Billionaire's Unexpected Bride (Slade Brothers Book 1)

by Alexis Winter

  “Well, Ms. Teller, let’s go into the house, shall we?” I hold up my arm, motioning toward the door.

  She nods, her smile returning as she starts toward the house. On our short walk, I have to make an effort to keep my eyes off of her ass. I fail several times, but luckily, she never catches me. I know most men would be excited about working with a beautiful woman, but I’m not most men. I’m not looking for a relationship. I’m not looking for a random hookup, either. I want no distractions when it comes to this expansion, and unfortunately, she’s going to be a major fucking distraction whether she realizes it or not.

  I reach out and open the door for her, and she thanks me as she steps into the house. I lead her into the kitchen. “Have a seat,” I say as I move around the island and pour two glasses of whiskey. I walk back over to her and set a glass on the table in front of her.

  “Oh, no thank you. I don’t drink much.” She waves her hand in my direction, dismissing the thought.

  I laugh as I pull out my chair and sit at her side. “Ms. Teller, you said you wanted a business meeting. Here in the country, our business meetings involve a stiff drink. Now, how badly do you want this meeting?” I ask, toying with her. Obviously, I won’t force her to drink it, but this is a little test. How badly does she want this job? What will she do for me if asked?

  Her green eyes move to the glass. She picks it up, swirling the liquid as she talks herself into it. Finally, she moves the glass to her lips and takes the smallest of sips. I watch as she swallows it down. Her hand moves to her throat as she blows out a long breath. “Please, call me Celeste.”

  A smile covers my face as I tip my glass, throwing back the liquid. “All right, let’s get down to business.” There’s a cardboard tube sitting on the table in front of us. I pick it up, open it, and pull out the rolled-up blueprints. “Here are the plans we’ve drawn up.”

  “I was wanting to ask you: is there a reason why you want this expansion built over on the far corner? It seems to me like you’d have an easier time if you cut your parking lot in half.”

  “I see you and Mr. Burns think alike,” I laugh out. “The answer to that is: I don’t want to. This land is mine, and I want to be able to use it how I see fit. I don’t farm it. Right now, that land isn’t doing anything but costing me money. I don’t like things that cost me money. I want things to make me money. The only way that land is going to make money is if it’s put to use. Plus, I plan on expanding the brewery once I have this new location up and running for whiskey. I have to make more beer to recoup my losses, since we’ve had to slow down production on account of the whiskey. Once the whiskey side of things is done and in production, the brewery side will also need to expand in order to double production numbers. After a year of doubling production, it’ll be like we never slowed down to begin with.”

  “You do realize that this expansion will require some effort on your part, correct?” she asks.

  “On my part? I’m not the lawyer here, Ms. Teller.” I shake my head as I toy with the glass in front of me.

  “I understand that, Mr. Slade.” She says my name with annoyance. “But you’re basically asking this town and its people for a favor. ‘Let me build a distillery,’ right? But I’ve been told you’re not on good terms with the town. How can you expect people to do this favor for you if you won’t put in any work when it comes to maintaining—or even fixing—these relationships?”

  I sit back and massage my temples. “God, you sound like my advisor.”

  “I’d say your advisor is a smart man, Mr. Slade.” There’s that tone again—the one she uses whenever she says my name.

  “Why are you saying my name like that?” I ask.

  She shrugs. “Why do you insist on calling me ‘Ms. Teller’? I’ve told you to call me Celeste.”

  “It’s a sign of respect. You wanted a business meeting. I’m keeping things professional.”

  “You’re doing it to spite me. And saying it’s out of respect is just insulting. Might as well say I’m too stupid to understand.” She arches one of her perfectly manicured eyebrows. The look she’s giving me is nothing short of bratty. She’s a spoiled little girl who’s far too used to getting her way. I could use this to my advantage if I could only make her see that it won’t work on me.

  I laugh as I pick up my drink and finish it off. I swallow down all my issues and nod. “Forgive me, Celeste.” I breathe out the words like an admission of guilt.

  “I feel like I need to tell you who I am, Mr. Slade,” she says clasping her hands together on the table as her eyes focus on mine.

  I don’t reply, only motion for her to carry on.

  “I know what you must think of me: that I’m just some city girl who doesn’t know her ass from a hole in the ground, but that isn’t true. I’m a top lawyer at my firm in L.A. I was valedictorian of my high school and college graduating classes. I’ve worked for this my entire life. I’ve never lost a case, and I don’t plan on starting now. When this job is complete in a year’s time, I’m going back to L.A., where I will be rewarded for all my hard work with more perks than any other lawyer at my firm has ever seen—besides the partners, of course—and I will not let you get in the way of that. I will do this job. You can either work beside me, or you can fight me, but it will get it done, because I refuse to lose. Especially due to your chauvinistic ideas about what a woman can and cannot do. You can make this next year a total headache for the both of us, or you can accept that I’m what you’ve got, so we can get some work done. The choice is up to you.” Her brows are arched high and her eyes are wide, but not with fear. With determination. She really believes that she can get this job done.

  “I won’t get in your way, Celeste, but I feel like I should warn you about myself. It’s only fair.”

  She nods once, telling me to continue.

