The Billionaire's Email-Order Bride

by Vivi Holt

  “Sorry, I didn’t make the dessert,” he said.

  She laughed. “If you’d made cheesecake as well, I’d have married you all over again.” She blushed at her own words.

  His eyes darkened, and he reached for her hand. “Would you anyway?”

  Her thoughts skidded to a halt. She couldn’t think, couldn’t speak, with him holding her hand and looking at her that way. Her cheeks burned, and her heart thundered against her ribcage.

  “What?”

  “Would you marry me again? Even though I didn’t make the cheesecake?” he clarified.

  She frowned. “What…I thought you didn’t want that. You walked away, you left.”

  John smiled and stood to his feet. He pulled her up against him, wrapping his arms around her. “Let’s dance,” he said.

  When he released her, he kept hold of one of her hands and led her into the living room. Music drifted softly from the sound system, and he pulled her close, then led her in time to the beat of the melody.

  Her cheek pressed up against his chest and she could hear the steady rhythm of his heart. It felt good to be there, tucked up beneath his chin, her body pressed to his. Safe. Secure. Right.

  She looked up into his eyes. “How’s the building going? You know, where Pickles used to be…”

  He sighed. “We’re ready to put in the foundations, but it’ll be a long process. It’s the most important part of building a high-rise, so it’ll be a while before you see much progress.”

  “And the restaurant?”

  Another sigh. “I don’t know, Eve. Are you trying to pick a fight? Because I’m doing everything I can to mend what’s broken between us, and you’re dredging up old wounds.”

  She stepped away from him. “Is that what you’re doing, trying to fix us?”

  He nodded, his eyes narrow with hurt. “Yes. I don’t want you to go back to Brisbane. I want you to stay here. With me, as my wife.” He strode over to the sideboard, opened a drawer, and pulled out a small, square box. When he opened it, she saw the glimmer of refracted light, then it was gone as he closed his hand around the object.

  She inhaled a deep breath. “Really?”

  “Yes, and not just because of some stupid contract. I had my lawyer take care of that already. It’s done, gone. I want you to stay because you want to stay. I love you.” He raised a palm toward her, and she saw her abandoned engagement ring, along with the gold band she’d worn since the day of their wedding all those months ago.

  Her breath caught in her throat, and tears flooded into her eyes. “I love you too.”

  “Then stay,” he whispered, pushing both rings, one by one, onto her left ring finger, then combing a strand of hair gently behind her ear with his fingertip.

  She stepped closer to him until the warmth of his body drew her in. His arms enveloped her, and she stood on the tips of her toes to kiss him. His lips were warm, inviting but demanding at the same time. This wasn’t the gentle kiss they’d shared so long ago, this kiss wanted more.

  He loved her. The words rang in her ears. And she loved him. It was everything she’d wanted to hear, without even realizing it. It washed all the other choices away. New York could wait. Brisbane was no longer her home. Here, with John, that’s where she longed to be, had to be. She couldn’t bear the thought of following any other path. Her arms looped around his neck and her hands crept up to cup the back of his head. She deepened the kiss with a soft groan, and he grinned against her lips.

  “So, Mrs. Russo, is that a yes?”

  Chapter 25

  Eve stared at the charred remains of the restaurant fire. Not much was left, only some burned shrubbery that had been bulldozed to one side. Machinery growled in the background, working hard at digging an enormous hole where Pickles used to stand. She stood on a mound of dirt several feet away from a tall fence that surrounded the construction site.

  The entire building was gone. It was nothing but a memory and a whiff of smoke.

  She sniffled and wiped her nose with a Kleenex. It’d been more emotional than she’d thought it would be to visit the site where she’d almost died.

  “Eve!”

  She spun about to see Petra shuffling toward her. She wore a long, colorful dress that dragged across the dirt, and a scarf around her head in mismatched colors. Petra climbed the dirt pile halfway, then reached out a hand and Eve pulled her the rest of the way.

  “Hi Petra,” she embraced her friend. “It’s good to see you.”

  “I wasn’t expecting to find you here,” said Petra. She waved at the diggers, puffing from the climb. “What do you think of this, huh?”

  She shrugged. “It’s progress they tell me.”

  Petra grunted. “Still, it is mesmerizing.”

  Eve nodded.

  “I’m moving,” stated Petra with a wave of her hand.

  Eve studied her. “Where to?”

  “New Orleans. I’ve always wanted to go there, but this place…”

  “You couldn’t leave.”

  “No. I couldn’t leave. And now I can. Plus, I got the insurance payout. Seems there was a gas leak.”

  Eve arched an eyebrow. “Wow, that’s great, Petra. I’m glad you get something out of this whole mess. What about the others?”

  “They’ve moved on. Everyone is fine. You don’t need to worry about us.”

  Petra faced her and rested one hand on Eve’s shoulder. She looked her square in the eye and smiled so that the corners of her eyes crinkled. “Don’t be too hard on him, okay? Life’s too short for that.”

  Then Petra slid down the side of the dirt with a few easy steps and strode off in the direction of the street. Eve watched her leave, saw her get in her old, beat-up Ford, and drive away, honking madly at the traffic to let her merge.

