Betraying the Billionaire (Abbott Sisters)

by Victoria Davies

  His lip curled.

  “I’m sure Lillian will be right down,” John said, holding out a whiskey to him.

  “Thank you,” he said as he sat on the couch.

  “You know how women are,” John said as he took the chair opposite to him. “Lillian won’t be rushed.”

  “Must be nice to live on a schedule like that.”

  “Not quite like our days, eh?” John smiled as he saluted him.

  Julian took a sip of his whiskey in place of a reply. The due diligence he’d been conducting on the Abbotts didn’t paint John as a very hands-on CEO.

  Julian’s world, however, ran with pinpoint precision. He woke at the same time every morning. Spent an hour at the gym before his breakfast, which usually consisted of many cups of coffee. He was in the office every day before nine and usually didn’t leave till long after the sun had set.

  Time was precious. It was the one thing he couldn’t buy more of.

  Everything else has a price tag.

  He’d learned that young. Once you had some money in your bank account, all things became possible.

  Like a former guttersnipe marrying an upper Eastside princess.

  “How goes business, my boy?”

  His eyes narrowed. Since the engagement, John had become far more familiar than he preferred.

  He’s your future father-in-law. Suck it up.

  “Good. I think it will be a strong quarter. I’ve been preparing for the merger, of course. There are a number of matters we need to go over. I have some questions about the missing financial records we’re going to need.”

  “My accounting team is looking for them,” John said, unconcerned. “I’ll set up an appointment for the rest of it, though. Let’s do lunch next week.”

  He’d already tried that. John’s idea of a business lunch was ten minutes of shop talk and a very expensive meal on Julian’s dime.

  “I’ll come to the office,” he replied.

  John hesitated, his drink halfway to this mouth. “Of course. I’ll check my schedule for an opening.”

  He sipped his drink, keeping his face clear of any expression that would give his thoughts away. This wasn’t the first time John had been cagey around revealing his finances.

  What game is he playing?

  They were going to be family. More importantly, they were going to be business allies. He needed those documents.

  “What did you think of Lillian?” John asked in a clear bid to change the subject.

  As if I’ll forget my questions.

  But there was a time and place for everything.

  “She’s lovely,” he replied, allowing the talk of finances to drop.

  “She’ll make a good wife. The girl knows her duty.”

  Because that’s all this is to her?

  His barely stopped himself from frowning. He may have been the one to pursue this match, but he knew exactly what he was giving up by entering such a cold arrangement. What was Lillian’s excuse? Did she simply do whatever her father told her to?

  What made her agree to marry me?

  Yet another puzzle to be solved.

  “I thought you’d told me she didn’t have much to do with the company. Sounds like she works in your communications department.”

  John blinked. “I must have been unclear,” he said. “She works in a…hybrid role. Communications and sales.”

  He arched a brow. Those weren’t positions that usually went together.

  They probably send her out when they need a member of the family present and call it sales.

  “I’m sure she’ll have no issue giving up her career when you marry.”

  “Why would I want her to?”

  John’s face was a picture of surprise. “That is your decision,” he said when he recovered.

  Julian frowned. “Isn’t it hers?”

  Luckily, John was saved from having to backpedal as heels clicked loudly on the staircase.

  “Excuse me,” he said, setting his drink on the coffee table and straightening.

  Julian left the living room and strode into the entrance way with the grand staircase as Lillian came down.

  She paused halfway down the steps when she caught sight of him, a hint of uncertainty flying across her features. Glancing up at someone he couldn’t see, she rolled her shoulders back and continued down the stairs.

  He moved forward, unable to stay away, as she stopped on the last step.

  “Sorry I’m late,” she said, her gaze locking with his.

  My words.

  Some of the first he’d ever spoken to her.

  And just like that, his annoyance at her primping disappeared. This hadn’t been a socialite losing track of time. This was his fiancée making a point.

  “Busy day?” he said, trying to bite back his grin as he played his part.

  “Something like that.”

  He held out a hand to her. “Point taken.”

  “Good,” she said, confirming his suspicions.

  Her fingers slipped into his as she descended from the final step.

  “We’ve been waiting,” John said from behind him.

  Lillian’s gaze skittered away from his in an instant, her attention locked on her father.

  “So sorry,” she said.

  He couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard such an insincere apology.

  No love lost with these two.

  Not that he blamed her.

  “Let’s get going,” he suggested.

  “Please,” she replied, her eyes still on John.

  Putting a hand on her lower back, he guided her toward the door. But not before he noticed how she stiffened at the contact.

  Did she want this arrangement or didn’t she? Maybe tonight he’d find out more about the riddles his future wife posed.

  Chapter Four

  There was no ignoring the man at her back or the butterflies in her stomach.

  Butterflies. Screw that. More like rabid wasps.

  She tried to follow Sylvie’s advice and channel Lillian, but as much as she wanted to be able to pretend to be someone else, it was her on the date.

