Accidentally Married to the Billionaire (The Billionaire's Touch, #1) (12 page)

Speaking of mounted, he had been on top of her in record time, right there on the floor with an urgency that he didn’t care to think about. He could think of nothing but getting between her long creamy thighs, of pinning her to the floor and taking her. And he had. His body hardened at the recollection.

She was passionate, teasing, a total minx. He knew she was afraid of having her heart broken, that she was more soft-hearted than she let on. For a brash, sexy woman, Marj thought everything out—her budget, her career, her relationships or lack thereof. She liked to keep things light, just as he did. Clubs and dancing and sex were fine, feelings were off limits. He understood that all too well. The fact was, she had said something that got under his skin last night.

I played those games myself for a long time...then I got played.

Brandon Cates was willing to be that he himself was about to get played. It would be one for the record books.

There was no stopping it now.

M
arj had awakened alone, showered and dressed in what she thought of as her airplane outfit. Sleek ponytail, chic neutral makeup and she was ready to be put on display. Her first public appearance as Mrs. Brandon Cates. There was one more thing she had to do.

Marj messaged Britt:

Always said I was wilder than u. U slept with your boss the night you met him. I can beat that. I married mine the night I met him.

She snapped a picture of her rings and sent the text. Almost instantly, her phone lit up with Britt’s incredulous reply.

You did what??????

Marj smiled. She thought her situation deserved six question marks.

Hitched in Vegas! Tho come 2 think of it, I didn’t shag him till after we got married so maybe ur wilder after all!  XOXO M

Then Marj shut off her phone and braved the living room. She found Brandon hunched over his laptop as expected. A room service breakfast stood on a cart awaiting her. She sipped orange juice from the goblet and lifted the silver dome from her plate. Instead of eggs and toast, she found a velvet box. She glanced over at Brandon who continued to type without looking up, but with a telltale mischievous grin on his handsome face.

She opened the hinged lid and squealed. There on a bed of black velvet was the sapphire and diamond pendant she’d coveted in secret ever since she saw
Titanic
as a kid.

“I love it!” she squeaked and ran over to him, “Put it on me!”

“That’s counterintuitive. I prefer to take things off of you, but just this once I’ll comply,” he said wryly.

“I should totally have pinned the bigger one,” she teased.

“So you’ve realized I trolled your Pinterest boards. I would prefer you not disclose that rather embarrassing fact to the press,” he said.

“It’s every woman’s dream, to be with a guy who cares what she likes!”

“Imagine for a moment how it galled me to order that from a mall jewelry store instead of getting a higher quality pendant from Harry Winston or Cartier. My credit card company, my accountant will see that charge and think me a complete miser with my new bride.”

“Your ego will recover. You got the one I want, and that’s what counts. I love it! And it reminds me of my favorite movie ever.”

“I thought you watched those zombie films,” he grimaced.

“Just to protect my badass street cred. If anyone knew I’ve watched
Titanic
like thirty times, I’d never live it down. I’d be reduced to a cliché, eternal bachelorette addicted to sad romantic movies.”

“Bride, not bachelorette. So if you were pining for the starring role in a reality show, your dreams of televised courtship are over for the moment.”

“So when we’re divorced I’m free to go on TV and find the next Mr. Marjorie Reynolds?”

“I’d rather you didn’t but you may need to hold auditions to find a man who can be my successor,” he said with one raised eyebrow, which made her laugh.

“At least you’re not preventing me from a reality show career after we’re through. I may need to do a tell-all
Real Housewives
style gig to revamp my image from photo ready corporate wife back to wild child.”

“If necessary, a gag order can be part of the divorce settlement.”

“Right. Like that would ever work on me,” she laughed.

“Then I will have to keep you incredibly happy with flashy mall jewelry, so you don’t divulge all my dark secrets,” he said.

“Hmmm....there wasn’t any other major jewelry in
Titanic.
I may have to watch that
Gatsby
movie Leo made just to diversify my diamond options,” she said.

“Was
Gatsby
too literary for your zombie tastes?”

“Nah, too boring. I tried to watch it once and I fell asleep. That blond chick—-ugh. What a whiner. Now I get how he’d want Kate in
Titanic
. She’s awesome and smart and outspoken but Little Miss Fragile had her some mental problems in
Gatsby
, I’m telling you.”

