to be married for her personality, her brains, at least her fine ass.”

“Your ass is especially fine, Mrs. Cates.”

She blushed. “Um, thanks. So I married you to help you out of a tough bind. Why did we have sex?”

“Because we couldn’t keep our hands off of one another.”

Passionate images of their lovemaking raced across her mind. Biting her lip, she gazed down. “Yes, I seem to remember that very well.”

“You were so beautiful and we had this connection, this spark.”

“I remember the crazy chemistry between us.”

“That kind of chemistry is very hard to find. When I find it, I don’t ever want to let it go.”

“At least for a year,” she mumbled. 

He let out a long sigh. “What happened to fighting injustice and oppression? Together, we were going to conquer the Wicked Queen. You even promised me the keys back to my kingdom.”

She put her head in her hands. “Oh my gosh. I do remember saying that. Listen, I was really drunk. I must’ve sounded like an idiot. I’m so sorry.” 

“How do you feel about monograms?” he asked.

“They’re stupid and stuffy and I refuse to own one.”

“Good answer,” he said, “so apart from the bit where you threatened to sue me and the part where you thought I was filming you for a reality show, we’re off to an excellent start.”

“Because I don’t like monograms, and I remember the cake?”

“It’s a start. Arranged marriages often have even less to go off of.”

“That’s hardly encouraging. Especially since we’re getting this annulled as soon as I find my pants.”

She stood and backed away from him with the pillow clutched to her front. She made her way walking backward through the doorway and looked behind her just in time to stop herself from plummeting down the three steps into the sunken living room. Her hasty stop and turn may have flashed him her bare ass, but it sure beat taking a grand piano to the back of the head which was the alternative.

“Why do they have a piano? People who can afford this kind of room don’t sit around playing the piano,” she grumbled.

“You can hire an accompanist through the hotel, have piano music during a cocktail gathering or so you can show off your operatic tenor.”

“Or do high-class karaoke? Think the accompanist knows any Lady Gaga? I can rock the shit out of Paparazzi.”

“Speaking of paparazzi, you should be prepared for the media coverage that’s going to surround us.”

Her jaw dropped.

“Don’t give me that look,” he said. “You signed up for this.”

“I have to give you that look because there is no ‘us.’ There is me and the new boss I very stupidly screwed and married.”

“You married me first,” he countered.

“How unusual for me. I hate to disillusion you, but I wasn’t a virgin.”

“Neither was I,” he said.

“Where the hell are my clothes?”

“Look over by the cake. Other side of the sofa,” he suggested.

“That’s not my underwear. Where’s
my
underwear?”

“I don’t know. I removed the lacy, silky material with my teeth, but I can’t answer for where it ended up,” he said with an insouciant shrug she found as infuriating as it was sexy.

Marj struggled into her clothes, hopping around with one stiletto on, in search of her discarded panties. Mind reeling, she wondered what her choices were. If she filed for an annulment...and how did you even DO that? Did you have to find a priest or the guy who did the ceremony? Was it something she could trust his/their legal team to handle or was this something she needed a lawyer for? Because she couldn’t afford a lawyer. And getting waitlisted at Legal Aid for a free lawyer to go up against rich boy and his team of thoroughbred attorneys wasn’t high on her list of optimistic possibilities. If she had to file for divorce, it would take longer and what if he contested it? He didn’t seem like he was panicked and in a rush to unload her and forget the whole sorry episode.

She straightened, pushing back her hair and giving up for the moment on retrieving the errant panties.

“Look, I’m sorry I reacted badly. We need to talk about this and what our options are,” she said in what she hoped was a friendly tone.

“There are no options. We’re married,” he said simply.

“Now, Brendan,” she began.

“Brandon,” he corrected.

“Right. Brandon. The thing is, I don’t want to be married.” Wait. Was she lying to him? She was kind of dreaming about it, but she didn’t think it’d actually happen for a few years. She always planned on a two year courtship. Not a two hour one! 

He crossed his arms. “You don’t want to be married? Seriously?”

“You knew I was drunk.”

“So was I.”

“I don’t want to be married. Not to you or to anyone else. I’ll be happy to give you the ring back and tell the press and whoever that I was drunk. I’ll even claim I tricked you into it. I just can’t stay married to you because—because no. Absolutely not,” she said definitively.

There. That ought to give him the clear picture of what was going on.

“It was your idea,” he countered.

“Somehow I doubt that, but even if it was, it was a crappy idea and one we need to undo as fast as possible,” she said, “I have work on Monday which is like the day after tomorrow. Can we get a divorce or something on a Saturday or is it a business hours only scenario? Reno! Reno is famous for divorces!!! Let’s go to Reno!”

“I am not going to Reno,” he said with a roll of his eyes.

“Hey, this is serious. Can I go to Reno alone and get the divorce? I need to find my phone and look it up. I have to get the number for the, like, Ministry of Quickie Divorces,” she said, scrambling for her clutch and finding her phone.

When she entered the passcode, she was faced with a picture of the two of them at a jewelry store, a diamond ring, a steamy kiss. It stopped her in her tracks. It was worth about nine thousand words right there. The people in that photo were happy. They were happy, and they were burning the place down with that kiss. She felt a tightening low in her belly, a tug of lust from the memory alone. A faint memory of being held, clutched desperately and with passion. She felt her cheeks flush.

