She set the note down, opened the envelope, and pulled out what looked like a letter.
“Oh my god,” she said, her eyes tracking the text. “It’s from Milton Spencer’s legal team. Confirmation of our buyout agreement, and he’s giving me the option of accelerating the timeline.”
“That’s great news.”
“It’s amazing news. It means I can buy him out now. But…” She trailed off as she kept reading.
I waited for a moment while she read.
She sucked in a breath and her eyelids fluttered.
“Is everything okay?”
“Yes,” she said, almost breathless. She touched her lips, her eyes still on the letter. “I can’t believe this.”
“What?”
“Milton amended his will. He’s leaving all his assets to the Thomas and Dorothia Whitbury Charitable Foundation.”
I sat up in bed, leaning on my forearm. “Cameron. Holy shit.”
“I know. This is… I don’t even know what to say. There’s a provision to begin distributions now, once a year until he passes. After that, the balance will be donated.” She looked up at me with tearful eyes. “Jude, this is unbelievable. It’s so much money.”
“That’s incredible. Did you have any idea he’d do this?”
“Not a clue. He never said anything that even hinted he might donate his wealth to charity.”
“Maybe he’s trying to make up for Bobby.”
She laughed. “Think of all the things we can do. Scholarship funds and desalinization plants to provide fresh water. Food distribution programs and domestic violence shelters. Education initiatives. Have you heard of that guy who invented a vessel that cleans plastic out of the ocean?”
“I don’t know, maybe?”
“The technology is genius. I’ll get him to build a hundred of them. Oh my god, Jude, I’m going to have to hire so many people to help me give all this money away.”
“Come here.”
She dropped the letter and dove at me. I wrapped my arms around her, hauling her on top of me. Holding her tight.
“I love you,” she whispered.
“I love you too, beautiful,” I said.
This woman. I was so proud of her. So in love with her. She was smart and sarcastic and stubborn and driven and so fucking incredible. I’d never really know how I got to be the lucky man who got to share his life with her. But I was. And I was going to spend the rest of my life by her side. Protecting her. Keeping her safe. Supporting her. And loving her with everything I had.
Epilogue
Cameron
The Ritz-Carlton ballroom was gorgeous—and packed with people. I’d briefly considered a beach wedding and small reception, but it had quickly become clear that Jude and I were either going to run off somewhere and elope—also something I’d briefly considered—or we were going to have a zillion people at our wedding.
Now that we were several hours into the reception, I was glad we’d opted for the zillion people. And for the Ritz-Carlton.
The entire population of Bluewater had turned out to watch me and Jude exchange wedding vows. The WWs, the tech geniuses, the bohemian artists, the retired and semi-retired business moguls—everyone.
A number of people I worked with were also in attendance, as were Jude’s parents, who’d flown in from Minnesota. They were nice and seemed happy for their son—if a little bewildered by the two of us. I got the feeling they knew enough about their son to be the tiniest bit afraid of him, even though I could see they were proud of him, too.
My best friends had stood with me as bridesmaids and their significant others had been Jude’s groomsmen. A fabulous wedding party for my dream wedding.
Everything about this day had been perfect. The weather had been lovely, the flowers beautiful, the food fantastic. My custom gown, designed by an up-and-coming designer who’d been a student in the Kid-Ovation program its first year, was more beautiful than I could have imagined. Jude looked unbelievable in his custom-tailored tux.
Although he looked amazing no matter what he wore. Or when he wore nothing, which was my favorite look on him.
And the eighties cover band we’d hired for the reception? Killing it.
I sat at a table with a half-eaten slice of the ten-tier wedding cake Nicholas had designed and baked for us. He’d surprised us with key lime filling on the bottom layer and I was considering doubling his salary just for that. He sat with Inda at a table nearby, her bare feet in his lap. He gave her a foot massage while she rested her hands on her pregnant belly. I could tell why people said pregnant women glowed. Inda looked amazing. I couldn’t wait to meet their little girl in a few months.
Jude came back to our table and handed me a glass of champagne. He’d taken off his jacket and his tie was loose around his neck, the top buttons of his shirt undone. He was so sexy and delicious, and I was starting to feel like it might be time for us to make our exit so we could get on to the next part of the wedding experience.
Or maybe we’d just duck into a closet somewhere.
He took my left hand and traced his thumb over my ring finger. We’d had a jeweler make a replica of the ring my grandma had worn. It was rose gold with a pale opal in the center, surrounded by a halo of diamonds.
“I like seeing this on you,” he said.
I knew the feeling. Ever since I’d slid Jude’s wedding band on his finger, I couldn’t stop looking at it.
“I’m just glad we have a way to get women to stop throwing themselves at you. Now everyone will know you’re taken.”
He grinned. “Getting territorial already?”
“Always. You’re mine.”
He reached over and grabbed me, scooping me into his lap. “That works out pretty well, because you’re fucking mine.”
Giggling, I draped my arm around his broad shoulders. The band started a new song, “Lady in Red,” and I glanced at the packed dance floor.
“You want to dance to this, don’t you?” he asked.
“So much. I love this song.”