“You are, without a doubt, the first person ever to refer to Daisy Buchanen as Little Miss Fragile.”

“I mean, she’s going to get Leo killed.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong but didn’t he die in
Titanic
?”

“That was the iceberg’s fault!” she said vehemently.

“Remind me not to go up against you with DiCaprio on the line,” he laughed, “you take him pretty seriously.”

“I’m a passionate woman. That shouldn’t surprise you.”

“It doesn’t, but my sudden jealousy of an actor surprises me.”

“Don’t beat yourself up. We can’t all be a monumentally talented thespian and environmentalist who looks that hot with a beard.”

“I may have to look into some environmental charities, see if I can compete.”

“Leo’s place in my heart is forever. Don’t even try.”

“I find that strangely rude and upsetting.”

“Then don’t think about it. Think about my gorgeous sapphire necklace. I’ll never let go, Jack!”

“My name is Brandon. If you could refrain from shouting other men’s names, both in bed and in the media, it would be ideal,” he said sarcastically.

“I’ll work on that. So, if I make a whole new aspirational Pinterest board are you going to be a follower?”

“Absolutely. Can I add Pinterest stalking to the pros list?”

“Yes. Also, where’s my dessert from last night?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean if you read all my foodie pins, surely you found a dessert. I’ve only pinned about six hundred of them.”

“I think 439 at last count, all of which were chocolate based.”

“So...?”

“In the mini-fridge.”

“Ooooh,” she said, hurrying to the appliance and finding a beautiful chilled cylinder of layered chocolate mousse and espresso soaked sponge, like a naughty tiramisu.

Almost reverently, Marj took the dish from the refrigerator and carried it to the desk where he sat typing away at his laptop. She took a spoon from the room service cart and held it out to him.

“Try it.”

“It’s not poisoned. Promise. You don’t need a food taster. We’re not royalty,” he snarked.

“Oh, just taste it. It looks incredible,” she coaxed.

“No, thanks,” he said.

“You can’t have dessert?”

“I can, in moderation, but I keep away from refined sugars. It’s safer,” he explained.

“What did ‘safe’ ever get either of us? Not married, that’s for sure!”

“I don’t want to overtax my pancreas,” he said.

“That is without a doubt the sexiest thing anyone’s ever said to me,” she teased.

“Thanks anyway,” he said.

Marj took the spoon and scooped a large bite into her own mouth.

“I wasn’t trying to be an asshole. I thought it was okay for you to eat a little of it. I looked it up on my phone. My phone was cool with you having dessert,” she said, “So I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

“You didn’t. I just don’t like to indulge,” he said. “I work out and follow a strict diet.”

“Then maybe that’s a skill I can teach you. I never had the budget to indulge, but I damn sure can figure it out for both of us!”

“There’s Wi-Fi on our plane, so you can shop online if you want. It’s a long flight back to the city.”

“Do you like living there? Manhattan, I mean?”

“I suppose. It’s where my business is based, although we have offices in Hong Kong, Geneva, and Tokyo. Do you prefer one of the other locations? I’m not opposed to splitting time between two homes.”

“I wasn’t complaining. I just wondered if you live in New York because you like it or because it’s easy.”

“Because it’s easy. I have my home, my staff, my office the way it’s most efficient for me. Everything’s functional and if I want Chinese food at two in the morning, I know I can have it.”

“I’m guessing you could get food in Hong Kong then, too,” she teased.

“True. But would they deliver?”

“You could always send your staff,” she said, “I never knew anyone who had a staff. I bet you don’t even clean your own toilet!”

“I also don’t shop for groceries or make my own dinner reservations. I have a number of conveniences that most people don’t get to enjoy. I’m grateful for them, if it helps,” he said loftily.

“Your willingness to share them with me, should I require two in the morning sushi, would help,” she said.

“Sushi? It’s uncooked.”

“Don’t tell me, your pancreas?”

