Wanted: Billionaire's Wife
Danica was no stranger to Luke’s moods. He could be cold, dictatorial even, when people tried to cross him. But when the discussions were reasonable or philosophical, he was thoughtful, witty even. In their bed, he could be tender—so tender it caused her heart to ache with a longing she didn’t dare dwell on.
Right now he looked bruised. She never thought Luke could be hurt by others, much less his own parents. She couldn’t imagine not cherishing family and being cherished by them in return. The realization punctured her heart.
“I want to go to lunch with you.”
He blinked. She felt a momentary burst of pride. It took a lot to surprise him.
“No, you don’t.” His tone was final.
“Yes, I do.” No, she didn’t. She was scared spitless. And it meant canceling her appointment to look at a promising commercial real-estate site for her agency. But his parents were another piece to the puzzle that was Luke.
“Are you sure? The reason for the lunch is they heard about the marriage.” He grimaced. “Not from me.”
“You didn’t—” Her mouth snapped shut and she took three deep breaths. “Why wouldn’t you tell them about me? It’s not like it’s a real marriage.”
“It’s not that. I didn’t tell them because...” He shrugged. “Because in the bigger scheme, they didn’t need to know.”
She silently counted to ten. “Of course, they need to know if you’re married! You’re their son.”
“The only concerns my parents have about my marriage are how much value you bring to the family coffers and/or how much it will take to buy you off when necessary. I was hoping to avoid the confrontation.”
Now it was her turn to blink. “You’re kidding.”
“No. You sure you want to come to lunch?” He obviously expected her to say no.
He forgot she was the one who bet all her money on a turn of the roulette wheel. “I need to meet them at some point. After all, we’re married, even if there is an expiration date.”
“It’s your funeral.”
“Oh, come on.” She smoothed faint wrinkles from the shoulders of his shirt. “It can’t be that bad.”
* * *
It was, exactly, that bad. Danica and Luke arrived at the upscale bistro at one o’clock on the dot, thanks to Luke’s sports car. She gripped the armrest the entire way as he sped along the twisty mountain roads he took to avoid the traffic on the freeways. She was still recovering from the last switchback he took while overtaking another vehicle.
“Feeling better?” Luke asked.
“Save your concern for the driver of the minivan we passed. I think you took ten years off that man’s life.” She smoothed back escaped tendrils of hair. They bounced back to framing her face as soon as her hand fell to her side. Luke reached out and twisted a curl around his finger.
“I prefer it down.” The rumble of his voice and the stroke of his thumb on her cheek nearly took her knees out. Luckily for her, the hostess returned with a wide smile on her face.
“I’ll take you to the rest of your party.” The hostess beckoned, and Luke reached out for Danica’s hand without looking at her. The automatic gesture caused her to smile. She was still smiling when they arrived at the secluded patio table set for four. Two of the chairs were occupied, but the occupants were busy staring at their phones.
Luke cleared his throat. His grip on her hand tightened.
The older man, who had to be Luke’s father, looked up. “Well, hello there! Glad to see both of you,” he said with a cheery smile. “I’m Jonathan.”
“This is—” Luke began.
“We know who she is,” the older woman said, still staring at her phone. “Just not from you.” Luke’s mother was blonde and fair skinned, but Danica couldn’t discern any other distinguishing features thanks to the oversize sunglasses dominating her face.
“This is Danica,” Luke finished. “Danica, my parents. Jonathan Dallas and Phoebe Ailes.” He tightened his grip on her hand. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he breathed into her ear.
Danica nudged him sharply with her elbow and then removed her hand to hold it out to his mother. “Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Ailes.”