The Mail Order Billionaire (DC Billionaires Book 3)

by Eliza Ellis

  “Ah, of course.” He cleared his throat and straightened. “I didn’t receive one from your office—which I thought quite strange.”

  “Really? The science is never wrong. All the couples we’ve matched have found no need for a prenup.”

  He smirked. “I understand, but…I do have significant financial assets.”

  She stiffened and raised her chin. “As do I. I have no need for your money.”

  “But you’d like to protect yours, right?”

  He was a billionaire. She didn’t fear he’d try to get all her money in the divorce, because there wouldn’t be one. What would he need with her measly millions anyway? “There isn’t a need,” she said simply. “We won’t be divorcing.”

  He blinked.

  Deanna bit her lip and looked away. Was he already thinking of divorcing her? The thought that he wouldn’t want to stay married to her hadn’t crossed her mind. They were expertly matched—even if she was the one that did the matching.

  She stood and moved to her desk. She’d already read the prenup prior to meeting him. Reasonable requests and settlement amounts. Grace and Rita agreed what he planned to offer was fair, given his wealth. Deanna feigned like she was rereading the prenup while Maxim spoke.

  “My apologies. I suppose the prenup is more for my brother’s benefit than mine.”

  “Your brother? The king of Degonia?”

  “Exactly. Since we just met, he’d probably strip me of my title and lands if I didn’t have a signed prenup.” He laughed softly. “If…if we had to divorce, you will be protected.”

  She dropped the papers on the table. “You think it’ll come to that?”

  He stared at her evenly. “You are seriously considering this until death do us part? I thought you might want to stay married until that other doctor left you alone.”

  Deanna snorted and crossed her arms. “And how would it look if I ended up divorced—again. The D.C. Love Doctor’s algorithm works on everyone but her!” He cringed and frowned. Deanna stood before him. “You didn’t think this through, I believe. I…I’m planning on this being a…lifelong endeavor.” The word ‘lifelong’ was as difficult to hear as it was to say.

  The corners of his lips curved slightly upward. “You make it sound all business-like.”

  “No more than your prenup.”

  He nodded. “Point taken.”

  She scanned his face, his eyes unreadable. Their background check uncovered a playboy lifestyle that alarmed Deanna. How—and why—in the world did her algorithm match her to him? She was the complete opposite of casual. She couldn’t respect a guy who treated women like a buffet.

  But it didn’t matter. The science was never wrong. And she needed a husband before the clock struck midnight or she’d have pumpkin on her face. The D.C. Love Doctor who couldn’t find romance for herself. No, this was the right decision. The computer chose Maxim, and she was going to marry him.

  Deanna went back to the desk and picked up a pen. “I’ll sign it,” she said with a shrug of her shoulders. “If it makes you feel any better. Although I’m confident this will be the last time we ever see it.”

  “I’m sure you’re right.”

  She handed him the document. Without looking at the signature, he set it on the wide armrest to his side. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Other than that hiccup, Deanna had a good feeling about this. How insanely thick his beard looked; she wanted to run her hands through it. Was it soft or prickly? If it was prickly, he’d have to shave it off. Being kissed and stabbed at the same time was wholly unappealing.

  His legs tapped the outside of hers, and she jumped, realizing she’d been standing right in the middle of them. “Want to go have some fun?” he asked with a smirk.

  The mischievous look in his eyes caused her spine to shiver. “I know your idea of fun,” she blurted. She quickly sucked in her lips. That wasn’t supposed to come out. She had promised herself she’d leave any judgments about his character outside of their relationship. The science is always right. The science is always right.

  He cocked his head to one side, his gaze challenging. “Do you?” He leaned forward, his eyes level with her womb, although his hard gaze never left hers. “And what exactly do you know about me, Dr. Pearson?”

  Oh, no. They were off first names. This was going backward, not forward. Deanna swallowed. Her gaze shot to the small camera she had in the upper corner of her office behind the sofa. Rita and Grace likely had their faces glued to the observation monitor. If she knew the two of them, Grace was now shaking her head and covering her eyes, while Rita had thrown a folder of papers across the room and was swearing up a storm.

