Read The Billionaire's Wife (A Steamy BWWM Marriage of Convenience Romance Novel) Online
Authors: Mia Caldwell
Cole
When I woke up the following morning,
Kiona was snuggled up at my side, her arm draped over my chest. I didn’t move
at first, simply basking in her body warmth, and memories of the previous
night’s pleasure.
Unfortunately,
I had wondered fleetingly at first if she was just making a move over the
money, but her passion had been clear and sincere from the start. The ferocity
with which she chased my lips, eager to have me, could not be so easily acted
– and if the look in her eyes had been as fabricated as her work history,
then there was truly neither passion nor love in the world.
With these
thoughts in mind, it occurred to me that it was Thursday morning.
Why is Thursday important? That rings a
bell.
With something of a mental shrug, I decided to let her sleep in,
although I was already thinking about climbing out of bed and concocting a
magnificent breakfast for her.
Let’s see…what do I have in the kitchen?
I wondered to
myself with a sly little grin.
I could
probably whip up some eggs benedict, sizzle some sausage…
As I
considered the options, my eyes trailed over to a clock on the wall –
reading half past eleven. A flush of memories and realizations snapped into my
head.
Oh, crap.
Post-coital
civility be damned, I was going to be late for something I couldn’t afford to
miss.
Removing
Kiona’s arm, I leapt out of bed, whipping out my cell phone. Gregory had tried
dialing for me a few times, which meant that my contingency was hopefully in
effect…
I immediately
dialed for Patrick. He answered on the second ring, which told me that his
Bluetooth was active – he only turned that on if he was in the chopper.
As soon as the call connected, I could hear the sounds of the rotors whirring,
and his shouting voice over the mechanical disturbance.
“Patrick, I
need immediate pickup from the tower.”
“Copy that,
sir – already en route, over.”
“Estimated
arrival?”
“T-minus six
minutes, over.”
“Good, hold
it steady, I’ll be up shortly.”
“Wilco,
over.”
“Thank you,
Patrick.”
“Anytime,
over and out.”
Of course, I
didn’t require Patrick to speak in Military grade communications to work for
me, but when he was focused on mid-flight communications, he usually reverted
into his many years of training.
Realizing
that I was still naked, I took a moment to bathe in the morning sunlight
pouring through the windows. Nobody could see me up here. It felt liberating.
“Cole?” Kiona
was rising from her slumber; in all likelihood, she had been stirred awake by
the conversation.
“Good
morning,” I hurriedly answered, stepping into my closet to quickly dress
myself. I could hear some moving about in the bed, and cursed myself for waking
her. It should have occurred to me to step away to call, and now she was going
to wake up just in time for me to rush out the door.
I could only
blame myself, really.
“Cole, honey,
is everything okay?”
“Yes, yes,
everything’s fine,” I lied, snapping the last buttons closed and threading a
tie. “Just lay back down and get some more sleep.”
“Are you
heading into work?”
“No,” I tersely
answered while slipping into a fresh pair of slacks, before realizing my
absent-minded mistake.
Should have just
said yes, kept it simple…
“Oh, alright
then. Taking a trip?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, good.
I’ll get dressed.” She started to get up.
“No, it’s not
that kind of – I mean, I’m running late.”
“Not that
kind of trip?”
I didn’t have
time for this. “I’ll only be gone a few hours,” I told her reassuringly,
leaving the closet with a pair of socks and shoes.
“But I
thought you said I’d be joining you on your trips,” she said indignantly. Kiona
was wide-awake, sitting up in bed and clasping the comforter to her chest.
“You will,
but not this one. I’m already going to be late – just trust me and stay
here.” I tried to calm her down, but Kiona had not responded to waking up to
anything less than a fairy tale morning after. She turned her head in
irritation, but I couldn’t dedicate the time to this right now. “Get some rest.
I’ll be back, and everything will be fine.”
As I slipped
my socks on and tied my shoelaces, she didn’t move a muscle. With a heavy sigh,
I stood up, suppressing a quick, raspy cough into my fist. I moved to hold her
cheek with my clean hand, but she whipped her face away.
“Don’t be
like this, Key,” I pleaded. “I won’t be gone long. You know that I’m busy.”
“Right.
Busy.
”
Now, my
concern was flashing to anger. Gritting my teeth, I restrained myself from
lashing out, choosing to simply cast her a glowering look. She was still
incensed, but I was already late. Patrick would be waiting for me, and even
with the speed of his craft, I wasn’t going to make it in time. I so hated
being late.
With a heavy,
angry heart, I left her in the room.
Crossing the
penthouse, I straightened my tie as my shoes clattered against the tile
flooring. Several chambers away, my hired maid peered from her work, and I gave
her a curt nod of recognition. As I walked past, I realized that I must look
absolutely dreadful – and a mirror came into view around the corner.
