Married to the Secret Billionaire

We both pick at our salad course, until I pick up my glass of white wine and take a long swig for courage. “Okay, first secret first. My name isn’t Ankor.”

Sinclair’s jaw actually drops. I don’t know what she expected me to reveal, but it probably wasn’t anything of this magnitude.

She has no idea. I’m only just getting started. To her credit, she doesn’t interrupt. But she does pick up her glass of wine, too, and drain more than a dainty sip as she watches me, waiting for the rest.

Here goes nothing. Once I tell her this, she could ruin the whole setup I have here. This is everything I swore I wouldn’t risk. Everything I promised myself I was coming here to avoid. But like I told her in the pool—what I feel for her, I’ve never felt for anyone. This is special. And I’m not going to risk losing her just because I’m afraid what opening up will do.

If she takes this information and runs, so be it. If not? Well… If not, then maybe this really can be something.

“My real name is Marco Helmtree.”

Sinclair watches me for a second. But I see the moment when the words land. When recognition hits. Her eyebrows shoot upright, and she straightens in her chair. “Wait. Marco Helmtree? Like… of Helmtree Industries?” Her gaze searches my face, as if seeking clues she should have picked up on.

I can’t help it. I grin a little, wryly. Well, if I’d ever had any doubt that she secretly knew who I really was and was just playing along, it’s assuaged now. “One and the same,” I say.

“But your company is one of the largest tech companies in the world,” she says. “Aren’t you some kind of billionaire genius?” Her brow furrows. “Why in the world are you teaching swimming lessons at a resort?”

I hold up a hand. “Do you want the story, or not?”

With an effort, she clamps her mouth shut and mimes zipping it, then throwing away the key. But she sits back in her chair with her wine glass and proceeds to take more than a few sips, as I continue talking.

“I needed a break,” I say. “I haven’t taken a single day off work since I founded the company out of my parents’ garage at 18. As you probably know, I never even bothered with college. It was just, work work work, from the moment I got my first idea. And don’t get me wrong, I love what I do. But it was consuming my whole life. And my relationships, well…” I shake my head. “I’ve had a whole string of them, each one worse than the last, women just after me for my money. But it was my most recent ex who really takes the prize. You probably saw the smear campaigns she put out in the media last summer. I couldn’t even leave my house without swarms of reporters asking me if even half of what she claimed was true—that I cheated on her with her sister, that I used company funds to buy drugs and throw wild parties.”

Sinclair winces, but I can tell from her expression that she heard the same rumors.

“None of it was true, not that the press much cares. They love a good story, no matter how full of bullshit.” I sigh. “Anyway, between that and all the stress of launching our latest product , I needed to get away. And my next-in-command, Hannah Danver, she’d more than proven herself capable of being the CEO. So, I stepped down, and I put out false reports that I’d be spending a year at a fancy ski resort in Switzerland.” I shrug, offering a wry smile. “And then I came here instead.”

I pat the arm of the chair I’m sitting on, and glance fondly over my shoulder at the rest of the resort.

“I own this hotel chain. This resort in particular is one of our worst-performing properties. Based on the usual clientele, I figured I’d have the least chance of being recognized here. Besides, who would guess that the swim instructor at a failing resort was actually some billionaire?”

I smile. Sinclair doesn’t. But she’s not running away, either, and I guess that’s a start.

She leans forward in her chair and sets her wine glass on the table. “I heard about that. Your ex, all those rumors.” Sinclair grimaces. “I’m sorry. That really must have been terrible.”

“Well, better to find out who she really was and get free of her. But I wish I hadn’t been so blind to fall for her in the first place.”

Sinclair presses her lips flat, then. Something about her expression tells me she has some experience in that area.

The seconds tick by. I reach for my wine glass and take a sip, my throat parched after all the confessing. “Well?” I murmur, after a moment has passed. “Say something.”