  If she didn’t salvage this, the two of them would be in here in five seconds.

  “We do a background check on everyone, just in case. You…you have a reputation.”

  His eyes softened with his Cheshire cat grin. “As do you. But I’d like to hear what you think of me—a man you know nothing about.”

  She arched her back and saw his gaze drop briefly before it was back on her eyes. What was he looking at? Her cheeks flamed. Was he checking her out like she did him?

  After clearing her throat, she said, “You’re no stranger to pools, hot tubs, and bikini-clad women.”

  He waited a few seconds. “That’s it?”

  “I like to be succinct.”

  “I can respect that.” He stood, and she had to step back before his face met her chest.

  She never should’ve worn these heels. She’d bought them the day before just for the talk show interview and could barely walk in them without tripping. Like she did when she stepped back. Her heel slipped on the slick-tiled floor. She saw her arms flail up past her face and then Maxim’s determined expression.

  His arms caught her and pulled her back upright and against his chest. Deanna sucked in a breath at the impact.

  “Are you okay?”

  Well, she was thoroughly mortified, but beyond that… “I’m fine, thank you.”

  His smile was brief. “You’re a good catch.” Deanna rolled her eyes, and he laughed. “Does your algorithm account for corniness?”

  “Not enough, apparently.”

  “Where’s your sense of humor?”

  “Tied down somewhere at the moment. As you can imagine, I’ve been…preoccupied.” With going through the data, finding a husband, arranging a last-minute marriage, and learning how to walk.

  “Of course, I understand.” His brows meshed, and he looked toward the ceiling. “Where were we?” His arms locked around her waist and—if it were possible—she found herself even more against him. “Ah, I remember.” His dark eyes latched on to hers. “You were telling me all about the bikini-clad women I like to hang out with.”

  Was she? Deanna’s tongue felt swollen, while the rest of her perspired. Did this guy have the temperature of a werewolf or what? The more she wiggled, the tighter his hold, like some devil’s knot meant to trap her against the hardest body she’d ever felt. Even the twinkle in his eyes mocked her progress.

  “Mmm, don’t stop,” he said in a husky voice.

  “Let me go!”

  “You’re going to be my wife. We should probably get used to holding each other. Especially since our wedding night is in”—he looked over her shoulder, probably at his watch—“ten and a half hours. If you don’t mind, I’ve booked us a very nice suite in one of my hotels. Not the cheesy honeymoon suite with the heart-shaped bed.” He grinned and chuckled. “But it does have a hot tub, so you might want to—no, wait, we’ll be married. Clothes aren’t required.” He winked and released her.

  “We…I think…we should talk about the…marriage bed.”

  “Hmm, marriage bed. Old-fashioned, don’t you think?”

  “Regardless, I…I’m not comfortable—”

  “Sleeping with a playboy.” He rubbed his chin as if ruminating. “I understand. My prowess precedes me. It’s been…how long since you’ve been
married?”

  She crossed her arms. Did he assume she hadn’t been with any man except her husband? She lifted her chin and turned away. Well, he had assumed right. When a man chokes you nearly to death in your bed, you kind of avoid sleeping with anyone else.

  “I don’t want to talk about my husband.”

  “Ex,” he said firmly. His eyes watched her with interest.

  “Right. Ex-husband.”

  “According to my background check”—he adjusted his perfectly positioned cufflinks—“you were married for a few years and then divorced. Your husband was arrested and put on a psychiatric hold for a few days. After that, the trail on him goes cold.”

  Good. A man like him didn’t need to be found. If he was only mental illness she could’ve stuck it out. Been the support system he needed. But he’d become an alcoholic as well, without any intention of helping himself. She had wanted to be as far away from him as possible, because she was sure she’d been the cause of the attack. The last she’d heard was he was in and out of a psychiatric hospital somewhere in New York. She’d gotten an emergency divorce and left him behind. Her parents had wanted her to press charges, but as long as he’d agreed to treatment and rehab, she’d let the matter drop.

