Marrying My Billionaire Hookup

“I don’t want you to be put off,” she adds. “I’d just like to get to know the woman my son seems determined to marry.”

“Oh. Well… I see. It’s awkward to talk here in the lobby. Do you want to go to a café?” I gesture at the place the security guard said was good.

She smiles. “That sounds lovely.”

We walk over to the café. Although I’m doing my best to be polite and open-minded with Margot for Edgar’s sake, I’m a bit uneasy. I don’t know why she’s here when she has to know Edgar’s isn’t around, especially when it’s obvious she’s been in touch with her ex-husband. I also don’t know why she was waiting for me in the lobby, rather than calling to set up an appointment. It’s not like my phone number’s a secret. I have a website for my business, for God’s sake.

I get an iced herbal tea, and she gets a latte and we take an empty booth. She takes a sip of her coffee, then places it on the table. Her fingers are moving constantly, smoothing the napkin in front of her, rearranging and repositioning her cup.

Why is she so nervous?

“Edgar must love you very much.”

My wariness goes up a notch because what she just said isn’t a statement, but a fishing attempt. It’s in the way she speaks, the probing tone, her eyes searching mine.

Saying nothing, I sip my tea.

“I hope he’s said as much. He can be a bit obtuse and not very communicative. Quite like his father,” she says, tittering a bit. “And an oldest child can be overly responsible. Edgar’s been… Well, he’s always been very serious. We girls have to figure things out from what isn’t being said as much as from what they tell us.”

“I’m sure.” I still don’t know the real reason she’s here. I doubt it’s just to see me. I’m not that important. Besides, she hasn’t said a word about the baby. Does she even know about it yet?

On the other hand, she’s acting like she’s on my team, although…against who? From some of the things she’s saying and the way she’s saying it, if I didn’t know better, I might assume she thinks we’re a team—me and her against everyone else.

The thing is, I don’t want to be on her team. I already have a team of my own consisting of my family and friends. And I don’t like people who stalk me to client sites like Margot has done. That speaks to the motive and the general tactics they like to use—sneaky and underhanded.

“Margot, may I speak frankly? You didn’t travel all the way out here just to say hi. Can you tell me what you really want?” I can play pretty word games, but I don’t want to in this case. Too much is at stake.”

“Just for us to attend a family dinner. To get to know you. And to extend a personal invitation for you to come to Tempérane. I can teach you everything about being a proper wife to someone like my son.”

Did she just imply that I wouldn’t make a proper wife to Edgar on my own?

Yes, she did, I decide, remembering what Lane said about the “family legacy” and my role. Did he send her to convince me I need to be properly schooled?

“Much as I’d love to, I can’t drop everything and go,” I say with fake sweetness. I can’t get sarcastic with Margot because…well, because my parents taught me better than to sink to her level. Besides, no matter what, she’s still Edgar’s mom. Some level of respect is required for his sake, even if she’s being insulting.

She seems genuinely confused. “But you’re going to be Edgar’s wife. There are certain expectations.”

“Such as?” I say, feigning rapt interest. This is going to be good.

“Oh, my dear, there’s so much. Running charities. Hosting social events. Attending galas. Being seen. Networking. To do all that—and do it well, of course—you need a certain polish and poise. And a certain incisiveness as well. It pays to understand everyone’s motives.”

“Are you telling me Edgar picked a woman who can’t be on his side as is?” I wonder for a moment if he feels the same way, then dismiss the thought. I’ve given him so many outs. He wouldn’t have insisted on marrying me if he thought I wasn’t suitable. But none of the things Margot brought up are anything I’ve ever pictured myself doing.

“Dear, he picked you because you aren’t like anybody he’s ever met. His life has been very regimented. Private schools. Harvard. Managing Blackwood Energy. It doesn’t leave him much time to meet people outside our social circle.”

Wow. I don’t know what kind of ballsy self-centeredness it takes for someone to heap insults, sympathy and pity at the same time. “What do you get out of ‘helping me’ and turning me into this polished and poised creature?” I ask innocently.

“I get to help my son. That’s all that a

mother can ask for.”

She’s shooting me a smile sweet enough to go on a St. Mary statue, but I know better. She isn’t here for Edgar. She’s here for me, because she thinks I can give her what she wants.

But…what? No matter how much I rack my brain, I can’t think of anything.

And then she gives me the answer. “Edgar and I have had a…falling out. It’s partly my fault, partly his, but he won’t even talk to me these days. I think if I help you, he’ll take it as the olive branch that it is. I only want to mend things with my son, Jo.”

Oh. Well, that’s an understandable motive, although I don’t like the way she’s going about things. I don’t really want to get in the middle of a mother-son drama I know nothing about, but the distress Margot is showing seems to be genuine. And I can’t imagine how hard it must be for Edgar. I’d be devastated if Mama and I got into a fight and didn’t talk to each other anymore.