  She laughed and ran a hand over her ponytail.

  A figure on the other side of the construction site waved at her. She squinted over the fence that protected the site from the street, then waved back.

  It was John, wearing a yellow hard hat. He hurried toward her as she slowly climbed down the dirt pile to meet him. Halfway down, she stumbled and fell on her rear end then stood up and brushed herself off.

  He met her at the bottom with a grin, kissing her softly on the lips and tugging the hat from his head to set on the ground. “What are you doing?”

  She shrugged as her heart thudded. “I just wanted to take a look.”

  “I know it doesn’t look much yet…”

  “No, but it will one day. I get it. Don’t worry, I’m not going to flip out.”

  “Was that Petra?” he asked, staring off into the distance after her.

  “Yes. She’s moving to New Orleans.”

  “Oh.” He studied the ground in between them.

  “It’s a good thing. I think she’s fulfilling a dream or something.”

  His smile returned. “Well…good.”

  “Yes, it is good.” She returned his smile, her pulse racing. Since he told her he loved her she hadn’t been able to think about much else. It had been so unexpected; she kept thinking he’d take it back. But, so far, he’d been nothing but warm, kind, and loving.

  She could get used to this.

  “Oh, there’s something I wanted to talk to you about,” he began.

  She quirked an eyebrow.

  “This building is going to have a restaurant on the first floor. And, I thought you might like to run it.” He watched her closely, his eyes twinkling.

  She frowned. “You want me to run your restaurant?”

  His head cocked to one side. “Well, I figured you probably want a job of some kind, and this building will be so close to home. Plus, I’d let you have a completely free rein. You could decide on the theme, décor, menu…all of it. It’d be completely up to you. One of the benefits of being married to the boss.”

  She grinned. “Really? Wow, that would be amazing.”

  His smile widened. “You’ll do it?”

  She threw her arms around
his neck, and he spun her in a circle as their lips met. His kiss took her breath away and the world around them faded into the distance. She couldn’t believe she could be so lucky as to find a man who understood her so well and cared about her so much.

  He set her feet down on the ground, his arms still wrapped around her waist. “So, you haven’t changed your mind then?”

  She shook her head. “No. I haven’t. Have you?”

  His head shook slowly from side to side.

  “So, we’re really married.”

  “Really married,” he confirmed.

  Side by side, he walked her back in the direction of the apartment. “So,” he began, linking his fingers through hers. “There are a few other benefits to being married, that we’ve never really explored before.”

  A shiver of anticipation ran through her body. “Do tell.”

  He grinned and they both broke into a jog, headed for the home that they shared and the master suite that would no longer be just his, but hers as well.

  Epilogue

  “We’ll clean up, Chef. You should go home,” called Sarah from behind the kitchen counter.

  Eve smiled and untied the apron from around her waist with a sigh. “If you really think so…”

  “We’ve got this. Go home. Celebrate your anniversary with that hot husband of yours.” Sarah winked and reached for a half-full pan.

  “Okay.” Eve flipped the apron into a hamper full of dirty cloths, towels, and aprons then hurried toward her office.

  It wasn’t really their anniversary, but it was two years since they’d both decided to make their marriage a real one rather than an arrangement. And in the spirit of celebrating the good things in life, they’d agreed to mark both occasions, only one month apart. It worked for her since it meant she got spoiled twice per year, not including her birthday or Christmas.

  The air outside was warm. She’d taken the top down on her convertible to enjoy the balmy night. Cars honked in the distance and she frowned. It was late, but this was Atlanta—there was always traffic on the streets.

  The drive home was a short one and she’d already begun getting familiar with it all over again. The building and the restaurant had only been officially open for a few weeks, but she loved it immediately.

  She’d called the restaurant “Eve’s” at John’s suggestion, and hoped no one would think it too self-aggrandizing, but so far, the moniker seemed to match the establishment well enough. She’d already had positive write ups of the grand opening in the press, though she couldn’t be entirely sure John hadn’t had something do to with that.

  In front of the apartment building, she climbed from the car and handed her keys to a valet, who tipped his hat and wished her a good evening. She smiled and skipped into the building, then rode the elevator humming all the way up to the penthouse. She wondered what John had in store for her since he always went a little bit over the top with anniversary celebrations.

  Inside the apartment, she scanned the room, looking for a lavish display of balloons, or a string quartet, a grin on her face. But her smile soon faded when she found nothing but an empty apartment.

  “Hello?” she called, already beginning to pout a little.

  Where was he? She’d expected him to be waiting there, ready to greet her.

  “John?”

  Still no response. She wandered into the kitchen—no sign of him there. Then the bedroom, where she found him lying on the bed watching Sports Center. Had they officially become an old married couple already?

  He smiled and muted the volume with the remote, still not moving from his place on the bed. “Hi, honey. How was your day?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “It was fine, thanks. How about yours?”

  “Good.” He flicked through a few channels, one leg crossed over the other and looking as though he had no intention of getting up.

  “Um…are you forgetting something?” she asked.

  He quirked an eyebrow. “Hmmm…I might be.”

