Alpha Billionaire’s Bride, Part One (BWWM Romance Serial) (3 page)

CATHY OPENED THE DOOR TO Ian’s office and beckoned Jada to
enter. Jada squared her shoulders, smoothed down the front of her skirt in a
nervous gesture and bravely walked into the glistening lair of the billionaire
dragon himself, the great and mighty Ian Buckley.

The first thing that struck her was the size of the office.
It was huge, half the size of her house, she figured. It was all masculine
power-play, deep, rich colors with leather furniture, satiny wood paneling and
plush carpets over inlaid flooring. A light scent of Asian spices filled the
air.

There were floor-to-ceiling windows on two sides of the
room, banks of flat screen TVs on another wall, and several towering
bookshelves on the fourth. Some oil paintings were hung around the place, none
of which she recognized, not being into art herself. She knew quality when she
saw it, however, and this was quality squared.

There were several closed doors leading to who knew what, a
sitting area with black leather furniture, a gleaming bar with a small
kitchenette behind it, and of course, a goliath of a desk. His desk. Ian. The
man who controlled a veritable empire from this very room.

Her heart fluttered. There he was, the man himself, standing
big as life by the sitting area. She took him in, all six and a half feet of
him. Well, this was something she hadn’t expected: he was even better looking
in real life than in his pictures.

An aura emanated from him, power shimmering in the air. It
was both enthralling and intimidating. She’d never experienced such energy.

This man was special, the aura said. Important. Different.
More
.

She realized that he was studying her as closely as she was
him. His gaze was intent, his eyes eerily sharp, like they saw through her to
... what? She was imagining things. He was just a rich man, not a god.

Spell broken, she stepped forward. “Mr. Buckley,” she said,
holding out her hand.

He stepped forward and took her hand in his. She wondered if
he felt the same buzz that she did when they touched. Tiny goosebumps rose on
her arms. He had a woodsy, comforting scent.

“I’m pleased to meet you, Ms. Howarth. And call me Ian.
This,” he gestured to the man standing beside him, a man around Ian’s age, with
sandy hair, trim and fit in an expensive suit that could have used a steam,
“this is Sullivan Collins, my head counsel.”

A lawyer, huh? Jada shook his hand, too, and noted there was
no buzz between them. Good to know it was specific to Ian, and not a symptom of
a more serious condition, something like buzz-hand syndrome.

She told them both to call her Jada, and was soon seated in
one of the cushiony leather chairs. Ian sent Carol for coffee.

Jada perched on the end of her chair, knees pressed together
demurely, hands clasped lightly in front of her on top of her small purse, just
as her mother had taught her. She hoped she looked calmer than she felt.

Ian’s eyes, which were bright blue just as Jada had
imagined, sparkled at her. He seemed strangely pleased about something, though
she couldn’t think why this should be so, it being an altogether weird day of
the highest magnitude.

“How was the ride into the city?” Ian asked. “I trust
everything went well.”

“Oh, yes. It was fine. It was a convoy, with extra cars in
front and back. I felt like the president. The paparazzi didn’t stand a
chance.”

“Good, good. The press can be a bunch of vipers.”

“My sister’s a reporter.”

That gave him pause. “My mistake. I should have said ‘some’
of the press can be vipers.”

Jada took a deep breath. “I didn’t mean anything. I’m
nervous. I really, really want to know what’s going on. Are you behind all of
this craziness? And if you are, why?”

Sullivan leaned forward, his handsome face severe. “No,
Jada. We’re as taken by surprise in this affair as you are. I myself broke the
news to Ian this morning, and I assure you he couldn’t have been more shocked.”

She looked at both men, hard. They seemed honest. “So what’s
going on? Why does everyone think we’re married?”

“Some time overnight, information was posted on the Internet
that said public documents from the Springer’s Glen courthouse had been
discovered, an officially signed and sealed marriage license that shows you and
I are married,” Ian said. “The press picked it up early this morning and has
been running with it ever since.”

“So there’s a real marriage license out there with our names
and signatures on it, and it’s official? That can’t be,” Jada said.

“I agree,” Ian said. “We haven’t seen the actual document
yet, but sources assure us it exists. We’ll get hold of it soon, and when we
do, we can begin to uncover the source of this honest error, publicity stunt,
whatever it actually is.”

