Accidentally Married to the Billionaire

Marj looked at Brandon. “It’s so romantic. We’re getting married in a little white chapel.”

The woman greeted Marj with a white paper box. “Ms. Reynolds? This is for you. It’s just arrived.”

Marj lifted the lid and found the most beautiful hand-tied rose bouquet she’d ever seen. It was wrapped with wide cream-colored ribbon, the blossoms full and icy white. She smiled at Brandon, knowing he’d ordered these for her. She hesitated only a moment before she stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek.

“Thank you.”

“Just being properly grateful,” he said, but he smiled and she felt that explosive blow to her chest, the air whooshing out of her lungs appreciatively in reaction to all that gorgeousness.

Music swelled and he waited for her at the makeshift white plastic altar. She took slow, measured steps to the beat of the music, which seemed oddly enough to be a limping rendition of Sunrise, Sunset. At last, she passed all those rows of empty chairs and reached Brandon who held out his hand. She took it, finding it hard to balance her heavy bouquet in one hand. This was why a woman had bridesmaids; she realized with a nearly hysterical laugh, so someone could hold her crap while she got married. She stooped and laid her bouquet on the floor. Straightening, she gave both of her hands to her fiancé and smiled a little shakily at him.

His hands were warm and steady, and it helped to hold on to him as the officiant rattled off the serious moral implications of the vows they were about to make to one another. She felt wobbly, not just from all the wine and whiskey and whatever was in that one blue drink. She felt unsteady because of the fact she was marrying a stranger on impulse. She didn’t want to think too hard about it because she figured she’d run for the exit as fast as her ironically blue suede shoes could carry her.

There was a branch of candles on a stand flanking either side of the altar. She stared intently at one of the candle flames, hard and bright. It was a point of focus for her, to stop her from overthinking—if she could even marshal a rational thought through all the alcohol she’d consumed and the dazzle of her new diamonds, the whirlwind aspect of it all. She looked just beyond his shoulder at the candles, and it kept her still. When prompted, she answered that she did, in fact, vow all sorts of serious things to this handsome man she knew so little about.

He slipped the ring on her finger and kissed her softly as the hostess took pictures with both their phones. They were directed to stand before a backdrop of clouds and doves for portraits. The officiant himself took the pictures, and she watched as Brandon forked over money for the picture package. When instructed, he dipped her and kissed her. He bent on one knee before her. He stood with his hands at her waist, diffident as any sixteen-year-old going to prom. She was faintly embarrassed by the exaggerated poses, but she started laughing when he scooped her up in his arms. She kicked her feet and waved her bouquet in the air with a flourish.

In the car after the ceremony, Marj whipped out her phone.

“Okay, do you want to tweet it first or shall I? This is how you start a media frenzy. Tease a secret wedding and then disappear from social media for twelve hours.”

“I can’t believe that’s your first thought after getting married. You’re a genius.”

“I could market in my sleep, honey. How’s this? I’ll tweet the picture of the rings on the folder, and you post the one of us kissing at the altar. Tag me in it.”

“Okay,” he said, tinkering with his phone.

Within moments, the tagged wedding photo was getting retweets and comments and starting to trend.

“Now turn off your phone. We want every speculative article to end with the words, ‘Mr. Cates could not be reached for comment,’ it drives people crazy!” she nearly squealed.

“Done,” he said, powering down his iPhone and tucking it in his pocket, “I have more pressing matters to attend.”

Marj walked into the lobby of the hotel; his hand warm in the small of her back through the fabric of her dress—her lucky dress, she thought smugly. He pulled her close in the elevator and kissed her neck. Her whole body seemed to hum. She could feel every point of contact on her body, every spot where he touched her, where his skin met hers.

She had gone to bed with men who’d only bought her a drink, never a ring, never a promise to cleave only unto her for...well, for a year and that was a bigger commitment than she’d ever had out of anyone else (ahem, Luke). If she was still sort of hung up on her ex, what did it matter? This was for the greater good...to keep a rich man from losing his dad’s corporation and to keep a rich woman from firing all her female employees or something. It was muddled in Marj’s head, how this served the greater good of the universe, but she was fairly sure it was the just and righteous thing to do. In fact, sleeping with her new husband was practically her patriotic duty.