“It’s a good thing you have so many other amazing qualities, because your taste in music is highly questionable.”
“Are you kidding me? This is a classic.”
He chuckled and we got up. He took my hand and led me to the dance floor.
I rested my head against his chest, and he put his arms around me. The lights twinkled, my best friends all slow-danced with the loves of their lives next to me, and the man I loved held me in a protective embrace. And I knew I was going to remember this moment for the rest of my life.
The song wound down and Jude kissed my forehead.
“What do you think? Time to make our escape?”
“Think we can sneak out?”
“I could get us out.” He winked. “But maybe we should do the goodbye thing.”
Jude signaled the wedding coordinator and she put the bride and groom exit plan into action. The band announced our impending departure, and everyone gathered to offer us a final goodbye.
Our friends, family, and loved ones all cheered as we waved goodbye. Daisy had smuggled in bubbles—her maternal side was so adorable—and they filled the air. We rushed out front, hand in hand, to our waiting limo.
The drive to Bluewater’s private airfield wasn’t far, but we made good use of the time, making out in the back like a couple of teenagers. The driver opened the door, but we were too busy pawing at each other to notice.
He cleared his throat. “Would you like me to circle around the runway for a while?”
Jude climbed off me and swiped the corner of his mouth. “That’s okay.”
I straightened my dress and he helped me up. Then we both climbed out of the car onto the airstrip where my private plane was waiting.
“Lovely wife,” Jude said, gesturing for me to walk up the steps ahead of him.
I picked up the bottom of my dress and made my way up the stairs and onto the plane. Our luggage was already packed and stowed on board. A post-wedding s
nack, complete with more champagne, awaited us.
The only thing missing was the pilot.
“Jude, we have a little problem.”
“No we don’t.” He closed and latched the outer door, then started cuffing his sleeves.
“What do you mean? We don’t have a pilot.”
One corner of his mouth hooked in a grin.
“What are you up to?” I asked.
Without a word—but with a mischievous look in his hazel eyes—he went up to the empty cockpit and sat in the captain’s seat. He motioned for me to sit next to him.
I sat down and followed his lead, buckling the seat belt. Then watched in awe as he slipped on the headset and started the pre-flight check.
“You know how to fly this?” I asked, putting the second headset on.
“Yep.”
“You just happened to know how to fly a plane.”
He didn’t answer, just winked.
“Where did you learn how to fly?”
“I’d tell you, but then I’d have to kill you. And considering I just married you, I’d like to keep you around.”
I shook my head, laughing softly. “You’re something else, Jude Ellis.”
“Are you ready for our next adventure?” he asked.
“Ready.”
I was more than ready. I was excited to start this new phase of our life together. To be his, body and soul, for the rest of my life.
The day I met Jude, I hadn’t thought I needed him. It turned out I couldn’t have been more wrong. I needed him more than anything. My partner. My friend. My husband. My love.
* * *
Would you like a peek into Cameron and Jude’s happily ever after? See where they are in ten years in a special bonus epilogue.
GIMME MY BONUS EPILOGUE
Want more Bluewater Billionaires?
Emily has a billion-dollar deal that’s falling apart and a naked stranger in her bathtub who says he can make all her problems disappear in Lucy Score’s The Price of Scandal.
Luna loses the public’s adoration after a corporate scandal and there’s only one man—a big, bearded dog-rescuing biker—who can help her save it all in Kathryn Nolan’s Wild Open Hearts.
Nightlife-loving Daisy is forced into the mom life when she inherits a baby… and the baby’s other broody, serious, sexy guardian in Pippa Grant’s Crazy for Loving You.
* * *
Curious about that scene with Cameron’s new hire, Everly Dalton, and her slightly rumpled billionaire boss, Shepherd Calloway? You can read Shepherd and Everly’s story in Faking Ms. Right: A Hot Romantic Comedy.
Keep reading for a preview of Faking Ms. Right!
Faking Ms. Right: Chapter 1
Everly
Call me weird, but I didn’t hate Monday mornings.
Every Monday was a fresh start. A chance to shake off the previous week—or in my case, the disastrous events of the weekend—and move forward.
I didn’t want to think about how many Mondays over the last several months I’d felt the need to put a bad first date behind me. But now wasn’t the time to ponder my terrible dating luck—even though it was pretty horrific. I’d dish to my girlfriends about it tonight. Over martinis, of course.
For now, I had work to do. And here, in this office, I wasn’t Everly Dalton, serial dating disaster. I was Everly Dalton, executive assistant. And I was damn good at my job.
“Good morning, Everly.”
I smiled at Nina, the front receptionist. “Good morning. I love your hair today.”
Her smile brightened. “Thank you.”
I walked down the hallway, smiling and greeting my coworkers. They all said hi and smiled in return. Even Leslie—who hated mornings more than anyone I knew—cracked a little grin over her coffee.
“Morning, sunshine,” Steve said. He was dressed in his usual plaid button-down shirt and brown cardigan. He wasn’t that much older than me—maybe five or six years—but his clothes made him look like a grandpa from the fifties. I was pretty sure that after work he changed into another cardigan that had a zipper, and probably brown slippers. But he was super nice.