Catching an image of myself, I remembered that I hadn’t bothered to wash my
face or brush my teeth – and my hair was a slight mess from the events of
the night before. I tried to tussle my hair lightly in my reflection, but to no
avail.
I had woken
up so refreshed and happy about said events.
It’s really a shame that my fiancé had to dispel the entire illusion
,
I thought to myself rather coldly.
Yes…coldly
, I agreed to myself, taking a deep
breath as I strolled towards the foyer. That’s what I needed – coolness.
Indifference. Apathy. I needed my fortifications to slide back into place,
reinforced from such frivolous thoughts.
To
think that I had been so foolish to let them down at all!
By the time
that I reached the helicopter, clamoring quickly into the cabin with the door
shutting behind me, I had already pushed it all aside in my head, and the
safety of my mental walls was already securely in place.
*
*
*
“You’re
late,” my specialist observed as I strolled into his office. I had run all the
way down the halls, slowing to a casual pace only fifty feet outside. “
And
you look like you’ve just rolled out
of bed. You do realize I have other patients, correct? I understand that you’re
rich, but so are the rest of my clients, and they are less forgiving than you.”
“I arrived as
quickly as I could, but I
am
terribly
sorry about the delay,” I mumbled groggily as an apology.
Doctor
Greene’s office was small, yet tastefully modern. This was a man who could have
had his pick of half the offices on the floor, and chose the modest one with
the striking view of downtown New York City. It was a wise decision, I’d found,
and told me a little of his priorities.
“Yes, well.
Be that as it may,” he grumbled, standing up from his desk to rummage in a
nearby cabinet.
I flicked the
button of my blazer open as I took a seat in one of his guest chairs, afraid
that I might need to rely on the positioning. Swallowing my concerns, I glanced
casually out the window, although my own view was not particularly exquisite
from this angle. It was the doctor, after all, with the good spot.
And despite
my success and all my wealth, I was willing to switch spots with him in a
heartbeat…of which I found myself limited, so it would appear.
“Let’s see…”
He flipped through files in the drawer.
I was well
aware that he not only could have pulled this information up prior to my
arrival, but that it was likely stored in digital format on his computer.
Growing impatient, I bit my tongue again –
why is it that everyone around me insists on these grand, sweeping
gestures? First, it was Alphonse…then this morning…
My tolerance
was at its limits when he finally pulled the folder free, closed the drawer,
and stepped back over around to the desk. “Yes, we’ve got the lab results in
now,” he murmured absentmindedly, reviewing the folder as he sat down across
from me.
“When I was
here last week, you said that the treatments were no longer responding. You
also gave me a time frame for my…expiration.”
“This is
true,” he agreed.
“But you had
some tests performed anyway,” I pressed. “Surely, you must have thought there
was something else…perhaps something that was overlooked.”
“Correct,” he
confirmed again.
If this man doesn’t start giving me some answers
soon, I’m going to strangle him with my bare hands.
“So…give me
the news, Doc.”
Doctor Greene
sighed, setting the folder down. “There might be a way…but it is a last resort,
and a highly improbable one at that.”
“Will it save
my life?”
He took a
deep breath. “There’s no guarantee.”
I processed
this information while he continued.
“And it’s
going to come at a cost.”
“I can afford
any cost,” I chuckled bitterly.
“There are
costs that money can’t cover,” he told me. “You’re not going to be able to snap
open your checkbook and fix this one…the disease is too rampant now.”
“So, what are
we talking about here, doctor?”
He sighed,
whipping off his glasses and looking me in the eyes.
Finally. No more bullshit.
My doctor’s gaze was resolute, but
stained along the edges with something akin to pity.
“Your lungs
are in almost critical condition. These international flights of yours are only
degrading them further – cabin pressure, altitude changes, you’re not
doing yourself any favors. I have access to an experimental drug trial out
being run by Parapharm, but to have a hope of qualifying you’re going to
require a double lung transplant.”
“Double?”
“It has to be
both. Otherwise, the infected tissue filling the native lung will simply
compromise the fresh lung. With both lungs swapped, you might just escape this
thing – swap out one, and you’ll have bought yourself not even months,
but weeks.”
“So, I get a
double lung transplant.”
“If it were
only that simple, I would have already scheduled the surgery.”
He sighed
deeply again, watching me carefully. Instead of stalling or simply being a
bother, I could tell that he was simply gathering his thoughts.
It didn’t
make it any easier to hear.
“There are no
matches in our system to your genetics. Unfortunately, your immune system is
over-reactive from the condition. Your body is openly hostile to the options.
It will automatically reject virtually any lung we can find you…even
if
we could find a partial match, the
anti-rejection drugs would destroy your standard of living. It’s possible that
a partial match transplant and years of experimental therapy could extend your
time, but it would be… Painful.”