WIFE WANTED (A Billionaire Bad Boy Romance) (5 page)

Chapter 6

Phoebe woke to a bright light peeking through the blinds and the loud sound of someone banging pots around in her kitchen. Everything hurt, and she groaned as she rolled off the chair and onto the floor with a painful thud.

“Well, good morning, sunshine,” Charlotte called from the kitchen.

“Meh,” Phoebe muttered, wiping drool from her lip.

“Oh, now that’s attractive. We should add that to your profile.”

Phoebe glanced at her, confused, as she made her way to the kitchen island and sat down heavily on a stool. “Profile? What are you talking about?”

“The profile that you made last night. Already have quite a few messages to sort through,” Charlotte said, turning the laptop around for her to see. “Even got one from that last guy we looked at. Your Bruce Wayne friend.”

Phoebe felt the blood drain from her face as she grabbed the laptop, nearly breaking the screen. “I thought this was a bad dream, a really bad dream…why did you let me do this? Everyone’s going to think I’m a freaking gold digger!” She checked through her inbox to find twenty e-mails just from this morning. “Charlotte, what the hell were we thinking?”

“That your mom needs that surgery and you need money. Unless you want to work yourself to death for the next two months, this is your only option.” Her friend walked around to her side and shrugged. “Besides, some of these guys don’t look too bad.”

She was right, as much as Phoebe didn’t want to admit it. Anna—the name she’d used as her alias—apparently did have something to attract a few of these guys, considering they hadn’t even seen a picture yet. Maybe she’d respond to just a few…maybe.

“I have to head to the hospital,” Charlotte said, pulling her out of her trance.

“What, already? How come you aren’t hungover?”

“Because unlike you, I’m a pro.” She gave Phoebe a quick hug and said she’d call her with updates on her mom in exchange for updates on the manhunt. The door closed behind her, and Phoebe got up to lock it before she took one more glance at the screen and then headed for a shower. She needed to be fully awake before she dealt with any of that craziness.

An hour later, and feeling slightly better, she headed back to the kitchen and took the laptop to the couch. Charlotte would be back for it later, she knew. Phoebe’s computer didn’t exactly work too well. If ever. Not that she had money to fix it.

“All right, then, I guess I’ll just start with the first one from last night,” she said as she clicked on the first message.

The man was thirty, with dark hair and green eyes. He was worth quite a bit of money and owned a law firm in Boston. She skimmed through the other details, then back up at his picture. Boston was a bit far from where she wanted to go, so she politely messaged him back and said it was too far away because she didn’t have a way to get to Boston. She went through a few more e-mails, a few making her laugh until she cried at the age of these men. Sixty and seventy years old? She was desperate, but she still had class…and a bit of self-respect.

She made a pot of coffee after another hour of looking before she finally reached the e-mail from the last guy they’d checked out. There was no picture, and when she searched his name online, nothing popped up. But it said he worked for one of the top internet security firms in the country.

“Hmm, guess you can’t show your face,” she mused. “Or your name…wonder if yours is fake too then, Mr. Wayne.” She thought about replying but a new message came in, distracting her. “Well now, who are you?”

His picture popped up, and she leaned back into the couch cushions, enjoying the sight of him. He had buzzed hair, but it looked good on him in his black suit and red shirt. His smile was gentle and almost sweet. The brown of his eyes was light, a bit on the hazel side. Phoebe read through his profile and nodded in approval to find him in the city.

Another message window popped up on the screen. There was just one word typed in it:
Hello.

He’s online right now? He can see me?

Her hands froze on the laptop as she glanced around the apartment as if someone would see.
Quit being stupid, Phoebe. Take a breath.
He couldn’t actually see her, so what was the harm in chatting a little? She clicked in the box and said hi back.

It took a second before another message popped up:
I was just checking my messages and saw you on. Hope you don’t mind, lunch break.

