by Tee, Marian
Tilly couldn't believe what she was hearing. Harry hadn't done anything to either of these two, and yet Caryn and Lena were virtually cackling in glee as they started plotting how to ruin the other woman's life.
Witches. They really were witches, and with that thought in mind, she slid her phone out and quickly typed Heart's Match on Google's search bar before dropping the phone back into her apron pocket.
The one time Caryn had caught Tilly using her phone, the woman had slapped her in the face and yelled at her for being a 'lazy pig.' She had tried explaining that she was on her lunch break, but when it only seemed to enrage Caryn further, Tilly had realized she was only wasting her breath and simply chalked up the whole thing to experience.
Although Tilly's shift was supposed to end at six in the evening, it was almost a quarter to eight when she was finally able to leave the house, having had to prepare one last round of cocktails for Caryn and Lena.
Having already sent out a couple of feelers to various tabloids, the two had started drinking to their success, and the memory had Tilly mentally grimacing. Witches, she thought again, and as soon as she was out of the Hodges' home, she quickly took her phone out to see if Google had come up with any leads.
There were two relevant search results, and Tilly's brows furrowed at the rather deceptive difference between the two. One website was named Heart's Match and then another one was called Hearts' Match.
Hmm.
If she ended up sending a message to the wrong company, she also risked exposing sensitive information about the couple, which was what she was trying to prevent in the first place.
Plan B then.
After creating a new Facebook account, Tilly sent an anonymous message to Harry and crossed her fingers after hitting Send. Hopefully, the other woman would see it in time and nip Caryn's plans in the bud.
Tilly's younger sister already had their dinner heated and ready on the table by the time she got back home. "Mm. Smells good."
"It should, since you're the one who made it." A thoughtful expression flitted over Billie's face as she watched her sister kick her clogs off and wriggle her toes with a blissful sigh.
"Let me guess," Billie said knowingly. "Caryn bullied you again, didn't you?"
"Because I'm your older sister and I must set a good example, I'm going to lie and tell you, no, she did not bully me, and if she ever tried to do so, I absolutely would not stand for it."
Billie smirked. "But if you weren't my sister?"
"Then you'd be absolutely correct." Tilly made a face when her younger sister snickered. "You're supposed to feel sympathetic, you ungrateful brat. I'm only biting my tongue around her for you."
"Nuh uh. I told you I didn't have to go to school---"
Tilly let out a gasp of horror. "Mary Billie Jean! Are you saying you don't trust me to see you through until college?"
Billie rolled her eyes. "Quit the theatrics, sis."
"Then stop saying you're okay to quit school." She paused to feed herself a spoonful of mac & cheese before adding for good measure, "Ungrateful brat."
"Just saying."
"Anyway..." She briskly changed the subject. "Any good thing that happened in school today?"
"We're tackling Romeo & Juliet in Lit."
"Ooooh. Leo and Claire Danes. I love that movie."
Billie tried not to grin, but it was impossible. "Most people would think of Shakespeare first."
Tilly gazed at her sister in confusion. "Shake what?"
Billie laughed. "You're crazy, Tilly. You really are."
Only for you, Tilly thought even as she glowered and feigned outrage. She might not be able to give her sister the prettiest clothes or the coolest gadgets, but things she could afford, like love, care, and laughter, she made sure Billie had in abundance.
"...Tilly?"
She quickly refocused on her sister. "Sorry, what was that?"
"Is it okay if I sleep over at Mitch's tomorrow? We've got this project to finish by Monday."
"What's it about?"
"Capitalism."
"Wow. Back when I was in high school, capitalism was what Washington, D.C. was to America. Or - wait - is it New York now?"
"Will you please be serious?" Billie begged between giggles.
"I am being---" The sudden ringing of her phone cut Tilly off, and a groan escaped her when she saw the name that flashed on its screen.
"Who is it---" Billie took a peek at the caller's name and scowled. "Doesn't Caryn know you don't work for them 24/7?"
