Read The Billionaire's Wife (A Steamy BWWM Marriage of Convenience Romance Novel) Online
Authors: Mia Caldwell
Cole
When we arrived at the building,
Gregory dropped us off near the front. I led Kiona into the grandiose lobby,
where the concierge behind the main counter briskly stepped aside and unlocked
a small flap for us.
“Good
afternoon, Mr. Andrews.”
“Greetings,
Samantha. Long day?”
“The
longest,” she smiled, guiding us through a nearby door. We stepped into a small
entryway, with only another door nearby. “Can I have anything sent up for
either of you?”
“No, we’ll be
fine,” I told her, reaching for my key.
“Excellent.
Call us if you need anything.”
I gave
Samantha the courtesy of a nod, and she returned to her post. I had always
liked her. She didn’t fuss over me, only ensured that I walked into the
building with my needs met, and left it at that – none of the hushed
idolatry that came from some of the other employees of the luxury apartment
complex.
“You’re so
fancy that you get your own entrance?” Kiona asked from beside me.
“Originally,
the rooftop manor belonged to the owner of this establishment. When I took it
off of his hands, I kept the private elevator and had the other entrances
sealed.” I unlocked the door with my key, revealing the open elevator.
“Isn’t that
unsafe? What if this breaks?” She asked as we stepped inside.
I turned to
push the ascension button, choosing the top floor. After all, this elevator
still had the infrastructure to reach the other floors if it needed to. “This
is a reliable piece of machinery. It doesn’t break, and I pay for a technician
to inspect it twice a month. Even if fate intervened, I happen to own a
helicopter and employ a very capable pilot. I believe you might remember.”
We began to
ascend, and spent the rest of the ride in silence. Dozens of floors came and
went as we rode high up, and I briefly suppressed a coughing fit, squeezing out
just a few to release my tension. We were suddenly bathed in light, and Kiona
turned to realize that the back of the elevator was glass – and that we
were now ascending above the city.
“You and your
spectacular views,” she murmured in hushed delight.
I
straightened my tie, hiding a smile. “They suit me.”
*
*
*
“I think I’m
ready to make this work,” Kiona told me thirty minutes later over another pair
of wine glasses. Her face was stern, somewhat contemplative. It was absolutely
beautiful in the dim lighting of my home, as the sun was setting again. “I’ve
given it some thought, and I think I might really, actually love you.”
“I almost
believe that,” I smiled.
“You’d better
believe it,” she grinned. “Because if you don’t, nobody else will. You and I… Look,
maybe we got off on the wrong foot here.”
She reached
forward, sliding her palm along my arm. A quick breath escaped my lips at her
touch.
“My, you
really
are
having a change of heart.”
“You
humiliated me. I’m not going to let that slide. You also could have handled
things better at work. Honestly, though? I’m not so worried about that anymore.
I mean, sure, I’m worried about Larry and the department, but if this deal goes
through none of the office politics really matter.”
“I’ve
smoothed some things over with the company,” I told her. “The first thing I did
after I returned from Tokyo was call everyone into a companywide meeting and
tell them how it’s going to be from now on.”
“You went to Toyko?”
She perked up, her hand lifting from my arm. She steadied her elbow against the
counter and held her chin against her palm. “And why the hell didn’t you invite
me?”
“
You
wouldn’t pick up the phone,” I told
her firmly. I was still angry that her absence had made my talk with Alphonse
fall apart, but at least now it seemed that I didn’t have to fight her anymore.
“I needed you, and I couldn’t reach you.”
“But you knew
where I lived.”
“You think
that was the first time I came to knock on your door? I’ve been there a few
times. That’s why the paparazzi were so quick to mobilize…that, and you took
forever to pack.”
“Oh, hush,”
she told me, firing off a mockingly angry gaze. “So maybe I have a life that
doesn’t revolve around my fake husband. Are you jealous?”
“Back on
topic,” I continued, “I spoke to everyone. They all understand that it’s my
fault, and that I was a fool for doing that in front of them all. I pinned the
crosshairs on myself, so to speak.”
Kiona was
staring at me with a quizzical look in her eyes.
“What’s the
matter?”
“You
did
that?” She asked.
