The Billionaire's Convenient Bride: A BWWM Billionaire Love Story (2 page)

     He’d been making plans to refurbish some of the area in and around the French Quarter that had been severely damaged by the last major hurricane. Prior to his flagrant affair, he had just scheduled a meeting with some of the city’s officials and business owners to collaborate with him on the project. He poured all of his efforts into preparing an airtight presentation; one that would convince all of them to cut through the notorious red tape that the city officials wrapped the city in and work with him to make the refurbishment a major success. New Orleans needed the facelift, and he knew he was the right man to do it. He just needed to convince everyone else of it.

     The day of the meeting finally came, and he rode in the limo to a charming little restaurant down in the Quarter, near the area he wanted to work on. He had secured a private room for the evening and arranged for a Creole dinner to be served to all of them. When he entered the meeting, it was obvious that his reputation had preceded him. The men and women who attended were cold and quiet towards him, and there were several people who had said they would attend and then bowed out after his tumble with the Governor’s wife.

     He stood tall and acted every bit the gracious and humble host of the evening, seeing to any of the slightest needs of his guests, and having dinner and cocktails served to them while he made his presentation. He just hoped it was enough.

     Peter hit the nail on the head. He could not have delivered his proposal any better. The men and women who were present had begun the evening with cold disregard for him, and though he had plied them with wine and whiskey throughout the evening, as well as some of the best food to be cooked up in the Quarter, they still saw the benefit to the community in the endeavors he was suggesting that they undertake.

     At the end of the evening, he could not tell if they were fully sold or not, and he felt his stomach drop when one of the more prominent business owners of the neighborhood spoke up after he ended his presentation.

     “Peter, there is no doubt that what you have shown us tonight would be a tremendous help to the community, but I’m going to be honest with you. Not a single person in this room is interested in doing any sort of business with you right now. Your deplorable behavior has disgraced this town with a shame that it rarely sees, and that’s saying something for a place that boasts the tawdriest of celebrations in the country. I’d like to be a part of something like this, but not with you at the helm of it. Thank you for your time and your ideas, Peter.” Then the man rose up and walked out of the room without even shaking Peter’s hand. The others agreed, though more subtly, and all of them followed suit.

     He watched them go and sank into a chair at one of the tables. The waitress came to him and handed him a tumbler of whiskey.

     “Here. This one is on me,” she said, knowing that he needed it pretty badly.

     “Thanks,” he mumbled. He took a swig of it and raked his fingers through his golden hair. “I can’t believe it went that badly.” He let out a sigh.

     She’d watched the whole meeting and she knew his intentions were good, but she also realized that no one was going to let him do anything because of his recent scandal, among many other indiscretions. She looked at him sitting there in misery and decided to talk with him about it. “They are right. You have good ideas. They need some work, but you have really good ideas, and what you want to do would benefit the community, but no one wants to rebuild anything with a playboy who doesn’t have a care in the world.”

     He looked up at her sharply and paused for a moment. He hadn’t bothered to look at her at any point that night and she had been their private server through the entire meeting. She stood before him, her hand on the curve of her hip, her head tilted and her hair pulled up in braids around her head. She had a dark caramel color to her skin and warm dark brown eyes. Her body was curvy and petite, her limbs muscular, and her facial features delicate and soft. He blinked up at her as she looked down at him. He struggled to remember what it was she had said, and then her words cut into him again and he drew in his breath to respond.

     “I do have a care! I care quite a bit!” He felt annoyed about her calling him a playboy, but he couldn’t deny it at all.

     “I know that. I watched your presentation. I can see that you care. The people in here can see that you care, but no one outside of this room has any idea at all that you care about anything but women, drinking and parties. You have one of the worst reputations in the state,” she said, not feeling the slighted bit of guilt. She knew he had to hear it, and she was fairly certain that no one else would ever tell him. She began clearing away dishes and bottles and his eyes followed her as he spoke back to her.

     “I didn’t know that was the Governor’s wife! I thought she was just some woman at the party. Just another woman coming on to me who wanted to have a good time!” He raised his voice defensively, but hoped not to attract any attention.

     She felt miffed at his attitude and wasn’t shy about telling him why. “You are out with different women all the time. You think the people who live here don’t see you? You think they don’t know that? Your reputation didn’t come from that one incident. No, no. You have a terrible reputation from one side of Louisiana to the other, and it’s been building for years. It isn’t that you don’t have good ideas, and it isn’t that people don’t want to make changes around here for the better, but no one wants your hand in anything they do because your hands are dirty, and no one wants to touch what’s dirty,” she said with finality as she walked out of the room with a loaded tray and he watched the door close behind her. Minutes later she came back with a fresh glass of whiskey for him, and as she set it down, he looked up at her and spoke with a softer tone.

     “Sit down with me for a minute, will you?” he asked miserably.

     She had a few minutes and he looked like he didn’t have a friend in the world. She felt sorry for him in a way, but there was also a part of her that didn’t trust him fully. She lowered her brows at him and frowned but he picked up the glass of booze with both hands and tilted his head at her. “I will wrap my dirty hands around this glass and I promise not to touch you with them. I just want to talk a bit more. No one ever talks to me with the honesty that you are giving me.”

     She looked at him suspiciously, but she sat down near him all the same and looked at him.

     “You seem to know a lot about my reputation. How is that?” he asked, not looking forward to the answer.

