Accidentally Married to the Billionaire
“Yeah.”
“You can’t date your boss,” Maria said. “You gotta break up with him right now.”
“You mean divorce him...”
“You married your boss?”
“He’s not just my boss, but the CEO of Power Regions, Ltd.”
“Honey, are you telling me you married the CEO of your company?”
“Go look on Facebook, the pics will speak for themselves. Oh, wait. I took them down. Never mind.”
“Did you go to the Candlelight Chapel where Whoopi Goldberg, Bette Midler, and Sir Michael Caine got married?”
“It’s all a blur, really. A hazy recollection.”
“I guess ‘What happens in Vegas doesn’t stay in Vegas.’”
“Not when you obtain a marriage license.”
“If you got married while drunk, it’s not valid.”
“Being drunk doesn’t make me ‘not married.’”
“Maybe it’s all legal. But it’s definitely grounds for an annulment. Las Vegas is the reason why annulments were put into effect anyway. You can get married and divorced before you leave.”
“Ha ha.” Marj rubbed her pounding head. “It’s all a little overwhelming right now. The whole thing felt insane.”
“Maybe my advice about finding a guy offline wasn’t the way to go. Maybe you should get back on Blender.”
“Tinder.”
“Yeah, that’s the one. I like it. It’s disturbingly addicting.”
“How would you know?”
“Well, uh...”
“You signed up?!”
“Hey, don’t turn this around on me.”
“You so signed up!”
“Yesterday, I went on a coffee date with a man named Earl who is widowed. He even drives and was nice enough to pick me up and... Enough of me, back to you, Marj.”
“You said to meet a guy the old fashion way,” Marj said. “And I did. I even got married first. Now how honorable is that?”
“Meeting a guy the old fashion way is talking to somebody you have a connection with, and then going for coffee. Not a drunken night of love in the Vegas bars and casinos, then running off to a little Vegas chapel and getting hitched.”
“I know. I came to the City of Sin to drink and gamble. I didn’t expect to accidently marry a billionaire.”
“And now what?”
“I stay married...for now.”
“Was the marriage consummated?”
“Very much so.”
“You got married on a whim?”
“He needed me.”
“For what? A Green card?”
“Brandon is a US citizen.”
“Do you love him?” she asked.
“That’s a very complex question. And it’s one I really don’t want to get into at the moment.”
“It’s an easy one, if you ask me. Yes or No.”
“I gotta go. I really need to think about this, okay.”
“Okay. But call me if you want to talk.”
“I will. And thanks for caring.”
Biting her lip, Marj said goodbye and hung up. She knew she was in for a long lecture when she got back. She wanted to tell Maria the truth, but she knew that wasn’t an option. She’d sworn she wouldn’t tell anyone.
When Marj was in the Town Car, she tried to question Rafael but determined that he couldn’t hear her. It must have something to do with the partition, she decided. When they arrived at the Forum shops, he offered to come along and carry her bags, but she politely declined. He programed his number into her phone so she could summon him to pick up her packages and tell him where to meet her. This, she decided, did not suck.
The mall was crowded, the surroundings opulent Roman frescos and moldings—a surreal juxtaposition of modern consumerism and past artistry. She dodged in and out of shops with smart designer labels, restless and almost unwilling to try anything on. It felt like she was pretending to be someone else, someone who could afford fancy things and have a place to wear them. Someone, for instance, who was buying an outfit just to step off of a plane in.
She tried on a red beaded cocktail dress just for fun, but found it too heavy. Instead, she gravitated toward jeans, beautifully cut dark wash ones that looked trouserish but cool. She tried a pair on impulse, admired her toned thighs and backside in the mirror, and bought them, not even wincing at the three digit price tag—even throwing in the blouse, the rugged cropped military jacket and scarf that went with them on the mannequin display. It was the kind of dressed down chic she always admired in magazines—a sort of edgier Kate Middleton, a Jennifer Lawrence on a coffee run with big sunglasses and that effortless oh-gorgeous-just-happens sort of ensemble.