“Of course I
did. What, did you think I was going to leave things as they were? Key, have a
little more faith in me.” I felt somewhat disappointed – her expression
clearly told me that she had. “Look, I sat everyone down and had a big
heart-to-heart to the group. It was very productive. I explained my role in
knowing that you were fabricating everything, and that I had personally hired
you. It was made crystal clear that I didn’t hold anybody personally
accountable for that.”
“Who’d have
thought that Cold King Cole would have a
heart-to-heart
with anyone…especially his employees.”
“What was
that? Old King Cole?”
“Oh,
nothing!” She smiled, wide-eyed.
I narrowed my
own eyes, but continued. “I also took the liberty of calling an impromptu
executive meeting. There were some discussions with the board…and now I
understand where I screwed up by firing you.”
“Coppersmith,”
she replied.
“He’s been
loyal, useful, and ultimately contributed a lot of success to my agency. I’ve
rewarded him handsomely for it as well…but I’m afraid he has become something
of a liability now.”
“That’s what
Larry was telling me.”
My eyes
narrowed again, and anger swelled up inside. These were not matters that
supervisors should discuss freely with my staff. “
Larry?
What did Larry tell you, precisely?”
Kiona
stammered. “No, I mean, he didn’t really know either. The only reason he said
anything was because he wanted me to be his successor… I know it’s silly, but
I’ve spent years doing jobs I only pretended to be good at. It was nice to be
recognized for once. I enjoyed working at the company, and when Larry told me
he was thinking about recommending me for the promotion…”
She looked
disappointed suddenly, retreating inside.
“Look, Key,”
I told her, my fingers curling around her chin and lifting it up.
My god, she looks so beautiful with those
wide eyes…
“It’s all okay now. Larry isn’t in any trouble. As for
Coppersmith…I’ll deal with him personally, in due time. I’m going to hire a new
marketing head to replace Larry, and he’ll ascend to take Coppersmith’s role as
Director. Everything will go back to normal. Besides, you’re going to be
sitting on fifteen million and you had no intention of taking that promotion.”
Kiona nodded
softly, gazing into my eyes. We were standing on opposite sides of an
elbow-high divider, and I wanted nothing more in that instant than to sweep her
into my arms and press my lips against hers, to swallow her essence whole. What
the hell was wrong with me?
No,
I thought to myself sternly.
You know what you must do.
I began to
concentrate again, taking a deep, soothing breath as I closed my eyes.
I can’t let her inside. I can’t let ANY of
them inside. Just calm down…relax everything…and push the safety of those walls
back up…
“Let’s get
married,” I told her suddenly, as I pulled myself away.
“What, right now?”
She muttered, gazing out the window. “Don’t you think it’s kind of late on a
Sunday to do that?”
“Yeah, you’re
right,” I thought to myself. Truthfully, I had just wanted to break the tension
before I did anything stupid. “But first thing in the morning. Let’s go ahead
and make it official.”
“Yeah…alright
then…but no church.” Kiona responded.
“No church?”
“Yeah. We do
this secularly, okay?”
I turned to
watch her, wondering why she was so insistent on that. She was clearly
disappointed that I’d broken the moment, but my mental fortifications were
already in place. I wiped my hands with a nearby rag, setting my wine glass
aside, and glanced over at the setting sun again.
“That’s an
easier arrangement to make anyway.”
She nodded in
my peripheral vision.
“It’s going
to be a busy day tomorrow,” I warned her with a false smile as I strolled
towards my master suite. Kiona glanced after me, her wine glass held
contemplatively as I left the room. “If I were you, I’d get my rest.”
Kiona
The Next
Morning
Under a
magnificent pavilion in an exorbitantly opulent rooftop garden, sixty stories
above street level, Cole Andrews and I stood side by side. The minister recited
from the open book in his hands as our witnesses – Aiswarya, who was
taking a long, early lunch, and one of the nameless suits from Andrews
Enterprises – stood in observance nearby.
Cole firmly
squeezed my hand. Although this entire thing was nothing more than some weird
business deal, set up to benefit a
second
,
later business deal, there was an odd air of finality to it all regardless.
This
arrangement may have been improvised at the last second, but it was the most
beautiful wedding spot I’d ever seen. The stresses of producing my birth
certificate and getting the papers in order this morning, even with Cole’s
resources and ability to get things done, had evaporated upon seeing the
fantastic landscaping of the fairytale rooftop. Even the normally gloomy sky
had been a stunning, endless blue for us, as if welcoming this little
arrangement.