  “Our anniversary?” She set her hands on her hips and glared at him.

  He chuckled, then crawled across the comforter toward her. When he reached her, he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her passionately on the lips.

  “Now, why would you think I could ever forget the day you made me the happiest man in the world?”

  A faint smile edged across her mouth. “So…what should we do to celebrate?”

  “I know we usually go out or fly somewhere amazing.”

  “Uh huh.” Where was he going with this?

  He stepped off the bed and over to the bathroom, where he pushed open the door with one fingertip. Inside the room, the bath had been run, red rose petals decorated the floor and tub, candles flickered against the white tiles, and soft music played.

  “I thought, since we’ve been so busy lately, with the restaurant opening and my trip to Brussels, maybe we could stay in. Just the two of us.”

  Her smile widened. “That sounds perfect.”

  She walked over to the bathroom and peered inside. Plates of sushi and dumplings sat on the floor by the bath tub, along with a bottle of sake and another of sparkling water.

  “Sushi! My favorite!” she cried.

  He laughed. “I know.”

  She wound her arms around his neck and stared into his green eyes. “I like your way of thinking, husband.”

  He kissed the tip of her nose. “Is this okay? Really?”

  His grip around her waist tightened and her body pressed to his as she sighed happily against his lips.

  She nodded. “It’s perfect. All I need is you.”

  “Right back at you,” he whispered, as his lips closed on hers.

  Keep reading…

  THE BILLIONAIRE’S EMAIL-ORDER WIFE

  Read on for an excerpt from the next book in this series, The Billionaire’s Email-Order Wife. Or buy it now.

  MAKE-BELIEVE FIANCE

  Read on for an excerpt from the first book in the Make-Believe series by the same author, Make-Believe Fiancé. Or, buy it now.

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  The Lift, a short love story.

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  Excerpt: The Billionaire’s Email-Order Wife

  Chapter One

  Ocilla, Georgia

  August

  “You need to take a seat right here, girl, and get that hair styled.” Momma Boulin’s full lips pulled into a smile. Her heavily made up face had barely a wrinkle on it, even though Cassidy Hancock had known the woman for the entirety of her thirty-year existence. So, she had to be at least fifty years old, maybe more. She didn’t know why the local stylist was known by the entire town as Momma, but she was.

  No one knew how old Momma Boulin was. And she always laughed at any questions about her age, her eyes sparkling. She’d say, “I’ll never tell.”

  Cassidy sighed and sank into the black, faux leather chair. “I really don’t have the time, or the money—”

  Momma Boulin’s brow furrowed. “Don’t you worry about that, darlin’, I’ll take care of you. You’ve had enough to deal with lately, and your hair is lookin’ more neglected than I’ve ever seen it, and I’ve seen it pretty bad.” Her eyes narrowed as she picked at stray strands of Cassidy’s hair, her lips pursed.

  “Well, thank you Momma. Just do your magic, and I’m going to sit here with my eyes closed. If you hear me snore, don’t feel bad. It’s the only way I get any sleep these days, sitting upright in a chair when I’m supposed to be doing something else.” She chuckled to herself, her eyes already pressed shut so she couldn’t see the look on Momma Boulin’s face. It’d be pity, or disapproval, one of the two.

  That was how everyone looked at her these days, and she couldn’t bear another moment of it. Not right now anyway. All she wanted was to crawl into a dark hole, hidden away from everyone and everything and sleep for days, maybe even months. There was no telling how long it’d ta
ke her to recover.

  The expected retort from Momma, a woman always ready with a whip-like wit, never came. She opened her eyes a smidgeon just to make sure the hairdresser was still there, just as the woman’s thick fingers pressed against her scalp. The massage unlocked something deep within her and she exhaled slowly, feeling peace wash over her for the first time in months, maybe even years.

  “Wow, that is amazing. I’ve always said you have a magical touch, and it’s truer today than ever before.”

  Momma Boulin grunted in response and Cassidy lay her head back, eyes squeezed shut, and the hint of a smile on her lips. This was exactly how she should spend the day.

  It was the first day of school. The summer was finally over, and her three children were currently ensconced in their classrooms, and officially someone else’s problem for the next five hours. Even the thought of returning to pick them up made her heart race, so she pushed the image of the line of cars idling in the pickup line out of her mind and focused on the delicious sensation of Momma Boulin’s strong hands massaging warm shampoo into her scalp.

  “You figured out whether to sell the house or not yet?” asked Momma, her hands leaving Cassidy’s head for a moment, then returning with a towel to pat her hair dry.

  Cassidy straightened in the chair, her eyes blinking open. “We have to sell. I wish we didn’t… but the medical bills have been piling up for three years. We’ll move in with Mom and Dad for now.”

  “You and three kids over at Tom and Laura’s tiny little place?” Momma Boulin made a honking sound that sent heads throughout the salon jerking in their direction. “That’s gonna be downright cozy.”

  Cassidy arched an eyebrow. “That’s an understatement.”

  Momma stood in front of her, rubbing the towel over Cassidy’s head and obscuring her vision for a few moments. “You know what you need?”