To Have and to Hold (2 page)

"I worried that one of the Flashionista girls would be conniving enough to catch him. That's what he was hoping for when he set up a company filled with girls." She laughed again, this time genuinely.

I didn't understand why that was so funny.

"Sorry. You're not in on the joke? Justin hasn't shared his geek's rules for getting the girl?" She shook her head, as if she was pleased with herself. "Rule number one—set up a target-rich environment. When Riggins came to Justin to talk him into joining him to start Flashionista, one of the main selling points was the heavily young, stylish, mostly female workforce they envisioned."

"Jus has rules for getting girls?" I didn't know why I found that so amusing. I pictured a young Jus watching a movie like
Hitch
for dating advice.

His mom thought she was insulting me. But she was giving me so much ammo against him. Not that I planned to use it. Why would I?

"When you're a scrawny, broke genius nerd, you can't rely on your good looks and charm. You have to stack the deck in your favor. Up your odds of success." Diana broke into a full-scale smile and covered her mouth, looking innocently as if she'd unwittingly let too much escape. "I shouldn't tell tales on my son and give away his secrets. His plan seemed to be working. The girls at Flashionista love him. There are plenty of them who will hate you for catching him."

Yes, I was sure there were plenty of girls who wanted a billionaire.

"Justin was always sensitive, always caring, and always trying to be like his big brothers." Diana turned suddenly serious. "But he came out of the womb different from his brothers from the beginning. They were both late, big babies, each over nine pounds. Jus was a tiny, sickly preemie. He started out life too early. If he hadn't been a genius, maybe he could have caught up eventually." She sighed with regret. "But no. The little bugger had to be so damned smart. He taught himself to read at two and a half."

I stared at her. "Two and a half?"

She nodded and shook her head. "No one ever believes me. People are always astonished. He read like a fourth grader right off the bat. At first I thought he was mimicking his brothers, memorizing what they were reading to him. But no, he read the newspaper to me one day and I knew we had to do something with him. So it was off to school early with him. And then the challenge of how many grades to skip him and how often. The curse of intelligence." She paused. "On top of it all, he had to be my late bloomer. He never has reached the height of his older brothers. He's still the runt."

I rushed to his defense. "He's six feet tall. He's filled out nicely!"

She smiled, as if she was finally pleased about something. "Good. Maybe my initial impression of this marriage will turn out to be wrong. I'm glad to see you defending him. You have to understand this about my baby boy—if I'm protective of him, it's because I have a right to be.

"When he was growing up, Justin was bullied, beaten, and teased mercilessly. Never picked for sports teams or at recess. Recess! Most kids' favorite class was torture for him. I was never gladder for middle school, because there was no damned recess."

She shuddered. "Just worse things, as I soon found out. Wedgied. Head stuck in toilets. Shoved in lockers. When he was a freshman in high school, at about twelve, some of the older boys stuffed him in a trash can. He'd probably mouthed off to them. Or shown them up in class. The problem with being as smart as Justin is that he unwittingly makes other people look and feel dumb. He can't help it. You can imagine how the older boys felt being shown up in class by a kid who should have still be in elementary school.

"Justin got a concussion. I had to take him to emergency. He got six stitches in his head. Still has a scar right at his hairline."

So that's how he got the scar
, I thought.

"The boys were never caught. Jus refused to rat on them. Though if I know my boy, he got them back somehow. Justin has always lived by his wits. After that, he was more careful." She paused, as if lost in unpleasant thoughts.

My heart broke for the young Jus. Kids could be so cruel. Even college kids. People used to make fun of him at the university, too. Even I wasn't
lily
white.

"If not for his wits and the protection of his older brothers, I don't think he would have survived childhood."

"Yes, but look at him now!" I smiled brightly. "He's a celebrity.

"Yes. Look at him
now
." Her gaze ran over me in way that said,
Married to a money-grubbing bimbo
.

J
ustin

Minutes before three o'clock, Ophie came into my office. "Justin, can you come to the cafeteria? Barry's asked for you to meet him there. There's some kind of facility emergency?"