"She knows," Tilly answered with a sigh. "But she also knows I can't afford to say no. And it's not like I don't get paid for overtime."
"Doesn't matter," Billie grumbled. "I wish you were the one who married Mr. Hodge instead---"
"I don't think so." Tilly couldn't help cringing at the very idea.
"If you had---"
"I never would. For starters, he's totally not my type."
"So? It's not like he's Caryn's type either."
"He...could be." But as soon as the words were out, Tilly sent a prayer to the winds, hoping the heavens wouldn't strike her down for such a colossal lie.
Billie's gaze bored through hers. "He's decades older than her, Tilly."
Apparently, she had just sinned for nothing.
Tilly lifted her chin. "So? Numbers are nothing when you're in love."
"I respectfully disagree," Billie said loftily. "To women like Caryn, numbers are everything when they're the kind written on checks and bank balances."
"Mary Billie Jean!" Tilly shot her sister a look of reproof. "There's no pride to be found in being a jaded little smart-butt!"
Billie rolled her eyes. "I'm not going to turn into dust if you say the A-word, Tilly."
Tilly ignored this, saying, "You're thirteen, not eighty."
Billie opened her mouth to argue this, but when she saw Tilly glaring at her, the younger girl backed down with a sigh. "You win, big sis, but only because I don't want you to go back to work in a bad mood."
Tilly wasn't satisfied. "And?"
"And I promise---" To pretend, Billie coughed under her breath. "I still believe in unicorns, Santa Claus, and true love."
Tilly huffed in indignation. "I know you're making fun of me, but when you get older, you'll see," she grumbled. "The day will come you'll realize I was right: it's always better to lie to one's self. How do you think Caryn's able to sleep next to---oh dear. What am I saying?"
Billie burst into laughter, and the sound warmed Tilly's heart, just enough that it didn't hurt so much to leave her younger sister to lock up behind her as she took a cab back to the Hodges' gated community.
It was already half past two in the morning by the time she came back, and despite her best tiptoeing attempts, she still ended up waking Billie the moment she entered their bedroom.
"Is that you, Tilly?" the younger girl mumbled sleepily from her side of the bed.
"It's me," she whispered. "Sorry I woke you up." She quickly changed into her pajamas, and as she slipped under the covers, she heard Billie mumble about her giving something a try.
"Sorry, what was that?"
"Do...same thing...Caryn...did." Billie let out a yawn. "Find a rich old guy to fall in love with...and then all of our problems are solved."
"Billie..." She turned on her side to face the younger girl, but her sister was already fast asleep. Tillie flipped to her back with a sigh and stared sightlessly at their ceiling.
Find a rich old guy to fall in love with?
Her pride balked at the very idea, but then she thought about how fast time flew, and how at any moment Billie's medical condition, a complication caused by their mother's drinking habits during her pregnancy, could suffer a turn for the worse. If that happened, and they were still a long way from getting to the top of the recipient list for kidney transplants...what then?
Tilly bit her lip.
She didn't think she could ever marry for money alone, but what if...what if she found som
eone who would at least need her, someone who would respect her, and she could care for him in return?
* * *
"So...let me see if I got everything right." The female CEO of Heart's Match eyed the billionaire's
list of requirements for his mail-order bride. "You want someone you can trust to raise your nephew, someone who's guaranteed to see to all of his emotional needs and ensure that he doesn't grow up a spoiled, useless millennial like all other trust fund babies seem to be."
"Precisely."
"You also want someone who understands that you're used to a certain way of living and appreciate that it's this very busy lifestyle of yours that is able to afford you, your future wife, and nephew everything that money can buy."
"Exactly."
"Your fidelity is guaranteed provided you two are sexually compatible. If not, you promise to seek satisfaction through other means very discreetly while she will be additionally compensated to remain celibate until your nephew reaches eighteen years of age."