“Huh.” Jada thought over the few known facts. “I don’t know
how this could have happened. It makes no sense. You mentioned publicity stunt.
You don’t think that I had anything to do with it, do you? Because if you do,
you’re off the mark and then some.”

“No. We don’t think you had anything to do with it.”

“Why not?”

Ian smiled. “I’d think you’d just be glad we don’t suspect
you.”

“I am. But I don’t know why I’ve been ruled out as a
suspect.”

“Let’s just say you don’t appear to be the publicity-seeking
type.”

Jada chewed that over for a moment. “You’re right, but I
still don’t see how you know that. For what it’s worth, I don’t suspect that
you had anything to do with it either. Not anymore.”

“Thank you,” Ian said. “What convinced you?”

Her first thought was, the buzz you sent up my arm when you
touched me, but she didn’t say it. Cathy saved her by returning with a tray of
steaming coffee mugs. Jada busied herself by doctoring her coffee and savoring
the first few sips. It was delicious. She had tried to get the driver of her
car to stop at a coffee shop, or even a fast food place, on the way into the city,
but he said they’d get overrun by the trailing press corps if they stopped.

She spoke without thinking. “It must suck being you.”

He paused in mid-sip of his coffee. “Pardon?”

“I mean, traveling everywhere with a security detail and
reporters hounding you all the time. I’d hate it. They’ve ruined my lawn, you
know. And I had to turn off my phone. They somehow got my number and I no
sooner clean out my voicemail than they fill it up again. I can’t even text my
own sister right now. How do you keep them out of your phone? It’s terribly
annoying.”

Ian didn’t say a word, just stared at her with a strange
expression. Sullivan cleared his throat and drew her attention.

“We have systems in place, Jada, to protect Ian’s privacy.
And we’d like to help protect yours, too, while we work this out,” he said.

As Sullivan spoke, Ian waved Cathy over. She bent down and
he spoke to her in hushed tones that Jada couldn’t overhear. Cathy nodded and
left the office.

Jada looked back and forth between the two men. “Why would you
want to help me?”

“For one thing,” Ian said, “the least I can do is protect my
wife. And that’s you, after all.”

Jada laughed for the first time that day. It felt good. “And
what’s the other thing? Am I having your baby, too?”

“A splendid idea. I’m in need of an heir. And perhaps a
spare, too.”

Jada grinned, but it soon faded as she recognized a hint of
sincerity behind his playful words. Awkward. She didn’t know what to say.

Sullivan broke in. “So we have an idea.”

“That’s right,” Ian said. “And I hope you’re amenable to it.
We have the resources to straighten this thing out. You’re vulnerable in your
position as an ord ... well, I mean ... a reg ...”

“I’m not offended if you call me a regular, normal person,
you know. It’s what I am. It’s what most of us are. I’m not ashamed of being
like nearly everyone else,” Jada said.

Was that a blush creeping up Ian’s neck? “I didn’t mean it
that way. I would never think you had anything to be ashamed of. You’re
splendid as you are. You’re not ordinary, or regular, in fact. That’s why I
didn’t say it. I meant to say that dealing with this situation isn’t your
responsibility. It’s—”

“Now, I’m offended. This debacle affects me, so working it
out is just as much my responsibility as it is yours. Or are you saying I don’t
have what it takes to—”

“God, no, that’s not it at all. I’m sure you’re perfectly
capable of—”

“So then I don’t see why you think I can’t—”

“I’m not saying that, Jada. What I was saying was ... hell.
I can’t remember now.”

Sullivan burst out laughing, going so far as to slap his
knee. Ian scowled and Jada joined him. Sullivan laughed harder than ever.

They waited Sullivan out and when he caught his breath, he
dabbed at the corners of his eyes with a monogrammed silk handkerchief. He
looked at Ian. “I haven’t seen you that befuddled in I don’t know how long.
Jada, if you can do that over and over again, I’ll pay you six figures and give
you a corner office with a view of the park.”

Jada didn’t respond to his ridiculous offer. She raised her
chin and spoke to Ian instead. “So what is it you were going to suggest I do
about this mess?”