Barry was our head of facilities. I'd been wondering what pretense the staff would use to get me to my surprise party. My calendar was suspiciously open, as if Ophie had cleared it on purpose. I got out of my desk chair. "All right. Hope it's nothing major."

"Me too. Hungry employees are angry employees." Ophie tagged along with me. "You don't mind if I come along? I could use an afternoon snack."

The cafeteria was on the second floor. My office was on the top floor, the fourth-floor corner office with a view of Puget Sound and the Olympic Mountains. Of the piers and the cruise and cargo ships coming in.

We headed for the stairs. I rarely took the elevator. I preferred the exercise. As we walked past the ping-pong and foosball tables in the middle of the floor, they were also suspiciously empty.

Riggins and I insisted on creating a casual, fun workplace for our employees. Patterning it, in our limited budget way, on the simpler perks of Silicon Valley startups like Apple and Google back in the day. Creativity needs time to develop. Exercise fuels the brain. A relaxed brain is a brain ready to create. That was our theory. We encouraged our employees to take breaks. Heated ping-pong games broke out regularly. We had tournaments and allowed for modest betting in pools. I resisted the urge to comment on the silence.

As we passed the third floor, the photography studios were empty, too. We photographed our catalog, which changed online daily, onsite. Ophie chatted away, obviously trying to distract me so I wouldn't notice the lack of busy employees.

I was working on my surprised face as we came down the stairs into the second floor cafeteria.

"Surprise!"

An eruption of confetti and streamers covered me. My surprise at being covered in bits of paper was genuine. I was faking enough in my life. It was good to be real about
something
.

The cafeteria was decorated like a wedding reception with props from the photography department—candles, artificial flower arrangements, tablecloths, and balloons. A congratulations banner hung across the far side of the room, running the length of a table in front of it with a several large sheet cakes and three layer cakes on tiers of various heights. Enough cake to feed a small army of Flashionista employees.

"What? Is all this for me?" I couldn't help grinning as I dusted confetti off my shoulders and the crowd of my employees applauded. I was a happy, horrendously sexually frustrated groom.

As I stepped from the last step into the cafeteria, I was mobbed with hugs and pats on the back. I made my way across the room. Girl after girl whispered congrats in my ear and kissed my cheek. I'd never been more popular.

Wylie, our chief of operations, waited for me at the table and handed me a knife. "Cut the cake, man."

"What's this for?" I asked as I took it, playing innocent. Then I saw the writing on the cake.
Congratulations on your marriage
was written in Flashionista blue on the highest sitting white layer cake
.
In the center was a ceramic wedding cake topper—a groom in a tux dancing with his bride and dramatically dipping her backward, as if he'd swept her off her feet. A much better quality topper, I might add, than the one Lazer had gotten.

I stroked my beard and pointed to the smooth face of the groom. "Who's this guy dancing with my bride? I'm not that suave."

Those around me laughed.

"It's a hint." Wylie slapped me on the back. "The girls think you should shave off that monstrous bush on your face. They're taking bets as to whether there's a weak chin under there or not. Guess the wife must like it."

Hardly
.

"Suave? Are you kidding?" Harry stepped out of the crowd. "You swept a girl off her feet in a matter of days, if not hours."

Damn that Harry for teasing me. I ignored his jab.

Marla came up next to me. "Chill, bossman. The bakery didn't have any bearded cake toppers on such short notice. And yes, we all think you
are
that suave, Justin. Look at you! Marriage agrees with you." She tugged my shirt and made a circle around my head in the air with her finger. "New haircut. New clothes. Trimmed beard. Fixing up for her! Sweet. She's got you wrapped around her little finger. You're just the cutest billionaire around."

I
was
crazy for Kayla. I would dress any way Kayla wanted if it made her happy. It was easy to let it show. There was nothing fake about the way I felt about our marriage. Except for the way it had gone down and the celibate nature of it. "You're going to make me blush."

"That would be cute, too." Marla winked. "Why oh why didn't you fix up sooner, Justin? I would have loved to see you knock Lazer Grayson off Seattle's Hottest Bachelor list."

