Accidentally Married to the Billionaire

When he graduated, his father insisted he come home. Brandon had asked, he had practically begged his dad to take him skiing or boating or anything rather than back to that house. He hadn’t mentioned Lena at the time. He hadn’t wanted to make trouble, but he knew his father suspected there was discord between them. He also knew his father had done fuck all to make sure he saw his own and only son despite her. It was only when he turned eighteen that his dad made an effort and by ‘effort’ that meant he issued a command. Brandon had gone, had stayed out of the house as much as possible—catching up with old friends, he had said by way of excuse.

And yet, apart from a ‘family dinner’ the night Brandon arrived, his dad made little attempt to see him. It had been another in a litany of disappointments. After college, Brandon had joined the family business at his father’s invitation, but they’d never grown closer. Seeing each other at the office and at occasional dinner meetings with other executives made up the bulk of their contact. No birthday celebrations, no holidays. At Christmas, Lena liked to go to ‘their’ home in St. Barth’s and invite friends. He had never been, nor was he likely to become, one of Lena Cates’ friends.

So here he was, marrying a complete stranger to cut Lena out. It seemed immature, vindictive. She got rid of all his mother’s things and slapped him; therefore, he would commit fraud to keep her from getting his dad’s business. He had the education and impressive resume to get a job anywhere in the world, and the trust fund to make sure he didn’t have to work if he didn’t like it. And yet, he was beating his head against the wall, had been for the last four years, to block the terms of his father’s will so he could keep Power Regions.

Brandon rubbed his hands over his face and shook his head. Everything felt thorny, too complicated, too fraught. He didn’t want to examine why exactly he needed to lay claim to his dad’s company, didn’t want to sit on a therapist’s couch and discuss his issues with his parents. He just wanted to forget. Since he couldn’t usually drink alcohol or numb out with drugs, there was no oblivion for him there. He paced the length of the sunken living room in his suite, restless.

When she appeared in the doorway of the bedroom wrapped in the white sheets, he wondered what in hell he’d done...and why he hadn’t done it sooner. She advanced toward him and dropped her sheet. Brandon opened his arms.

Chapter 10

Marj woke up in a king sized bed. Which was weird because her hotel room had a double. She was also butt naked with a sheet wrapped around her leg.

This was not her room.

Marj was completely hung over. How much did I drink? Obviously too much. Her head throbbed and her eyes burned.

She sat up, pushing her tangled hair out of her eyes and looking around. Her clothes were not readily visible. The bed was empty except for herself. She must’ve come here with someone, some guy she picked up after six or seven drinks. She rubbed her eyes and her hands came away smeared with eyeliner. She had to find her stuff and get out of here before whoever he was came back. She didn’t want to deal with some random hookup. Especially not when she had nothing on.

Nothing except a very suspicious new diamond ring on a crucial finger.

“Holy. Fucking. Shit,” she muttered, looking accusatorily at the offending jewelry.

Whoever she picked up couldn’t be filed away in the one-night stand category. It looked perilously as if he was going to occupy the brief and unexpected position of First Husband. Soon to be Ex-Husband, as soon as she could find her damn underwear and get out of here.

She jerked at the sheet to cover herself, for a wrap until she could locate her clothes from the previous night. Her head was pounding. Her heart was pounding. Surely she’d worn clothes last night. She couldn’t quite remember what they looked like, but surely she must’ve had something on. She pulled on the stubborn sheet again, unable to get it loose. Glancing toward the foot of the rumpled bed, she saw that it wasn’t tucked in to the mattress. So it was stuck on something.

She yanked again, and still it didn’t come free. She crawled across the bed and looked over the edge. Well, that made sense. The sheet was stuck under the naked man on the floor. She winced, dragged on the sheet again, and then screamed with frustration. The admittedly handsome form stirred and turned its face toward her, blinking sleepily.

He was hot. That sheet was stuck on a hot naked guy. This made things ever so slightly more complicated. She had gotten drunken, gotten married, gotten laid by what was probably the best looking man she’d ever seen. When he rolled over, she wondered fleetingly if he was bionic or something because there was a wire and a round bandage thing on his stomach. Was he electronic? A.I.? A bomb? She scooted away from the edge. Everything was fuzzy.