Ian took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. The
billionaire in him took charge. “I think you should stay out of sight for a
while, until we get everything straightened out.”

“Oh. Well,” Jada said, “that’s actually not a bad idea. I
could stay in a hotel or something, I guess.”

“That wouldn’t be ideal. It’s a huge news item and someone
would give you away sooner or later. My suggestion, and what I’m offering, is
that you stay in a secure location. You could stay at one of my properties. I
think you might enjoy the lake cabin.”

Jada nearly dropped her mug. Was he serious? “You want to
put me up at your house? Well, your cabin or whatever? That’s so ... I don’t
know. It sounds—”

“Believe me,” Sullivan interrupted, “you’ll love the lake
cabin. It’s beautiful out there. And no one could get to you. You’d be safe and
sound while we work this out. Think of it as an unplanned vacation.”

“How long are you talking about my staying there? I have a
job, you know.”

“We know,” Ian said with such surety that it unnerved her,
making her wonder what else they knew about her. Undoubtedly, more than she
knew about them. “We might have this whole thing straightened out by morning.
Impossible to guess. We can deal with other issues as they arise.”

They made it sound so reasonable, that she should just
suddenly decide to up and go out to some remote cabin all by herself to get
away from reporters who wanted to hound her to death. It was so bizarre, it
almost made sense.

“Would there be someone at the cabin with me? Like a
caretaker or something?”

“Yes, of course. There’s staff and security. You’d be quite
safe, I promise, and well taken care of,” Ian said.

Cathy returned to the office. She came over to Jada and
handed her a cell phone.

“What’s this for?” she asked. It was a nice phone, top of
the line from what she could tell.

“It’s for you,” Ian said. “So you can talk to your family in
peace. This is one of our company phones we provide for executives. The press
won’t be able to find you on that.”

“That’s so thoughtful.” Jada eyed the phone in wonder. Gee,
mention something around here and a genie assistant shows up magically handing
over technological wanders. She could get used to that kind of service.
“Thanks. I appreciate it. I’ll return it, of course, when—”

“No worries. So what do you say to the lake cabin? Would you
like to go? You’d certainly make us feel better, knowing you’re protected,” Ian
said.

A warm, fuzzy feeling spread through her chest. It was nice,
the protective way Ian treated her. She was accustomed to taking care of
herself, and of Marina, too. It was strange to consider letting someone else
take charge. It was seductive, allowing a sexy, rich man to take over. For
once, just relaxing and going with the flow.

She should fight the fuzzies. She knew it. Fight the
fuzzies. Fight them.

Nope, wasn’t happening. She liked the phone. She liked the
idea of spending time at a lake cabin. She liked the billionaire who was
watching her with confident expectation on his manly face.

“Wait,” she said, “I forgot about Ms. Kitty. I can’t leave
her home alone.”

“Miss Kitty is ...” Ian raised a shaped brow.

“My cat. And it’s Ms., pronounced Miz, not Miss, Kitty.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to be sexist.”

“Ha! No, it’s just that Miss Kitty would be the name of that
madame on that old television show and I’d never name my cat after a madame.
That would be weird.”

“Miss Kitty wasn’t a madame,” Sullivan interjected. “She
dated Matt Dillon.”

“You have to read between the lines,” Jada said. “An
unmarried woman in the 1800’s, owns the only drinking establishment in town. Of
course she would have had to offer up basic entertainment to the cowboys.
That’s how it was done.”

“I don’t see how you come to that conclusion,” Ian said,
blue eyes twinkling mightily.

“It’s understood. That’s all I’m saying. Television writers
back then, they couldn’t come right out and say it, so they had to imply.”

Ian glanced at Sullivan. “An interesting conjecture. My
grandfather loved that show and I would imagine he’d have taken an interest in
your theory.”

Sullivan shook his head. “Miss Kitty was no hooker.”

“I didn’t say she was a working girl, not like that,” Jada
said. “Like you said, she was hooking up with the sheriff, probably in exchange
for him looking the other way in regards to her illegal prostitution racket.”

Ian chuckled.

Sullivan scratched his chin. “Still don’t see it.”

“Miss Kitty’s second profession aside,” Ian said, “can we
get back to what’s important? Jada, you have a cat. Can your sister look after
her while you’re gone?”