"Perfect," Logan said approvingly. "When can I expect to meet your candidate?"
"You mean 'paragon' right? Or maybe 'martyr' is a more accurate term?"
"Charlotte." His tone held a note of warning.
"But to answer your question, let me check my contacts in Heaven first. I'll need to see if they have an angel or saint to spare, since no one else is likely to agree to something so one-sided."
Logan didn't even crack a smile. "My nephew will be with me in six weeks."
"I know that, okay? And as much as I want to help you..." What you're asking for is something only a selfish, heartless asshole would demand. That was what Charlotte was dying to say, but because Logan was both her childhood friend and her late husband's, she managed to hold her tongue and finish with something more tactful. "It's going to be difficult."
"But not impossible."
Grrr. It was just so like Logan to interpret her words in the way that would benefit him. "I'll be level with you since you're my friend. With what you're asking, there can only be two kinds of women likely to agree to what you're asking."
Logan's gaze narrowed. "Go on."
"We'll either end up with a cold-blooded gold digger..."
The billionaire's upper lip curled in distaste.
"Or someone who comes with a lot of baggage."
Logan frowned. "Exactly what kind of baggage are we talking about?"
"No college degree, work history strictly in the domestic employment front, and she may come with a thirteen-year-old dependent who urgently needs to undergo kidney transplant surgery."
Since the things Charlotte mentioned were too specific to be random, Logan had a feeling his friend already had someone in mind. Someone she knew he would only consider if he were desperate enough...
"As long as she fits the mold," Logan said finally, "you can send her my way."
Chapter 2
It was already a few minutes past one in the morning when Hardwall Industries' corporate jet touched down at San Antonio International Airport, but a number of officials still insisted on waiting at the airfield, wanting to curry favor by welcoming Logan Hardwall in person.
They bowed and scraped as soon as he appeared, and the billionaire was showered with even more attention as he strode inside the airport. Female ground attendants giggled upon first sight of him, and as soon as he walked past them cellphones were up in the air, the women doing their best to capture the elusive bachelor in the background of their selfies.
Logan knew what was happening, of course, but he let it be. When his marketing team presented a report on how these occasional photos resulted into a healthier-than-usual bottom line, that was all that mattered for the self-made billionaire. Having to sacrifice a few moments of privacy was a small price to pay if it meant being able to keep his empire in the black.
It was a long drive back home, and as soon as the limo rolled up the driveway, Logan briefly reminded his chauffeur to get some rest the next day.
"Understood, Mr. Hardwall. Thank you, sir, and good night." Willy tipped his hat respectfully and waited until his billionaire boss disappeared behind the doors of the main house. He walked away, tired but content. Logan Hardwall might be a slavedriver to some, but one had little room to complain when the man worked twice as hard as everyone, and - more importantly - the billionaire was never stingy when it came to rewarding his employees.
Another good day at work, all in all, Willy thought, and the chauffeur started whistling, his mind already busy thinking of the things he could spend his bonus money on.
The billionaire had just taken his shirt off when someone knocked on his bedroom door. "Come in." Exhaustion made his voice irritable, and he wondered impatiently who in God's name would be idiotic enough to bother him at this time.
"Hello."
The voice was soft and feminine, and Logan instantly spun around.
Who the fuck---
"I, um, heard your car coming up the driveway."
Petite, raven-haired, and big-breasted, with the kind of face that would have casino security ask for ID even when she was in her thirties. She was exactly like her pictures, except for those eyes. They were too vividly bright, like she was brimming with life, her cup runneth full.
A feat in itself, Logan thought, considering what he knew of her past.
The silence inside his bedroom seemed to pulsate with tension, and that the billionaire also happened to be half-naked wasn't helping. It was extremely hard not to stare, and the more she saw, the harder it was to think straight. He was beautiful in a way that was both potently virile and sinfully sensual, with hair and eyes the shade of midnight, and sleek hard muscles that sinuously flexed under a layer of bronze.
