Accidentally Married to the Billionaire
Marj texted the shop to Rafael so he could retrieve the bags and moved on in search of something more polished, dressier for the plane debarkation. Prowling through the smartest shops, she found alluring jeweltone separates, statement pieces, but nothing that said understated elegance.
In a swank department store, she rode the escalator to the Better Dressing section and found an entire display of what she needed. Monochromatic looks in structured shapes with touchably soft fabrics that practically announced their expensive provenance. A beautiful cashmere and silk wrap sweater that looked like it belonged on a ballerina. A pair of matching trousers in deep plum wool. Nude pumps, a camel leather and gold statement cuff, tiny tortoiseshell hoop earrings with gold accents, a buttery leather camel colored clutch purse with a distinctive designer emblem on the outside. She surveyed her reflection with satisfaction. Then she ordered the car and stood at the entrance with her bags.
Glancing at her phone, she saw that she had some texts and that it was now five o’clock. She’d lost track of the time. Annoyed with herself, and even more annoyed that she felt obligated to make excuses to some stranger who was now her husband, she texted Brandon to tell him that she was running late.
In the back of the car, she slipped the lid off the box containing her sweater and shamelessly petted it. There was something about a silk and cashmere blend, which she’d never felt before today, that was so light and luxuriant. She couldn’t wait to wear it. Marj tried not to think about the matrimonial strings tied to that purple sweater.
Chapter 13
Brandon Cates had promised his new bride that he’d speak to the lawyers about their options. He knew damn well what their options were: stay married or give Lena the business with a giant, red bow on top. Still, he kept his word and made the inquiry.
“Thank goodness you pulled it out of the fire!” his lead attorney, Brock, exclaimed, “I thought we were fucked after they got the last appeal thrown out. How’d you manage to get a bride in one night?”
“A gentleman never gives details, Brock,” Brandon said, “but the lady’s having second thoughts in the light of day and wanted me to ask you what our options are for divorce and annulment.”
“Seriously? You have your ‘get out of disinheritance free’ card and you’re going to give her an annulment? Is she that nuts? Crazier than Lena?”
“No, not crazier than Lena. Just—reluctant. I’m not going to keep her hostage.”
“I’m not suggesting that. I’m suggesting you do your best to be persuasive. I’ve seen you schmooze at dinners and get people I thought would give you the finger to end up signing on the dotted line. So turn that charisma on this girl and she won’t know what hit her. Crank it up to Extinction Level Event. This is not negotiable. You lose this girl, you lose the entire estate.”
“Well, don’t bother sugar coating it on my account, Brock. I’m a big boy, and I can handle the truth,” he said sarcastically.
“Joke all you want, Brandon, but this marriage has to last, and it has to look as real as it gets,” his lawyer said and hung up.
He knew this already, truly he did. He just wasn’t sure how to break it to Marj, who he liked. She was bold and quirky and gorgeous. A little on the hysterical side, perhaps, but waking up married wasn’t a usual situation so he could make allowances for her seeming a little highly strung. She was going to freak out when he told her that it wasn’t practical for them to separate and that he needed her cooperation. That sounded so much like he was taking a hostage...you won’t get hurt as long as you cooperate...he shook his head. He needed a better tactic. Maybe Brock was right and winning her over was as simple and devious as winning her heart.
So he had set to work, ticking off items from the list in his phone, to plan her perfect evening. Brandon had arranged for an intimate rooftop dinner by candlelight, a few romantic extras to entice her. He’d checked her social media to get a bead on what sort of music she liked and made sure the soundtrack of their evening was perfectly in line with her preferences. It wasn’t spying. It wasn’t manipulation. He was just personalizing their romantic evening. It was bespoke romance...only for the very discriminating bride and groom, in his opinion.
Or for the hair-tearingly desperate.
He’d even looked at her Pinterest boards. Good lord, women took those things seriously. She had about eleven thousand things pinned, mostly clothes and shirtless men—-at least her interests leaned toward him and his lifestyle—he was a man willing to remove his shirt and buy her clothes. He knew it was more complicated than that, but he flicked through her Dream Guy board for ideas of what he should wear. It was humiliating really, but he had to package himself for the utmost appeal. Marj was in marketing, so she’d appreciate the effort even if she didn’t (hopefully) realize he’d stalked her Dream Guy board in a most undignified manner. Too many pictures of that cowboy bastard Scott Eastwood, Brandon thought.