The Billionaire's Wife (A Steamy BWWM Marriage of Convenience Romance Novel) (8 page)

“Tell me,
Mister Andrews, before you leave,” Alphonse Megami spoke as he watched me from
behind his desk. “How much longer do you have now?”

I paused,
restraining my disappointment.

If only I had been able to suppress the coughing.

I turned
halfway, smiling sadly towards my host. “The disease is accelerating,” I
confirmed for him. “It is no longer responding to the treatments. My best
doctors have given me about five weeks…or, until the end of next month. If I’m
lucky.”

Pity crossed
Alphonse’s gaze as he gravely closed his eyes, only to open them again after a
deep breath.

“Then, I will
pray to the gods and the spirits that a miracle blesses you,” he told me with
conviction. “In my many years in this position, you are an anomaly among our
kind. You are too young, and you deserve your
happily ever after
, Mister Andrews…I fervently hope that your
doctors are very, very wrong.”

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Chapter 11

Kiona

It had been a week, and I was
still
out of my element.

I’m not
entirely sure what Cole was expecting at the time, but humiliating me on stage,
and then asking for my hand in marriage? It was a curveball that was a little
hard to swallow. The rest of the company seemed to feel the same way –
the jubilation of the Quarterly Party dissipated on the spot.

Coppersmith,
however, seemed to suddenly be having the time of his life. And why wouldn’t he
have been? If the insightful billionaire had bothered to even check with the
executive staff, someone would have undoubtedly tipped him off to the changing
dynamic.

When I came
in late that following Monday afternoon to pick up my things from my desk, a
few of my marketing coworkers cautiously updated me on office politics.

Larry went
ahead and took that lunch, but it didn’t go too well. The relevant executives
kept Cole’s little speech in mind, and they ensured that he shared in my
humiliation by failing to catch my duplicity. The resulting shouting match
could be heard from outside the Corporate Corridor, tipping a few passersby off
to the arrangement in the first place – and now the rumor mill was
churning.

On top of his
perceived lack of judgment, he didn’t have a replacement successor in mind, and
was therefore at a loss for how Marketing would function with him in the
oversight role. After all, other departments would fall under his jurisdiction
– such as Business Development, and the Programming staff. The hierarchy
couldn’t be sustained now, and thus nothing would change.

Coppersmith
was still in. In fact, his position was pretty much cemented for the
foreseeable future, despite
his
failure
to spot my deceit. He was able to shift the blame back down to Larry, stating
something about “expectations of quality control with subordinates in
supervisory roles” or something. Even if he didn’t
technically
have a point, there would be a total collapse in
productivity of the marketing department if Larry moved up to take his spot.
That wasn’t going to happen any time soon.

Kylie
suffered as well. It hadn’t been common knowledge that she was involved with my
interviews, and the fact that she not only
had
been, but also as a stand-in for Cole himself, called her competence into
question. Requests she would make without Cole’s direct influence would go
ignored; she was occasionally ridiculed behind her back, and had already taken
to disappearing into her office. It was even rumored that she was barely
eating, and she made no attempt to contact me while I was here.

The second
walk of shame came when I had to lug the box of my supplies back across the
offices. It had been my hope that I’d miss mostly everyone, including Larry,
but unfortunately there had been a large meeting. To prevent the total shutdown
of operations, several of the executive staff had decided to lecture the entire
company on accountability, and split everyone into one of two groups –
one to be shouted at before lunch, and one afterwards. The latter group was
delayed due to something coming down the pipeline from a major client. That
meant the main passage flooded with thirty-something furious and exhausted
people while I was strolling to the elevator.

I was
confronted with a lot of disgusted, angry looks – but the one that really
stood out to me was Larry. He paused angrily, ready to heatedly say something
to me, but shook his head and perished the very thought. Nobody would say a
word, of course. You don’t openly criticize the owner of the corporation’s new
fiancée.

It still
hurt. Larry wanted so little to do with me that he couldn’t fathom the thought
of pulling me aside and demanding my side of the story. Not that I would have
given it to him even if he had.

I rode the
elevator back down to the street level, wandered towards the underground
station, waited for the subway, and forty minutes later I dropped the box onto
my table and collapsed into bed.

Goddammit all,
I thought to myself.