“Ah, lunch break,” she mused and told him she didn’t mind. She was currently on vacation from work. “What is it you do at your company?” she whispered out loud as she typed. She took a long sip of her coffee and waited before another message came up. He told her he was VP of marketing within Grayson and Grayson Holdings.

Phoebe nearly spit her coffee all over the computer. That was the largest stocks and accounting business in the state, and he was the VP? Why was he even talking to someone like her? He didn’t even know what she looked like!

“Just keep it together,” she muttered. “Stay calm. This is what you were hoping for, right?”

Where’s Charlotte when I need her?

She glanced around the apartment, trying to figure out what to say, when her eyes found a picture of her and her mother from just a few years ago. They’d been happy, been a family. Now, she was watching her mother die a slow and painful death. Losing a bit of herself every day. She couldn’t stand to watch that happen. Not when there was something she could do about it.

“Okay, Phoebe, just be a sophisticated version of yourself,” she said, then started typing. “Just keep it simple.”

An hour later, Phoebe signed off and closed the laptop, any thought of messaging her mysterious other man forgotten. She needed to call Charlotte, check in on her mother and then…then she had to get ready for a dinner date.

Tonight.

Chapter 7

Riley’s head pounded as he buried it beneath the pillows on his bed again.
Too much…why do we always have to drink too much?
He had no idea what time it was or where Ben had gotten to. All he remembered was stumbling around the place after his grandfather’s funeral, whiskey bottle in hand, muttering curses about women and marriage. There was a time he’d had dreams about such things. A time when that was all he wanted. A wedding to the woman he loved.

Then the accident happened, and all thoughts of happy endings disappeared in a puff of smoke.

A door opened somewhere in the expansive penthouse and he cringed. “Go away!”

“You don’t even know who it is.”

Riley lifted his head, wincing at the pain of moving his head, and opened one eye enough to see Ben standing in the doorway to his bedroom. “Yeah, I do. My worst nightmare. I don’t want to talk about it. Go away.”

“Sorry, but it’s three in the afternoon.” Ben strode across the room and, before Riley could manage to fully hide his face again, he slid the curtains back to reveal floor-to-ceiling windows and the bright afternoon sunlight.

“Damn it!” Riley tried to roll over but was already on the edge of the bed. With a loud thud, he landed on the hardwood floor as Ben came back around the side and shook his head. “Shut up. I don’t want to hear it.” Riley pulled himself slowly to his feet and stood there, a bit unsteady, as Ben tried not to laugh at his friend.

“Listen, I know this is rough, but we have to start looking through these women.”

Riley waved him off and staggered to the bathroom to relieve himself. When he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, he flinched.
Man, I haven’t looked this bad since Meredith died
. There were heavy bags under his eyes, and his scruff was coming back in, dark and already thick. He looked wan, almost sick. When was the last time he was this hungover? He might like to hang out with women, but he usually didn’t drink too much. After what happened, it had been a personal decision. He smoothed a hand over his rough face, then messed up his already messy hair some more. He called out to Ben that he was taking a shower and they could go over the issue of marriage when he was a bit more presentable.

It didn’t take long for the water to heat up, and Riley moved under the spray after he shed his crumpled funeral suit. He hadn’t even changed before he and Ben made it back to the penthouse and drank away his sorrows. They’d laughed, he’d cried, and at some point, they’d started to talk about marriage and what it would it would have been like if Meredith had lived. He would’ve already been married to the woman of his dreams. There’d be no need to find someone else.

And yet, she was dead and now, and his grandfather was forcing him to move on.

He was never one for tantrums, but all he wanted to do was throw one. It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair. Hadn’t he dealt with enough? Lost enough?

The hot water dripped down his chest and over his head, covering his eyes. It felt good just to stand there in the humid air. Part of him thought that maybe he should just turn down the offer and hand everything over to Diane. Run away from the city, start over. Somewhere people didn’t know who he was. He had enough of his own money stashed away. He could live anywhere he wanted. Work for another company remotely. Hell, he could start his own company if he really wanted to.