Temptation incarnate, in other words, a man who was born to seduce and enslave women into surrendering to their most immoral desires...and she herself was proof of that, Tilly realized in jittery mortification.
Just looking at him made her ache all over, and her libido had never gotten out of control like this before. Her sex life might be a big fat zero and her V-card gathering dust for over a decade, but it didn't mean she was completely clueless. She had started touching herself since she was nineteen, and it had always been enough for her. Or at least it had been enough...until now.
He seemed to find her tolerable at least, Tilly tried to comfort herself by thinking. The billionaire had been looking his fill of her from the start and---
"You must be Tilly. "
The unexpectedness of his speech almost had her jumping, but she managed to keep herself still, daunted as she was by the stiffness of his tone and the taut outline of his tall, powerful figure. Intimidating as all of this was, none of it was able to make her immune to the inherent allure of the billionaire's darkly musical voice.
This was probably how Prince Charming's wicked twin would have sounded like, Tilly couldn't help thinking, with every syllable uttered rolling down into a deep, rugged symphony. Just one word from Logan Hardwall, and any princess would be putty in his hands, beguiled by the promise of cruel pleasure.
This man could hurt a woman so, so good. Really, really good, to the point that Tilly had half a mind to beg him for the same treatment. Oh, please, hurt me so, fuck me really hard---
WHOA!
Tilly gave herself a hard mental shake. Dirty thoughts had rarely ever crossed her mind, and she could only think of Logan's bare abs to blame. Just seeing all those inches of hard, golden expanse of skin...oh dear.
She was beginning to understand why a woman could take one look at a man and just have her heart go ooh la la.
Because shirtless Logan Hardwall?
OOH. LA. LAAAAAAA.
And then she noticed the billionaire staring at her pointedly, eyebrow arched in seeming askance. Are you just going to stand there and stare?
Shit.
"Sorry," she hastily apologized even as she valiantly staved off a telltale blush. "And yes I'm, um, Tilly, sir---"
"Logan." The bi
llionaire's tone was curt. "In private, you should call me Logan."
Oh.
Of course.
Logan.
In private.
Because, with the exclusion of a handful of people, the rest of the world remained unaware that she, Mathilda Wakefield, a nobody, was already married to Logan Hardwall, last billionaire bachelor standing of San Antonio's Finest Eligibles.
Somebody pinch her please, just to make sure she wasn't dreaming?
The first time Heart's Match had revealed her groom's name, Tilly hadn't wasted time looking him up on Google, and the results had been...incredible, to say the least. So much so she had even emailed customer support, asking if there could have been some kind of mix-up.
In less than an hour, she had her reply, and it was straight from the horse's mouth (or, in this case, the horse's owner, which was Heart's Match CEO Charlotte Carmichael).
No, you're not mistaken. It's indeed Logan Hardwall, the billionaire, and not Logan H. Walter, the insurance agent (not that there's anything wrong with that), who's your husband.
Suffice to say, finding out that her husband was one of the world's most sought-after bachelors had her walking in a daze for days, and it was only when Billie had been admitted to the hospital, with the little girl's name moved to the top of the recipient list, and all their medical expenses paid off by the billionaire - it was only then that it had really hit Tilly.
Logan Hardwall was for real.
And because she literally owed him for saving her sister's life, Tilly had sworn to herself then and there that she would be whatever he wanted to be.
So do what you came here to do, Wakefield.
She gave him a tentative smile. "Logan then."
Something flickered in the billionaire's eyes at the sound of his name on her lips, but Tilly completely missed this, embroiled at that moment in an inner struggle. That she was being so uncharacteristically timid was beginning to grate on her, but a part of Tilly also couldn't help thinking that was exactly how things should be.
Logan Hardwall might be her husband, but he was also the man that Billie's future depended on. If being with him meant a lifetime of walking on eggshells, and that was what he wanted, so be it.