  There’d been a limo waiting for them when they’d left. Conversation on the drive to the restaurant had been stilted, at best. She racked her brain for the information she’d memorized on him. Her father had been very clear that she was supposed to charm this man. Agree with whatever his opinions were. Like what he liked. And do it all with a smile.

  A Stepford wife for the modern age.

  As if she’d ever let herself get locked into such a marriage.

  But Lillian might.

  A depressing idea through and through.

  “Hope you like La Province,” he said as they pulled to a stop in front of one of the swankiest restaurant in the city.

  Hate it.

  “Love it,” she lied. The restaurant was where the elite of the elite chose to dine, and while she’d been there a time or two in the past, restaurants as fancy as this were not her speed.

  Pretend not to notice the eyes. Choke down the beautiful, tasteless food. Act like the spotlight is my right.

  This wouldn’t defeat her.

  Silently, she stepped from the limo and headed for the front door.

  Julian greeted the maître d’ by name before he led them to a table near the back.

  She slipped into her chair, glancing around the busy dining room as she set her clutch down. Sure enough, more than a few pairs of eyes were turned toward her.

  Or more likely, him.

  Unconcerned, Julian perused his menu. Even if she wasn’t the main focus of attention, her stomach turned at having to eat before an audience.

  “Are you a red or white sort of girl?” Julian asked as he opened the wine list.

  He prefers a nice Pinot Noir, the older, the better.

  His food preferences had been an appendix in one of Lillian’s files. Her father had even quizzed her before the date.

  Can run the risk Julian getti
ng away. Then Father would have to actually work to turn the company around.

  She barely stopped herself from rolling her eyes.

  “Red. Do they have any Pinot Noir?” she said, hating the part she had to play.

  His gaze flicked to her. “In fact, they do.” Snapping the menu shut, he ordered a bottle from the waiting server.

  “Shouldn’t be much of a wait,” he said, turning his attention back to her.

  “How long do we have this time?”

  He smiled. “I cleared the whole evening. I’m sorry my schedule was tight the first time we met.”

  “Priorities,” she replied. “I get it.”

  He paused, midway through putting his napkin in his lap. “Shouldn’t you be a priority?”

  She shrugged. “If this were a normal arrangement, sure. But we both know it’s not.”

  He leaned forward, crossing his arms on the table. “What would a normal marriage look like to you?”

  Her breath escaped her in a huff. “Couldn’t we start out talking about the weather or something?”

  Julian grinned. “There’s a wedding in the not-too-distant future. Shouldn’t we make the most of the time we have now?”

  “Good point.”

  “So? Did your parents have a good marriage to use as a model?”

  She shook her head. “My mother died when I was little. I barely remember her. But from the stories I’ve heard, I don’t think it was a very happy union. She had the money, and he had the name.”

  “Ah,” he said. “And now history is repeating itself.”

  She looked away. Exactly. “I know how our world works. People don’t often marry for love when bank accounts are on the line.”

  “Why would we? Love can die. A binding merger of assets or companies can’t.”

  “Remember to engrave that on my wedding ring.”

  A chuckle escaped him. “You certainly have no trouble putting me in my place.”

  She bit her lip. “Sorry.”

  I’m supposed to be forgettable but also charming. Stop mocking him, or you’ll screw everything up.

  “Don’t be,” he replied. “I have no use for a mouse as a wife.”

  The words were like a knife in her chest. No, a man like him would never be happy with someone as quiet as she really was.

  Not that he’ll ever have to be.

  When Lillian came back, she’d be exactly what he wanted.

  For tonight, he’d just have to put up with an understudy.

  “Come on, tell me about your ideal marriage. Give me something to aim for.”

  She arched a brow. “I don’t think the sort of marriage I envisioned has any bearing on this arrangement.”

  “Try me.”

  Do I tell the truth or lie?

  But Lillian might have to marry this man if no rescue came for them. Deciding on the truth, she cleared her throat. “I always figured I’d meet someone in grad school and fall in love.”

  “You didn’t?”

  “I was pretty focused on my studies. Not much time for anything else.”

  His eyes roved over her once more before a frown crossed his face. “I find that hard to believe.”

  Fair point.

  Lillian had been the life of every party.

  “My goal was always to join the family business. I didn’t want to fail.”

  “I doubt failure is often a problem for you.”

  She shrugged. “I try.”

  The waiter arrived with their wine, pouring a tasting for Julian before filling both their glasses at his nod.

  “All right, once you fell for some fellow student, what was the plan?”

  “The usual,” she replied, sipping her wine. “We’d date, move in together, and when we decided we were ready, we’d take the next step.”

  “A society marriage full of glitz and glamour?”

  She laughed. “I’m more of a city hall kind of girl.”

  “Wouldn’t have been my bet.”

  “You’d be surprised. Why waste money on a single day, right? It’s the rest of our lives that matter.”

  He swirled his wine in his glass. “I agree.”