  He never stuck to his side of the deal.

  Deanna cleared her throat. “I thought we were going to do something fun.” He stared at her evenly for a few seconds. Deanna swallowed. “I…I’m sorry I threw your extracurricular activities in your face,” she said softly.

  He shrugged. “They are the facts. You’re marrying a man you don’t know. You have a right to be concerned.”

  True.

  “You don’t have to apologize.” He cocked a half-grin. “As long as I don’t have to hear about it every time we’re in bed.”

  Deanna’s cheeks melted right off her face. She was cheekless. If he needed a reason to escape, he had a perfect one. “We should discuss the bed thing…”

  “Absolutely. But later.” He held out his hand. “Shall we?”

  Deanna rushed into her private office and shut the door. Her eyes spotted Rita sprawled across the sofa, fanning herself. A red-faced Grace sat in a chair with the iPad in her lap.

  Rita raised her head and grinned wickedly. “That was, literally, the hottest stuff I’ve seen in a long time.”

  “And that tripping over your shoes was very well-timed,” Grace added.

  “I didn’t plan it!” Deanna yelled.

  “Oh, come on. You can be real with us,” Rita said, sitting up. “You didn’t plan to rub yourself all over his—”

  “Where’s my purse,” Deanna said, whirling around, not seeing her bright yellow bag.

  “What are you going to do about the wedding night?” Grace asked, chewing on her nails.

  “What do you think she’s going to do?” Rita licked her lips. “I’ll find out where this hotel of his is and send you a basket of the skimpiest lingerie you’ve ever seen. Eat your heart out, Victoria’s Secret.”

  “Don’t you remember?” Grace posed the question to Rita. “She doesn’t need clothes.” She giggled.

  Deanna slung her purse over her shoulder and shook her head. “You two are supposed to be my friends.”

  “Friends don’t let friends mess up an opportunity with a hot prince,” Rita said.

  Grace nodded. “Think of how beautiful your children will be.”

  “How?” Deanna’s arms flapped down to her sides. “How am I supposed to think about that when we haven’t even had our first date?”

  “Trust the science,” Grace said gently.

  Deanna was really starting to hate that phrase. “I…”

  Rita frowned. “You can’t. Well, you don’t have a choice, do you?”

  Deanna shook her head. She didn’t. She had no choice. Either she’d prove her science was right again or eat humble pie.

  And she had worked too hard to eat pie yet.

  Besides, pie would bloat her up before the hot tub.

  Chapter 6

  He had hit the jackpot.

  Truly, this was probably going to be one of the best gambles he had made in his life. Marrying a doctor who had her own money and would likely let him do whatever he wanted.

  It was cute to watch her struggle in his embrace. She had been really uncomfortable, but it was because she was incredibly attracted to him. She’d practically fallen at his feet earlier. Either that or she was a klutz. Still adorable.

  The way her brown eyes had nearly bugged out of her head when he mentioned they would be sharing a bed as husband and wife had him on the brink of breaking composure. Of course he wouldn’t demand she’d do anything she was uncomfortable with, but she couldn’t expect their marriage to remain unconsummated.

  Admittedly, he had been shocked at her resolution to remain married for life. Maxim had figured as soon as his brother Novak relented about marrying Leonor, then he and Deanna would divorce and that would be it. By that time, Degonia’s economy would’ve bounced back thanks to Maxim’s investments.

  Maxim had considered some—okay, maybe a lot—of his money would have to be pumped into Degonia’s economy to smooth this marriage over with his brother. What he wondered was why Novak would still insist he marry Leonor. If money was all that Degonia required, then it was Maxim to the rescue. He and Deanna would be married by midnight, and his brother, the king, couldn’t do a thing about it. Leonor who?

  But the choice to choose a bride would always remain his. Maxim refused to let that be dictated by the Crown, even if his disobedience could be punishable by death.