“Morning, Steve,” I said. He liked to think he’d nicknamed me sunshine, but he was probably the tenth person to do so over the course of my life. Maybe it was because I wore so much yellow—my favorite color—or because I smiled a lot. His desk was near mine, just across the aisle, so we chatted pretty often. “How’s Millie?”
“I think I need to modify her diet again. I might eliminate fish to see if it helps improve her mood.”
Millie was Steve’s cat, and he was forever tweaking her diet, hoping it would make her be less of an asshole. I’d never had the heart to tell him that Millie was just an old cranky cat, and no special diet would ever make her nice. But it would have crushed him to hear that his cat hated him and probably wanted to murder his face.
“Sounds like a good plan. Keep me posted.”
“I sure will,” he said and went back to his desk.
Did I really want to hear all about Millie’s diet? Not particularly. But it made Steve happy to have someone who listened, so I endured a little bit of cat conversation now and then. I figured if more people made an effort to be friendly, the world would be a much better place.
The truth was, I liked making people happy. It was my catnip. Getting someone grouchy to smile? Best high ever. Like Leslie, Miss I-Hate-Mornings. She’d been resistant to my drive-by good mornings for a while. But eventually I’d worn her down. Stopping by with breakfast muffins and strong espresso a few times had done the trick.
Everyone had a chink in their armor—a place I could get in to find their happy side. Even the grumpiest people were no match for Everly Dalton’s sunshine.
Except one man.
Like a cloud passing in front of the sun, casting a dark shadow, a chill spread across the office. I glanced at the time. Eight twenty-seven. Right on time.
His entrance onto the floor created a ripple, like tossing a rock into still water. It radiated out ahead of him, warning everyone of his arrival. The only person I’d ever met who was impervious to my happy-making. My boss, Shepherd Calloway.
Steve looked up at me and winced. I pretended not to notice. I knew he felt sorry for me. Working for Mr. Calloway was not easy. He was cold, harsh, and demanding. He never said thank you, or gave any sort of praise. I’d lived in terror for the first few months I’d worked for him, positive he was going to fire me. He always seemed so angry.
But after a while, I realized that was just the way he was. He wasn’t angry at me. In fact, he barely noticed me. Sometimes I wondered whether he’d recognize me if he had to pick me out of a police lineup. He so rarely looked directly at my face that I wouldn’t have been surprised to learn he didn’t really know what I looked like.
I was pretty sure he knew my name, although he never called me Everly. He never called me anything, really. Just said what he needed to say, without addressing me first. No greetings. No goodbyes. Just, what’s on my calendar today? Or, send me the files before my meeting.
The ripple strengthened and I heard his footsteps over the sudden hushed silence on our floor. I stood, grabbed a stack of paperwork and his coffee—black, just like his heart—and waited.
He didn’t look at anyone as he walked down the hall toward his office. No side glances or nods at his employees. Just his steady gait—a man in a perfectly-tailored suit striding toward his office. His dark hair perfectly styled, his stubble perfectly trimmed.
Without so much as a glance in my direction, he walked past my desk. I fell in step behind him as the clock ticked over to eight twenty-eight.
I followed him into his office and set his coffee on his desk, six inches from the edge and slightly off-center, where he wouldn’t knock it over when he took off his jacket or bump it when he set down his laptop. I picked up a remote and opened the blinds, stopping them before they let in too much light. He took off his suit jacket, and I was there to take it and han
g it on the coat tree near the door.
“Good morning, Mr. Calloway,” I said, my voice bright.
He didn’t answer. He never did. Not once had he said good morning in return. But I still did it. Every single day. It was part of our routine, so it would have felt weird not to say it.
He sat and opened his laptop. Grabbed his coffee without looking for it and took a sip.
“Did the lawyer from Duggan and Nolan send over what I asked for?” His voice was smooth and even, without a hint of emotion. Everything he said was delivered in that same tone. People were terrified of Shepherd Calloway, but it wasn’t because he yelled. He didn’t get loud and berate people when they made mistakes. He froze them. His ice-blue eyes and low voice were more chilling than any tirade could have been. He was a man who could make your heart stop with a glare.
“Yep, no issues there.” I placed a thick manila envelope on the side of his desk.
He touched it with two fingers and shifted it up about an inch.
“I also have something for you from Mark in Accounting.” I set a file folder directly on top of the envelope, making sure the edges lined up nicely.
“Why didn’t he give it to me himself?” he asked.
Because everyone is afraid of you, so they come to my desk early and pretend they didn’t realize you wouldn’t be in your office yet. “I suppose because you weren’t in.”
He didn’t respond.
“You have meetings at ten, noon, and three.” I quickly flipped through his calendar—synced with mine—on my phone. “The noon is at McCormick and Schmick’s, and I already ordered for you. I moved your dentist appointment to next week because it was going to be too close to your three o’clock. I didn’t want you to have to rush. But check with me first before you schedule anything for next Tuesday afternoon, because we shouldn’t put that off again. Oral health is important.”
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