  “But as I said, I always knew I’d likely have to make a business match.”

  “Well, you didn’t run to the opposite side of the world when I proposed. I take that as a good sign.”

  If only you knew.

  “The companies come first,” she said.

  “At least that’s one thing we can agree on. This merger will impact a lot of lives for the better.”

  That’s the only reason I’m sitting here.

  Their waiter arrived to take their orders, and she chose something at random before handing her menu over. While the plates here were social media masterpieces, the taste never matched the visual impact.

  Once the waiter was gone, Julian reached for his wineglass. “How go the wedding plans?”

  “No idea.”

  Surprise lit his eyes. “Aren’t you involved with the planning?”

  The way a normal bride would be.

  She almost groaned aloud. Answering without thinking was dangerous tonight.

  “My father hired a wedding planner. I’m sure everything’s going smoothly,” she offered as an excuse.

  “Sounds good. I don’t really have any preferences. Other than the music.”

  She glanced up, seeing an opening. “What about a swing band? Liven things up a little.”

  A smile curved his lips. “That’s my favorite. Good idea.”

  I know.

  “I was thinking, vanilla cake is traditional but what if we change it to a dark chocolate base? Make it a little less bland.”

  “Chocolate is my Achilles’ heel,” he agreed. “Don’t tell anyone.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

  “There we go then. At least we know we’ll enjoy the cake and music.”

  Just not the vows.

  “Any preference on the dress? The planner has made a mess of my schedule, booking out so many fittings.”

  “I have no doubt you’ll be stunning in anything.”

  A sliver of pleasure pulsed through her. Did Lillian get compliments like this all the time?

  Lucky girl.

  Mentally, she ran through the file her father had given her, searching for any more tidbits to use. “What do you think about a honeymoon?” she said. “With the companies needing our attention, I figured we might not have much time away. We could do a quick trip to somewhere tropical if you like. I hear Aruba is beautiful.”

  “I’ve been twice. It’s a perfect pick. That’s very conscientious of you.”

  “No problem at all.”

  “Well, this is shaping up to be a better wedding than I’d hoped for. Thank you for thinking of these details.”

  “I like to be organized.”

  He tipped his head to the side as he watched her. “I can see that. Actually, I’m a little relieved.”

  “Oh?”

  “I was thinking we wouldn’t have anything to talk about, but finding so much common ground bodes well for the future.”

  A future where I smile and agree to whatever you like without an opinion of my own.

  Like hell she’d ever want to be in a relationship like that.

  “Yes, I hope it does,” she said forced out.

  Their food arrived, and she looked down at the elevated chicken roulade. With an internal sigh, she picked up her fork.

  “How’s yours?” he asked after she’d tried a bite.

  “Yummy,” she lied as she dutifully ate her food.

  Silence stretched, and she glanced up at her dining companion. He was studying her with an inscrutable look on his face.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Nothing. I was just thinking I don’t know much about you. Tell me something you like.”

  “Uh.” What did the file say? “I’m a big fan of foreign films. And I’m an avid supporter of the symphony.”

  “Me too,”
he said. “We can make that our second date. Or there’s a great little theater in midtown that brings in some interesting movies from around the world.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  But his gaze wasn’t wavering from hers.

  Dropping her focus to her plate, she tried to choke down some chicken, but being the center of his attention was putting her on edge.

  “How do you like the opera?”

  She smiled, reaching for her water glass. “Love it, of course. Who doesn’t?”

  “What’s your favorite?”

  “Um…” She racked her brain. “I think I’d have to say—”

  “La Traviata?”

  She froze as they said the words together.

  Julian set down his utensils and interlocked his fingers as he stared at her. “What a coincidence.”

  What little appetite she had faded away under his scrutiny. Her heart hammered in her ears.

  Caught red-handed.

  What was he going to do about it?

  …

  He watched his fiancée stare at him with wide eyes. Then under his gaze, she lifted her chin and set her fork down.

  Preparing for battle again?

  He was starting to realize she did that a lot.

  “I’m going to guess you love old cars and do the crossword every Sunday,” he said. “You probably also like baseball and collect old player cards. Tell me, sweetheart, boxers or briefs?”

  That blush he was growing used to rose to her cheeks again.

  “I assume you have a background check on me somewhere,” he said. “I should probably confess I looked into you, too.”

  “I figured,” she said, the words cool.

  “And you thought the quickest way to my heart would be to like what I liked?”

  Those expressive blue eyes rose back to his. “I was operating under the assumption that you didn’t have a heart.”

  He grinned. “True enough. But for the record, I don’t need a yes-man for a wife. I get enough of that in the office.”

  There was a beat of silence before she folded her hands calmly in her lap. “I hate baseball,” she said. “Almost as much as I hate being on display in this restaurant. I do, however, complete the Times crossword every Sunday. In pen. And I’ve always been a boxers girl, myself.”

  There you are.

  “Excellent.” He threw down his napkin and stood.