But when I
looked into Cole’s eyes at the end, as he placed a gorgeous, silver diamond wedding
ring on my finger, I saw a brief glimpse of something more than the typical
Cold King Cole
treatment. In his eyes,
there was…love, compassion, and admiration?
It caught me
off-guard, but I didn’t have to improvise a smile in even the slightest. This
may have been some mutually beneficial, arranged sham of the act, but I did
find myself drawn to this ridiculous man – and I wanted to know more
about him.
We exchanged
our “
I do’s
”, and when prompted, he
drew me close and planted the traditional kiss on my lips. It was supposed to
be for show…
And I felt
honest-to-God
sparks
.
I knew he
could feel them too, because his lips lingered against mine longer than
necessary, and as he pulled back he was staring searchingly into my eyes,
confused but intrigued.
“That was
some first kiss,” I whispered, barely audible.
There was
minor clapping from the minister and our witnesses, snapping us out of the
moment. When we turned, I gazed upon them all in a small daze, surprised by the
brief moment of passion that had erupted between us out of the blue. Where the
hell did that come from?
After that,
we signed the marriage license, complete with witness signatures, and everyone
departed. Cole escorted me privately back down to the street level and climbed
into the driver’s seat of a gorgeous Audi R8. For a moment, I wanted to laugh.
It figured that he’d drive an Audi. Typical billionaire!
“Where do you
want to honeymoon, my blushing bride?” He asked nonchalantly as I joined him in
the car. It was the first words we had exchanged since the marriage ceremony.
It occurred to me that this is why he’d asked me to pack a few changes of
clothes to bring, but I still hadn’t gotten over his personal choice of car.
“Cole, are
you sure you haven’t been reading any billionaire romance novels lately? There
had better not be handcuffs and spanking paddles in the trunk…”
“Key, I
assure you I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied with a look of
misunderstanding and confusion on his face.
“Okay,” I
replied, dropping the subject. “How about Venice?” I asked. “I’ve always wanted
to see the drowning city…”
Cole paused
awkwardly, his gaze turning to face out his window. “Let’s keep it in the
States, perhaps.”
“Oh. Okay.
How about…” I thought to myself, my eyes falling upon my diamond ring. I began
to absentmindedly twist the band along my finger. My thumb brushed across the
etched markings along the band as I thought to myself.
“Yes?”
“What about
New Orleans?” I asked. “I’ve heard so much about it, but I’ve never been.”
Cole
contemplated this, a strong smile sliding across his lips. After a quick nod,
he turned the key and brought the engine roaring to life. A moment later we
were accelerating onto the freeway as he used the steering wheel controls to
place a phone call to his assistant. Her voice filled the cabin of her sports
car with congratulations and well wishes. Cole gave her a moment to finish, and
finally spoke up.
“Have the
pilot prep my jet. My wife and I are flying to New Orleans.”
*
*
*
The flight
took roughly three and a half hours. In that time frame, Cole and I enjoyed a
few pairs of daiquiris, delighting ourselves in conversation about the
impending itinerary upon touch-down, how long we were staying, and all the
delicious Cajun food we were about to eat.
We settled on
three days, considering that we didn’t know each other all
that
well, and Cole had to return for business soon anyway. He
informed me that, in the meantime, the board was handling Andrews Enterprises
– I was briefly reminded of the interference in Larry’s promotion, and
felt responsibility for my part in dismantling it.
The Louis
Armstrong New Orleans International Airport was not directly
in
New Orleans, but rather on the very
western outskirts – arguably part of the border town
Kenner
. Upon arrival, we were immediately picked up via small,
black sedan and driven in New Orleans proper. The route wrapped around the
airport outside, stretching along the airfield for quite some time before
giving us a few turns and depositing us on Interstate 10, right in front of the
city.
I marveled at
the completely different aesthetic of the buildings as we were driven down the
winding, curving Interstate. On our left, the Mercedes-Benz Superdome dominated
the area, the large dome carving out a space among the massive cluster of
buildings. As interstate exits wrapped around like tendrils, whipping out and
lifting our passage higher into the air, we curved downwards and upwards while
moving towards our destination.