  An old law still on the books in Degonia. But no monarch had followed through on it for centuries.

  He knew being titled would beat out all the other losers Deanna had considered—if she had considered anyone but him. That and his bank account. What was even better was how desperate she was to prove her science legitimate. Who cared? Was it really that important to her? He had read her journal entries, and they had intrigued him. Despite the higher-level math involved, he’d comprehended the basic gist. Her work had merit. But she was the D.C. Love Doctor on a reality television show. Her only challenge was some old, has-been psychologist whose name no one knew outside professional circles.

  What did she have to lose but a slice of her reputation? The numbers spoke for themselves. She was riding her endorsements to the bank.

  Maybe it had to do with her ex-husband. A man his private investigator was still searching for. The court documents had been sealed, but the investigator had managed to pull up the arrest report for domestic violence. Deanna had been physically hurt in the past, even though the claim had gone both ways.

  Maxims snorted. Although she was of average height and a touch on the curvier side, she could barely walk in heels. How could she hurt a man over six feet who weighed more than two hundred pounds? A head-scratcher, but Maxim would ask about it later.

  First, he had to get her to the altar.

  Then—if willing—the hot tub.

  After she was thoroughly swooned, he’d ask about all the dark corners of her closet. By then, she couldn’t divorce him or face a backlash.

  Maxim waited patiently out in the front lobby for Deanna to arrive so they could go shopping. Now that he had impressed her with his gym routine, she’d feel a lot better with some ice on her fingers and around her throat. Just wait until she sees the family jewels. Every girl wanted to be a princess with their own tiara. He’d give her both because he made dreams come true.

  The family jewels…

  Maxim checked his phone to remind him of the flight information and saw a message from his brother.

  We’ve received your itinerary. Would like you to return home tonight.

  Maxim flicked his tongue in frustration. Tonight. It would have to be after the wedding. He couldn’t risk landing in Degonia and being put in the tower until he agreed to marry Leonor.

  Maxim wrote a short message back. Putting my affairs in order. Should lift off no later than mid
night.

  He bit his lip and stared at the screen. Soon he saw the icon that his brother was typing.

  You have my permission.

  Maxim laughed out loud. Power had gone to Novak’s head. Or maybe the king was tired of his younger prince-of-a-brother dictating what he would do with his own life. Well, get used to it. He had come to America without approval. Stayed longer than the year the king had agreed too—once Maxim had landed. And now Maxim would bring home a bride and Novak couldn’t do a thing to stop it.

  Light footsteps diverted his attention. Deanna carefully walked across the shiny tile, a nervous smile on her face. Maxim allowed his gaze to travel the length of her form. She really was a beautiful woman. On par with Leonor and then some. Deanna didn’t have the air of a princess, but she’d soon learn—or Maxim would flee with her back to America so they could live their own lives.

  “Stunning,” he said. Deanna’s eyes went to the ceiling. She didn’t care much for compliments. Maybe she’d inherited that from her first marriage?

  Deanna’s eyes met his again, and her lips graciously smiled. “Thank you,” she said softly.

  He offered his arm, and she accepted. In a few minutes, they were settled in his car and driving.

  “Where are we going?” Deanna asked.

  “You’ll know soon enough.”

  She smirked. “I didn’t bring my bathing suit.”

  Maxim laughed. “That’s for tonight, remember?” Her eyes widened slightly, but she recovered with a dignified dismissal with a chin lift and looked away.

  Oh, yes, he’d forgotten to send a message for his larger plane to fuel up. Since they would be leaving immediately for Degonia, they’d have to enjoy the hot tub on the plane. He pulled out his cell and sent a swift text to his manager. Rose petals on the bed, an expensive bottle of champagne in an ice bucket, some gourmet cupcakes from a bakery in Georgetown and their night would be complete.

  Hmm. Maxim stole a glance at Deanna’s side profile. She kept her nose in the air and stared out the window. He supposed he could tell her at dinner that they would be taking an extended honeymoon in Degonia.