Yeah, he had a big head about that. The way Marla fluttered around me, I almost thought she was flirting.

Wylie raised a glass. "Lazer's place is safe now. To one less bachelor in our midst!"

Everyone in the crowd of Flashionista staff was holding a red plastic cup. Suddenly it felt a lot like college as they raised them to toast my marriage.

"To the happy couple." Marla lifted hers, too. "We have a surprise for you. Ladies?"

She directed our attention toward the wall of the cafeteria and the calendar of important events in Flashionista's history. Like its founding. When we hit one hundred employees. The date of our IPO. It was covered with pictures of employees and press shots. The art department maintained it. It was an impressive, highly creative project.

Two of our original merch buyers stood before it, holding a sheet in front of it, blocking it from view. On Marla's signal, they dropped the sheet and unveiled the latest entry.

The Jet City Billionaires' Club recognizes Flashionista cofounder Justin Green for his contributions to Flashionista's success and phenomenal growth.
And the date signified with a pair of overlapping wedding rings. The words
Wedded to Success
were written below it.

I shook my head, embarrassed and pleased, as the crowd applauded again. "You guys are sneaky," I whispered to Marla. She knew I wouldn't allow my wedding on the calendar. "Thank you, everyone! This is…too much."

There was a present on the table. One of the photographers yelled at me to open it. "A little something to make the groom happy."

"Oh, shit," I whispered as I picked it up. It was too light to be anything appropriate. I opened it gingerly and cautiously pulled out one of the skimpiest lingerie sets—a thong panty and crop-top-cami-bra-type thing—we'd ever featured on the site. I held the thong out, dangling from one finger. "This looks suspiciously like one of our samples."

Wylie shoulder-bumped me. "Yeah, well, it
was
short notice. That's what happens when you elope and there's no gift registry. What do you get the man who has everything, anyway? This should give you a little fun." He winked. "Debbie from housewares insisted the coffee machine we've all been eyeing goes into the sample sale. So that was out."

Debbie overheard and put her hands on her hips, giving him the death-ray glare. "Wylie, you big liar! You never told me you wanted it
for Justin
. It's going to bring top dollar for the children."

"Hey! We offered to pay." Wylie turned to me. "Justin, we took up a collection." He pointed to the panties I was holding. "We paid sample sale prices for that fair and square."

We sold ladies' clothes for four to ten dollars apiece at the sample sale. So, yeah, maybe people dug deep and threw in their pocket change for the max ten bucks it cost. Still, I loved this group and their crazy sense of loyalty and humor.

I clutched my heart. "I'm touched. You got me right here. Am I supposed to snap this into the crowd for one of you guys to catch?" I pulled it back and took aim.

The girls laughed. The guys jumped back, a parting of the seas as if that tiny, sexy thong was the Ebola virus.

Marla grabbed it away from me before I snapped it like a rubber band. "Boys! This is a classy celebration. Cut the cake, will you? The natives are hungry."

I sliced a wedge out of the layer with the cake topper and flipped it onto a white paper dessert plate that looked suspiciously like the ones the cafeteria used. They'd obviously spared no expense. But they were creative. I looked around. "Someone's missing. Shouldn't there be a girl here, like my wife, to stuff cake in my mouth?"

One of the girls from marketing raised her hand. "I'll do the duties."

I backed up with my hand up in self-defense. "Yeah, I bet you will. Nothing like getting a legit chance to put a cake in the boss' face. No thanks!" I broke off a piece with my fingers and stuffed it in, getting frosting on my fingers and the corners of my mouth. "Satisfied? Let them eat cake!"

"When
do
we get to meet the bride?" a guy from transportation yelled to me.

"You would want to meet her," I shot back.

"Yeah, well, we're guessing she's prettier than you!"

I was pleased I had created an environment where the staff felt comfortable flipping me shit. "She is."

"So?" one of the merch buyers said. "Answer the question."

"At the next Flashionista happy hour party. I promise. Now someone just has to arrange one." I winked at one of the merch buyers. They were the usual party-planning suspects.