The driver
took us off near Downtown New Orleans, and we circled around the Superdome as
we merged onto the main streets of the Business District. The streets appeared
cleaner, with far less people than the insane throngs of passersby that I
experienced back home. Even without a subway system, the pavement wasn’t
completely inundated – and the medians in the middle of the streets
featured geometric art shapes, as if a pack of design students had overthrown
the Tourism board and decorated everything in sight.
Our hotel was
a relatively new building, not far from here. A tall, pristine building with
incredible Greco-Roman architecture on the street level, the
Herelton Deluxe
was a fantastic display
of exquisite excess. Our executive suite, somehow arranged that very day, was a
fancy reimagining of the penthouse back in New York – featuring plenty of
rich, red, wood paneling, a luxurious King-sized bed, and a private Jacuzzi
with marble countertops and a comparably massive flat-screen television
surrounded by comfortable leather furniture.
“You spared
no expense!” I gasped, taking everything in as my mouth gawked open at it all.
“I am
afforded certain luxuries,” Cole smiled. “Come. I’m starving, and I know you
must be too.”
*
*
*
We chose to
eat a nearby, somewhat discerning restaurant that boasted top-shelf Louisianan
cuisine with criminally high prices and, in my opinion, better
taste
. Although, I have to admit that
I’m glad I was already accustomed to spicy food, because what I enjoyed that
night was on a whole other level.
For our
appetizer, we enjoyed fried alligator strips alongside tart shrimp rémoulade,
followed by a sampler plate of oysters en brochette, fried okra, hush puppies,
seasoned butter bread, and crawfish bites.
After we had
slowly but surely conquered our starter courses, our soups came out a short
while later – a creamy crawfish bisque for Cole, and a bowl of hot, spicy
gumbo for myself.
The main
course was whisked to our table a short while after the bowls were cleared.
Cole had ordered himself a free-for-all dinner that included zesty baked bell
peppers stuffed with dirty rice and jalapeno, a hearty helping of traditional
jambalaya complete with chicken, shrimp, and Andouille sausage, and a robust
side cup of crawfish étouffée. Meanwhile, I had gone for something a little
simpler – a fried catfish platter with fried shrimp tails and hush
puppies, over a wide bed of spicy seasoned fries – tossed with a blend of
garlic, chili pepper, and a little cayenne.
For dessert,
we split a sizzling, flambéed bowl of bananas foster. Our server was sure to
whip up the incredible burst of steam and light fire tableside, eagerly
presenting the classic New Orleans dish with great reverence.
“Please
enjoy, Monsieur and Madam Andrews,” the server bowed lightly as he took his
leave. That first bite of bananas foster was absolutely incredible, and the
perfect way to cap off the perfect meal.
Cole was
still suffering from the exorbitantly taxing palate of spices, and he had
already gone through several glasses of water with the meal.
“I told you
to drink something other than water,” I teased him lightly after another
scrumptious bite. “These aren’t the kinds of spices you’re used to. Water’s
just going to wash them all over your tongue. You need something to cancel them
out. Here, have another sip of wine…”
I handed him
my wine glass, and he eagerly took a swing of the vintage. Setting it aside, he
seemed somewhat more comfortable, and excused himself from the table for a few
coughs. He’d been stifling some small coughs all meal, but I naturally
attributed that to the spicy food.
After we paid
our meal and tipped the server handsomely for his expertise and courtesies, we
went out for a night on the town. A tip-off from a local sent us in the
direction of Frenchman Street, to the “best-kept secret” in the music world, a
jazzy cocktail bar that was full of spirit, personality, and incredible
acoustics. While we were a little overdressed for the event having come from
one of the most exclusive restaurants in the city, we still blended in well
with the crowd and enjoyed the passion of the four-piece jazz ensemble that
played incredible, soulful jazz and blues from the stage.
Cole was far
more relaxed here, away from the streets of New York. Anywhere near his
building or home the paparazzi were always hunting for him, but nobody knew
whom this young, sharp-dressed man was down in the Deep South.
I was pretty
relaxed as well. This was my kind of crowd and my kind of city.
As the
musicians worked their magic, I felt myself happy in Cole’s arms, leaning
against his body and absorbing the very soul of their performances. We had to
keep up appearances, after all… It didn’t even occur to me at the time that we
were intimately wrapped around one another while enjoying the passionate, soothing
music.