“It’s a little fuzzy, but I remember being at a club with you. I remember saying I didn’t want to let the bitch win,” she admitted.

“That would be my stepmother. She just filed an injunction to prevent me from using the company jet in the run-up to her taking full control of the corporation. So we’ll have to wait for my plane to get to Vegas later on.”

Marj had to admit he looked so damn sexy in the buff. He had a thick neck, broad shoulders, bulging biceps, rippling muscles, lean waist, and a powerful chest. She blinked and tried to pull her gaze away from him. 

“Can’t you just send her a Snapchat of the marriage license and you giving her the finger?” she asked.

“As much as I like that idea, I think it could set us back legally, with respect to making the marriage appear genuine.”

“Okay, look, I’ll wait till after your birthday to divorce you. Is that fair? I mean, as long as you’re married by your birthday, that satisfies the will, right?”

“No. Six months minimum, a year would be better,” he said.

“That’s a long time. Did I know that when I agreed to it?”

“It was your idea to get married and, yes, you realized the time frame involved,” he sighed. “Clearly when you’re sober you’re much less agreeable.”

“Aren’t we all? I—look, could you put on some clothes? A lot of them. Because I can’t really think or argue very well with you dressed like that. Undressed like that,” she stammered.

He shot her that sly grin. “Fair enough. But you have to go shopping and I have a meeting. Rafael will be here for you in, I expect, half an hour,” he said.

“Why am I shopping? I have rent to pay.”

“You have a public appearance when we deplane in Manhattan at the private airfield. We’ve both posted on social media about the wedding. That’s the idea,” he explained, “so you have to get some clothes. You said something about wanting to go to the Forum stores. I’m going to take a shower.” He shot me a sexy little grin. “Care to join me?”

“Get in the shower with a perfect stranger?”

“Husband,” he corrected.

“No,
darling
. I have a headache.”

“Boy, you were much more spontaneous and fun last night.” He sighed. Okay, I’m taking my shower now.”

“Wait! If I have to leave in half an hour, this hair has to be washed and conditioned! I want to shower first!”

“Then pick a bathroom. There are three here.” He shrugged and walked his devastatingly naked ass out of the room while she gaped at him.

Marj opened doors until she found a bathroom with a huge sunken tub, not unlike the one in Pretty Woman. She ran a bath from the gold swan-shaped faucet and sank into freesia-scented bubbles. It helped the headache, but it didn’t stop her mind from racing. She had to consider her options to get out of this, especially since her partner in crime didn’t seem in any great hurry to put an end to the nonsense.

The door opened to the bathroom, and she shrieked.

“Relax. I’m bringing you water. Most hangover symptoms are caused by dehydration. Drink this.”

“Thanks. It’s nice of you. But please don’t come in while I’m in the bathroom, okay?” she said, feeling weirdly exposed in the bath.

“Right,” he said and left the liter of Evian on the ledge of the tub. “It’s not like I ever saw you naked before.” His tone was sarcastic.

“Right. Because you’re my husband. And we did lots of um, stuff.”

He smiled. “Lots.”

Damn, was that smile of his sexy!

Okay, Marj. Don’t get distracted by the hot guy. The hot guy who just happens to be your new hubby. What was I thinking?

She took a long, cool drink and it felt amazing, hot water, cold drink, and after a few more sips she felt her head begin to clear. She drained the bottle after washing her hair. She found bobby pins in the free toiletries and, giving up on time for a blowout, she settled for the elegance of a ballerina bun. Then she put her too-sexy club clothes back on down to the blue stilettos and put the eyeliner and gloss in her clutch to good use. She might as well brazen it out. If she was shopping at the Forum on his dime, she had no reason to be embarrassed by how she looked. She might even buy a new outfit just for shopping in.

He knocked on the door.

“Are you decent or will you scream again?”

“I’m decent. Thanks again for the water. I don’t really think I need to shop, though, and waste your money and both our time. This isn’t going to work, and there’s no reason to pretend it will,” she sighed.

“You took down your teaser tweets and Facebook pictures of us.”

“Yes. I’d like to wipe it out of living memory if I can.”

He gently grabbed her hands. “You’ve changed your mind?”

She bit her lip hard. “Let’s say I’ve made a less intoxicated decision. So there’s no reason to—”

“I have a meeting so I can’t give this discussion the time it deserves. You go shop, I’ll do business. See if you can have some fun.”

Brandon handed her the black credit card she remembered vaguely from the jewelry store.

“Put on your rings,” he said, “please,” he added as an afterthought, indicating the thousands of dollars worth of diamonds and platinum discarded on the bathroom counter.

“You want to keep up the charade?” she asked.

“Please. Until we can talk. Do you think you can do that for me?”

“Okay.”

“Thank you, Marj.”

She put the rings on reluctantly. It was a temporary concession. She’d talk sense into him once she was on the plane and had his undivided attention. She’d also feel stronger when she was back at her home base, not at this disorienting, neon lit, 24-hour party called Vegas. Seriously, people here ate shrimp cocktail at eight in the morning. No wonder everything was weird and uninhibited.