My cell phone
buzzed again, for the tenth time since Friday night. I knew that it was Cole,
desperate for my attention. His stupid little plan and his little buyout idea
was probably on the rocks. I hadn’t heard anything about when the marriage was
going to happen, but that was my fault. I’d made myself incredibly scarce all
weekend to punish the headstrong billionaire for his actions.

Of course,
all good things come to and end. Despite my best efforts, I couldn’t avoid the
jackass for long.

*
      
*
      
*

The second
Sunday after the Quarterly Party – just over a week later, I guess
– there was a knock at my door. Curled up with the last of my ice cream,
I had been deep in the throes of a Netflix marathon.

“Yeah? Who is
it?” I called out, halfway expecting to hear Aiswarya. She was probably
wondering where I was.

“Let me in,
Kiona,” the familiar cold voice called out.

Dammit, should have stayed quiet.

“What do
you
want?”

“We have an
arrangement that you’ve been breaking. Come and open this door.”

“Yeah,
that’s…not going to happen.”

“That’s no
way to speak to your fiancé, Key.”

Furiously, I
muted my television and climbed out from under my blanket on the couch. Aware
of how awful I probably looked in my slovenly pajamas, I ripped the door open
and glared at my former boss.

Cole Andrews
was as handsome as ever, standing in a crisp, three-piece suit outside my
ramshackle apartment. His high cheekbones, thick brunette hair, and piercing
blue eyes were delicious at one point – but now they mocked me, filling
my veins with icy cold
hate.

“Aren’t you
going to invite me inside?” He asked politely.

“Hell no,” I
told him, jutting a finger into his chest. “You made a complete mockery of me
in front of my staff. You
screwed
your
own employees over. I know I’m going to be fine, but do you have even the
slightest
idea of how colossally you’ve
fucked up? Have you ever taken a minute to think through the long term
repercussions of your actions?”

He sighed
deeply, averting his gaze.

“I’ve…made a
huge mistake, yes.”

“God. Did you
even
think
to consult
anybody
at that company before you
pulled that little stunt? Did you stop to consider what that effect that
approach might have on the staff?”

“I was a
little rushed for time,” he weakly answered, staring me in the eyes. “It was
the best point to break the news.”

“Yeah, well,
why’s that, exactly?”

“It needed to
get broken to the tabloids,” he answered coolly. “Disseminated from within my
company. That’s partly why I explicitly called for an event photographer, to
capture the moment. It would back up any claims made by my staff, of which
there have already been some.”

“Oh yeah?”

“You…haven’t
been following the tabloids,” he asked, tilting his head. “It was front page
all week. We’d better get inside.” He was suddenly looking over his shoulder,
staring down the street at the throng of people passing by.

“I don’t
think that’s going to happen.”

“Well,” he
answered aloofly, “Considering all of these people, I’ve undoubtedly been
spotted here by now. The paparazzi know what you look like, and they are going
to be here any minute now…and then they’ll know where you live.”

Oh, goddammit.

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Chapter 12

Kiona

I pulled Cole inside the apartment and
hastily locked the door behind him. Right afterwards, I pointed him to the
modest two-seater table in my dining room.

“Look, I’m
going to get changed, and then you’re going to tell me what’s going on and why
you’re here,” I demanded.

“Take your time,”
he replied casually, “but you might as well pack anything you’ll need for a
while – and don’t forget your birth certificate, and any other
identification you have. At least a couple of weeks, I’d recommend. Do you
happen to have a suitcase, or should I make a few arrangements for you?”

“Yes, I’ve
got suitcases…but why am I packing?” I paused, crossing my arms and glaring at
him.

“Well, you’re
coming with me,” he told me. “To my penthouse. The driver is waiting outside.”
It acted as if everything was fine and that he hadn’t ruined me on stage.

Wait a second.
“You’re kidding.”

“I’m not.
Especially since they’ll be here soon.”

“You said
you’d never let me live there. That you’d never trust me.”

“I changed my
mind.”

“Explain.”

Cole sighed,
glancing at his watch. “I owe you some an apology for the way I handled things.
And if I leave you to the paparazzi, either they’ll tear you apart, or you’ll
feed them bad information about me. Possibly both. You’re sitting on the first half
of my fifteen million and I need you ready to put on a convincing show as my
wife. The way I see it, you can’t stay here any longer. People are already
starting to ask why nobody’s seen us together and I can’t afford to watch
everything go pear shaped.”