     “People talk. You’re a rich guy around town. Everyone knows what you’re doing. Sometimes it’s in the papers, but most of the time it’s just because you are one of the things that people talk about around here. The talk isn’t good. It’s never good when it’s about you. People don’t like the way you act and the way you live, and part of it isn’t their business, but the other part is that you have a public image, and it’s pretty badly tarnished,” she said with thoughtful honesty, looking at him closely. He really was as gorgeous as everyone had said, and the photos she had seen of him did him no justice at all, but she saw the rest of him; the bad, right along with his beautiful exterior, and it was like looking at two sides of a coin at the same time.

     He rubbed his fingers over his forehead. “I didn’t know it was that bad,” he said in a quiet tone.

     “It is that bad, and nothing is going to change that until you change your image,” she told him. “No one is going to want to do anything with you. You would get a lot further with the people of this city if you had a better reputation. You need to think about changing that before you try to start changing neighborhoods around here, because all you’re going to do is spin your wheels in the mud if you try to do it the way things are now.” She knew that the truth she was telling him was hurting him, but she knew he probably needed to hear it, and she felt like telling him might help drive him to change.

     He furrowed his brow, looking at her more closely, “What’s your name?”

     “Emmaline,” she said, holding her hand out to him.

     He looked at her hand and took it in his slowly, shaking it and looking up at her, “You aren’t opposed to touching a man with dirty hands?” he asked.

     She shrugged her shoulders. “Everyone gets their hands dirty, but not everyone is as well-known as you are. You aren’t the first man to sleep with a married woman. It’s just that your indiscretion was published for the whole world to see, so everyone feels like they can look down on you and forget their own sins. People wouldn’t be so hard on you if everyone had all their bad deeds made public.” She knew that sentiment was true, at the very least.

     He listened quietly to her, his gaze steady on her face, “Emmaline. That’s a pretty name. Where did you get it?”

     “I was named after my grandmother. She passed on, though, so now it’s just me and my grandfather, Henri.” She was proud of her grandparents. They had raised her and they were the best people she knew. She was honored to be named after her grandmother. Emmaline withdrew her hand from his and moved to stand up, but he stopped her.

     “Wait! Please don’t go yet. You’ve really given me a lot to think about and I feel like you have a bit more insight that I ought to look into before you leave. Please,” he asked earnestly, and she pressed her lips together for a moment in consideration and then sat back down.

     “Alright. What else do you want to talk about?” she asked, looking back at him.

     “Well, you’ve told me how bad things are, and that I will have to change all of it before I can try to work with the people around here to change the neighborhood, but… how do I change my image? If it’s so bad, how do I dig myself out of that hole?” He lifted his whiskey and took a long drink.

     She leaned back in her chair and looked at him. “You’re serious? You really want to know?” She wasn’t sure he did want to know what she had to say to him.

     He closed his eyes and nodded. “I really want to know.”

     Emmaline thought to herself that he had asked for it. She planted her hands on her knees and shook her head. “Your image is one of a wild playboy. If you want the people around here to trust you and look up to you, you need to develop a new image. You should try to be a family man. At least get a wife, even if you aren’t interested in having children. Have a steady relationship with a respectable, well brought up woman who truly cares about the people here and the community, someone who is honest and kind, thoughtful, helpful, generous, and has the best interests of the city at heart, and get serious with her and then marry her. Change your image enough that people see the two of you as a couple; a unit that works together instead of just you as a single playboy. Act as one solitary unit that wants to make a difference here and people will see you that way and they will want to work with you and make changes for the better. That’s the way you ought to do it. Nothing else is going to make them forget all of those pictures they’ve seen in the paper and online.” She watched him to see what he would think of that, and he looked like he was going to be sick.

     Her words struck deeply at him. A wife. A serious relationship. He had bucked against just that ideal all of his life, and for no specific reason other than that he was adamantly against himself settling down with one woman. The idea was completely alien to him. He couldn’t conceive of it at all.

     Peter shook his head. “There has to be another way. What else could I do?” he pleaded.

     She shook her head back at him, her sympathy waning. “That’s it, there is no other way. People won’t stop looking at you like you’re a playboy unless you show them that you aren’t a playboy anymore, and the only way to do that is to change it for real. You’re going to have to grow up and get serious with some woman, a respectable woman, before anyone starts to take you seriously.” She could tell by the expression on his face that nothing she said was going to convince him of that, and she felt like anything else she might tell him would be wasted.

     He was thoroughly repulsed by the idea and he lifted his whiskey to his lips with a scowl on his face. She just looked away from him and shrugged again. “Well, that’s the only way you’re going to change it.” She stood up and walked toward the door.

     “Thank you, Emmaline. I appreciate the time you gave me and your insight. You gave me a lot to think about,” he said as she turned and waved at him before she disappeared.

***

     When he got up the next day, the idea that Emmaline had discussed with him the night before was still on his mind. No longer rattling around, it fell like a seed onto good soil and it had begun to sprout tender little roots and grow.

     Peter called his assistant to meet him in his office at home. Nelson arrived early and sat across from Peter at his desk.

     “How did the meeting go last night, sir?” Nelson asked with interest.

     “The message was well received, but the messenger was not. It seems that my mistakes have jaded the opinions of those around me, enough so that none of them are interested in associating with me and doing business with me, even at the cost of improving and refurbishing devastated areas of the city.” Peter had come to terms with it before he had even gotten home the night before.

     Nelson frowned and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Well, that’s truly unfortunate, sir,” he replied with disappointment.