But could he really leave behind everything his grandfather had built?

No, I can’t, because that damn woman is involved with Yancey
, he thought, growing angry. His hands curled into fists to think she’d dated his grandfather, acted like she was in love with him, cared for him, yet showed up at the man’s funeral with the enemy. They had to be planning something. Riley wasn’t going to leave town until he knew what.

After cleaning himself up, he got out of the shower, dried, and threw on some dark jeans and a black t-shirt. He thought about shaving but decided against it as he put his stud back in his ear. If he was going to find a woman to spend the rest of his life with, he wanted to look like himself. Not some damn suit.

“All right, Ben,” he said as he headed to the kitchen. Ben had files laid out all across the counter and sat, calmly sipping a glass of whiskey. He slid one to Riley, but he shook his head. “I’ll hold off for a bit.”

Ben’s brow twitched, and he grinned. “Suit yourself.” He pointed to the files before them. “So, these are some of the possibilities I’ve found for you. Each one is pretty acceptable for what you want, and most of them are also looking to be married sooner rather than later. They don’t mind a short courtship.”

“Really? Let me guess, they all need money for something.”

“Most likely, but we really don’t have a choice.”

“Great. I’m going to marry a freaking gold digger who’s going to take all my money,” Riley muttered as he skimmed over the profiles. Most of them were beautiful, definitely nice to look at, but their eyes were cold. He slid one to the side then another, muttering about their professions, if they even had one. Most of these women were unemployed. “This is going to be a long two months. And you couldn’t find any loopholes? Anywhere?”

Ben reached for the file that contained the old man’s will. “No, not one. Your grandfather was very thorough in eliminating any chance you might have to get out of this deal. Either you marry or you lose everything to do with his company and the inheritance.”

“Damn.” He didn’t even know where to start. The women staring back at him from their pictures…none of them looked like they could handle being his wife. Not that he was crazy by any means, but he wanted a partner, someone to whom he could talk, whom he could trust. These women looked like all the ones who wound up in his bed at night and snuck out by morning. “I can’t do this on an empty stomach. Need some food. Want Chinese or Italian? I’m going to order in…what?”

“I sort of maybe…set you up on a date tonight.”

“Ben…seriously, man? Come on.”

“What? You are on a time constraint, and I know you. You’ll wait ‘til the last second, and then you’ll be really unhappy,” he argued. “Just go on the damn date. What’s the harm in it?”

“She could be crazy, that’s the harm,” he said as he snatched the file off the table that Ben indicated. “Trisha? Really, her name is Trisha?”

“Riley, I’m your friend, so know when I say this it’s because I love you.” Riley snorted as Ben shot back the rest of his whiskey and set his glass down. “Go get dressed and look presentable. You are going on this damn date, even if I have to drag your sorry ass there myself. Oh, and by the way, you’re borrowing my name until you know for sure. Keeps you somewhat secure.” His words were met with another loud curse. “You’re welcome.”

Riley glanced up to find his friend, who rarely ever got annoyed, glaring at him. His green eyes darkened and he tapped his fingers on the counter, waiting for Riley to get moving. “Fine, fine. Just for you, I will go on this stupid date.”

He headed back to his bedroom as Ben called out, “Don’t worry. If this one doesn’t work out, I already set up another for tomorrow.”

“Course you did!” Riley headed to his walk-in closet and stared.
What do I wear on a blind date with a woman who might end up as my wife? Hell, this is insane. Who cares?
He pulled a button-up black shirt off the hanger and threw it on over his t-shirt, then headed to the bathroom to gel his hair. Once it was not as messy, he rolled up his sleeves, showing off the tattoos on his forearms. Remembrances for those he’d lost. On the left was a white lily with vines and his parents’ initials written along their lengths. On the other was a phoenix feather and Meredith’s initials. The feather ranged in color from red to shades of orange and yellow.