“I…fine. I’m
not going to stay here and live in fear of people peeking in my windows. It’s
not like I really have anything here to hold me down anyway, now that you
fired
me. Am I at least going to be fed
properly at your place?”

“I’m handy
with a skillet,” he smiled. “If that’s not good enough, I’ll bring in a
personal chef tomorrow.”

“Fine,” I
repeated, slipping away towards my bedroom. “But don’t you think for a moment
that I’m happy with this. You’ve screwed up…and you have a lot of explaining to
do.”

“Looking
forward to it,” he lied.

*
      
*
      
*

Just to piss
me off, it turned out that he was right. By the time I’d dressed into something
remotely classy and grabbed up a few possessions – mostly clothes, my
laptop, some toiletries, and so on – I could already hear the throng of
the paparazzi outside my windows.

“Oh, for
fuck’s sake, what’s going
on
out
there?”

“They’re
hungry for something,” Cole chuckled easily. “We’d better get a move on.”

I ignored his
attitude and let him take one of my suitcases. I grasped the other one firmly,
holding my keys close at hand.

“You ready?”
He asked.

I glared at
him. “No.”

“Where’s that
adaptable spirit I like so much?”

“Maybe next
time, don’t crush it in front of fifty people.”

“We’ll talk
about that,” he admonished me, “but the important thing for
now
is that we get ourselves out of here
and into the car…”

He took the
other suitcase from me, and I opened the door.

The flash of
cameras and loud, self-styled journalists was immediate and overwhelming. Cole
was right, though – I had to be adaptable to get through this. I quickly
receded into the persona of a strong, capable young woman who was used to being
bombarded at all times by the tabloids.

“Miss
Walker!”

“Hello, Kiona!
Can we get a word?”

“Miss Walker,
how long have you known Cole Andrews?”

“Mr. Andrews,
how long have you lusted for your employee?”

“Miss Kiona,
is it true that you fabricated your work history and lied to get close to your
billionaire boss, in order to seduce the gentleman?”

“A word, Mr.
Andrews?”

He held them
at bay as I confidently locked the door behind myself. As he pushed through the
crowd towards the car, the driver opened the door just in time for us to slip
in.

“Miss Kiona,
wait just a–”

The door
slammed shut, and the driver circled around and climbed into the driver’s side.
“Home, Mr. Andrews?”

“Yes,
Gregory, and make it fast.”

“Right away,
Mr. Andrews.”

He pulled us
out of the crowd, maneuvering us onto the street and through the next
intersection. Soon, we were on our way as the crowd of cameras faded far behind
us.

I found myself
grateful that it was a Sunday.

“How did you
even find out where I lived?” I asked Cole, demanding answers. “I fabricated
that
part, too.”

“You worked
for me for months, Key. If I couldn’t find that information freely, what kind
of employer would I have been? I didn’t exactly build my brand by being loose
with the details, after all.”

Of course,
I grumbled furiously.

“So, what’s
next?” I asked.

“I’m taking
you back to my home, where you will stay for the foreseeable future. Besides
the obvious perks of living under a billionaire’s roof, you’ll be free from the
grasp of the paparazzi; they’ll be unable to reach you in the penthouse.”

“Go on,” I
told him.

“You’ll also
join me on a few company trips to meet with clients, and we’ll vacation for a couple
of days. Somewhere where we will be briefly seen, adding to the tabloids.”

“I thought
the point was to get
away
from the
tabloids,” I muttered.

“The point is
to keep you safe from them, yes, but we still need to give them something to
cover. Our marriage needs to be ironclad.”

Our marriage.

“…Which
reminds me.”

He reached
for my hand. I displayed the engagement ring that I had reluctantly accepted in
front of dozens of people who now hated my guts.

“Good. We
need to finalize that soon… Are you ready to tie the knot?”

 
“Yes…that’s…that’ll work.”

“Good,” he
answered, averting his gaze.

I realized
that there was sadness in his eyes, but he steeled himself almost immediately,
dispassionately staring out of the window.
Fifteen
million dollars
, I thought to myself. Sure, he was a little brash and maybe
his timing on the marriage announcement could be better, but I had to keep my
eyes on the prize.
Yeah…I think I can
probably work with that.