“Joking about my diabetes is—”

“Irreverent? Inappropriate? Honey, maybe you should’ve talked to me longer before we got married. I’m always this way and I’m not going to chase every remark with a disclaimer that of course, I know diabetes is a serious illness and I mean no disrespect. But, seriously, Brandon, when it’s just the two of us, I have my personality and, yeah, probably I’m annoying. So be brave. You and your pancreas both.”

“I have never heard anyone be so flippant.”

“Piss you off?”

“No, the opposite in fact. I’m not sure if you noticed yet, but I tend to take everything seriously, myself most of all. So you’re the antidote—infuriatingly flippant. I can’t say I dislike it, Marjorie,” he said with an unexpected grin.

“Oof,” she huffed, “You have to give me a warning when you’re gonna smile like that. Knocks the wind right out of me. I could fall over in front of the media and then there’d be a rumor that I’m drunk,” she said.

“Is that your trademarked flippancy telling me you find me attractive?”

“Yes. Now enough with the crooked smile, hot guy. A girl has got to eat her dessert for breakfast, because once vacation’s over, it’s gym time and I have a boot camp class calling my name!”

“We have a gym at home. Basically any machine you could want,” he said smugly.

“Right, so is there a hot yoga instructor and a trainer there who shames me until I complete thirty reps? Because if not, I’m going to sit on those machines and drink milkshakes and call it working out. I have to have the motivation, by which I mean I need peer pressure and someone to yell at me.”

“If you prefer the gym, sweetie, then go to the gym,” he said as he returned his attention to his laptop.

“But do I have to leave the gym looking like a Kardashian with my giant designer handbag and my dumbass platform sneakers?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, so I’ll answer in the negative. No, I don’t encourage you to wear giant dumbass things,” he said.

“Good. Because I’m more of a Taylor Swift type, leave the gym with sunglasses and red lipstick and a kick ass crop top.”

“Kick ass. Not dumb ass. Right,” he said.

“You are so not listening to me!” she laughed, finishing up her dessert, “What time do we leave?”

“At eleven. And this evening, we’re meeting my stepmother for dinner.”

Her eyebrows shot up in astonishment.

“An audience with the Wicked Queen? Remind me not to eat any apples. I am, after all, her successor. The newest Mrs. Cates. That makes her, like, the Dowager Wicked Queen and I’m the Wicked Princess, which sounds younger and prettier.”

“You blow her out of the water,” he said.

She smiled. “Thank you.”

“Think you can handle her?”

“You bet. So what am I wearing to meet the WQ?”

“Anything you like.”

“Do I have time to go shopping again? Or should I recycle the sexy, black and gold number from last night?”

“I can have my assistant call Nieman Marcus. They’ll send some dresses over for you to choose from. Don’t stress. We have people, Marj,” he said with a sexy grin.

“Oh, people. How could I forget?” she said.

True to his word, Brandon mobilized an assistant and within the hour, Marj had half a dozen wardrobe choices in the suite. She modeled them one by one for a mostly oblivious Brandon who favored her with the occasional glimpse away from his computer screen. When he acknowledged the red dress with a half-second more of his attention, she did a fist pump of victory.

“I knew it! I knew there was a two blink dress in that pile somewhere!”

“What are you talking about?”

“When you don’t care, you barely look up. But this time, you looked at me long enough to blink twice, which is by far the most undivided attention you’ve favored me with. It must be a knockout,” she teased.

“I’m not used to working with distractions in the room,” he hedged.

“Well, I plan to be plenty distracting. So if you need a few minutes on your own to accomplish something, you’d better tell me straight out. Otherwise I’m going to torment you with shoe choices. Are you sure I shouldn’t wear the white one? It’s got that bridal vibe.”

“The white one has a high neck. I recommend showing off your assets. This one flaunts. I think meeting my esteemed stepmother is the perfect occasion to flaunt. In fact, the more fabulous you look, the more Botox injections she’ll demand tomorrow at the dermatologist,” he said.

“You’re positively evil. So, should I toss some glitter on my cleavage to make sure she looks? We could send subliminal boob job messages to her. Because mine are original,” she said.

“Hers are aftermarket accessories, I’m sorry to say. They didn’t show up until her third anniversary with my dad. I’m not sure if they were a present from him or for him. I prefer not to think about it too closely,” Brandon grimaced.