Marla picked up the cake knife. "Mingle with your kingdom and leave the cake cutting to the experts."

A line of well-wishers formed. I spent the next half-hour talking with employees as they grabbed cake and congratulated me. As people got their cake, they wandered back to their desks and work. I finally broke free and went back to my office.

I was feeling great about the company and the future. Confident. Happy I had such awesome employees and had created a fun work environment. I wouldn't admit it, but I was touched my employees had thrown me a jokey impromptu wedding party. Even though I knew they used any excuse to get cake.

As I closed my office door, my phone buzzed. I had a text from Kayla. A smile bloomed on my face. And withered when I read it.
Your mom's here.

Shit! I could almost hear the desperation and plea in Kayla's voice to get home
now
.

I texted her back.
Be right there.

My phone buzzed back immediately. Expecting it to be Kayla, I smiled. As I read it, my face fell and my mood went black.

The girl on the news is not the Kayla Green you married.

K
ayla

Just as I thought I would slit my wrists if I were left alone with Justin's mom another minute, the penthouse door flew open and Jus strolled in as casually as the breeze. He was carrying a bag from a cellular store, a pink cake box, and a Flashionista mailer envelope.

Yes! The cavalry has arrived.

His face lit up when he saw me. The ham looked
exactly
like a new groom in love. He was
so
playing his mom. "Honey! I'm home!"

I jumped to my feet and ran to him, throwing myself into his arms completely for show. "And none too soon," I whispered before I pressed a kiss of genuine gratitude on his lips.

He wrapped his arms around me, cake box, cell phone bag, and mailer still in hand. And kissed me as if he was proving to his mom the validity of our marriage. It was all cake and roses. "I brought you a few little somethings. This first."

He handed me the bag from the cellular store. When I opened it, there was a new cell phone, all the accessories, and a new case. An expensive designer case.

His expression was as brilliant, hopeful, and warm as sunshine. "You other phone is dated. This one has all the latest features." He rattled them off in technical detail, still beaming.

I thanked him with another swift kiss.

"I'll transfer all your contacts and set it up for you later." He was still grinning. And making his mom wait for his attention, as if showing her I was the new top dog female in his life. "And this is a gift from my employees. For you for me."

He handed me the mailer and set the cake box on the counter. "Mom! This is a surprise!"

I stepped back, out of the way, as he opened his arms to her. Diana rose from the sofa and hugged her boy. Justin was a scant inch taller than her. He hugged her enthusiastically, with boyish happiness. Seeing them together, they were more similar than I'd first thought. And seemed to have a real affection for each other, even if he wasn't her favorite.

While they hugged, I peeked into the mailer and gasped. It was the thong and cami set I'd been coveting when I'd seen it on Flashionista. I'd thought about buying it to surprise Eric. But even at the Flash's heavily discounted prices, it was out of my budget. I pulled out the lustrous silk satin and French leavers lace thong and ran my fingers over the fineness and quality of it. It was so soft and wonderful I wanted to put it on immediately. How had they guessed my size?

I pulled it gently from the bag where it had been haphazardly wadded and stuffed and hung it over one finger. Who abused fine lingerie like this? Jus was still embracing his mom, but he was watching me, gauging my reaction. Judging from his expression, he thought it was a joke. No way, big boy. This was fine stuff.

I crooked my finger at him and winked seductively. "I'll put this on for you later." I flashed him a smile full of promise. Oh, yeah. I was going to wear this. I couldn't wait to try it on.

His eyes lit with desire. And if I could have seen his Adam's apple, I'm sure it bobbed. I carefully folded the panties and put them back in the mailer next to the cami just as his mom released him and turned around.

"What did they get you?" she asked.

"Nothing, Mom." Poor baby, he looked embarrassed.

"Something for the honeymoon." I smiled sweetly at Diana, that smile girls give when they have the upper hand.

If this had been a real marriage, it would let her know her boy was
mine
now. I was the one sleeping with him. What mom could compete with sex? She couldn't know our marriage was a special, platonic case.