  “I do not have ‘chauvinistic ideas’ about where women belong or what they can do. But I will tell you that I won’t treat you any better because you’re a woman. If you piss me off, I’ll let you know even if it hurts your feelings. I expect everything I ask of you to get done in a timely manner and to get done correctly. I will not take it easier on you just because of what you’ve got between your legs. You want this job, you’ve got it. But it will not be any easier for you than it would be for any man—which is why I assume you’re here. I’m guessing your boss got wind that this whole thing would go much more smoothly if they sent some pretty woman—that I wouldn’t give you as much trouble as I gave Burns. But that, Celeste, is incorrect. If I’m paying for something, I want it to be exactly what I asked for. I will not change my mind. I will not compromise. It’s my way or the highway. Got it?”

  She presses her lips together tightly as she thinks it over. Finally she holds out her hand to shake. “Deal,” she says.

  “Deal,” I agree, finally touching her for the first time. The moment my hand comes in contact with hers, a spark shoots through me, my heart skips a beat, my lungs momentarily freeze, and my blood boils beneath my skin.

  I notice her chest rise as she takes in a large gulp of air and her thick lips part like she’s not taking in enough oxygen through her nose. I force myself to release her hand and I clear my throat. “What do you say we get down to business now?”

  She nods and wets her lips, but doesn’t speak as I start talking about the expansion and the building plans.

  The hours pass quickly, and before I know it, I’ve got a rather good buzz going. Celeste has kicked off her shoes as she sits in the chair with her feet beneath her. She’s writing down almost every word I say as I point to areas on the plans and pace the kitchen floor. She seems to ask appropriate questions at perfect times, and she never interrupts when I’m talking. She always waits for me to pause. She leaves no stone unturned as I explain what it is I want, and she even asks questions no one else has thought to ask—not even Harrison or Burns.

  She’s finally finished her one glass of whiskey, and her cheeks are starting to turn pink as
her green eyes grow more and more glassy. She’s smiling more and she’s even laughed a time or two when I’ve told a stupid joke. The point of this meeting was to put everything out on the table, which I’ve done, but now it also feels like it was planned on her part—like she’s treating this as a way to get to know me—to know what I expect and what she can and cannot get away with when it comes to me. And even though there’s a slight possibility she’s using this in her favor, I don’t care. I find myself craving that giggle that slips past her lips. Every time she smiles, my heart feels like it’s soaring across the room. This should piss me off, but I find myself letting it continue even though I already know how this would end: very badly.

  “So, let me get this straight,” she says, holding up a finger as a smile plays on her perfect lips. “Everyone is convinced that your family stole their land, yet not one single person has the original property lines? Nobody? There’s not an original map in the city library? Not one in the post office or town hall? These are things that federal buildings like to display.”

  “Not a single map has been found,” I tell her. “That’s another reason why the town believes the lie. They’re sure that once my grandfather had the lines moved, he also destroyed every last trace of evidence. It’s complete nonsense.” I collapse in the chair at her side and take another swig of my whiskey.

  She shakes her head. “This is crazy. I mean, it’s like a family feud that’s been going on for literally generations.” Her eyes double in size.

  I nod once. “Yep.”

  “I don’t understand. I mean, why would these families carry this around for so long?”

  I shrug as I slouch back. “I don’t know. I guess they’re just jealous? I mean, they’ve owned this land for hundreds of years and then here comes my grandpa, suddenly making millions—and later, billions—of dollars when they’ve been working their asses off and farming their land for all these years.”

  “So who was farming this land before construction started?”

  “No one. My family has never been the farming type. I mean, maybe a long time ago. But that’s why my grandpa started the brewery. He had this land he couldn’t do anything else with.”

  “So . . . were the other families not farming it because they knew it wasn’t theirs?”

  “At this point, I don’t think it matters,” I point out.

  She gets quiet as her eyes cloud over.

  “What are you thinking?” I ask, watching her.

  “I was just trying to figure out how in the hell we’re going to prove that the land was never theirs.”

  “If I could do that, what would I need you for?” I laugh and she shoots me an annoyed look.

  “Step one, prove the land wasn’t stolen. Step two, become friends with everyone. You need to start coming into town to do your grocery shopping. Join the church, drink at the bar, eat at the restaurant. Become a member of society.”

  I scoff. “What?”

  She nods. “I’m serious. If the town sees you as one of their own, you’ll get a whole lot further and with less work.”

  I stand up and take my glass to the island to pour another drink. “If you think I’m going to waste my time playing some kind of political role, you’re out of your mind.”

  She stands up and moves in front of me. Mere inches separate us. I can damn near feel the heat radiating off her body. Mine absorbs it without trying. “Trust me, Drake. Give me three months. If we haven’t gotten anywhere with this town in three months, then we’ll do what we need to do—legally—to get this expansion built.” Her eyes are shining and pleading with me.

  “Why can’t we just do that now?” I ask, refusing to pull my eyes away from hers.

  “This is the easy way. Trust me.” Her eyes are still locked with mine and they’re glowing, full of determination. She’s sure and she’s teasing me in every way possible. Hate fills my gut but it almost doesn’t register.

  It feels like we’re being pulled together. I begin leaning in, so slowly I almost don’t realize it’s happening. She wets her lips, her green eyes filling with confusion. She wants me, but she’s not sure why.

  “You’re eyes are beautiful, you know that?” I quietly ask. So quietly I’m not even sure I said the words aloud.

  Her lips turn up only slightly. She liked the compliment. Time between us seems to have paused, like we caused the world to stop spinning. We’re both frozen in this moment, unsure of what it will bring. She lets out a shallow breath that blows across my dry lips. My hand begins to move upward, planning on landing gently on her cheek where I can feel her soft skin as the space between our lips gets slimmer and slimmer. I’m leaning in. She’s leaning in. Her chest is rising and falling quickly with anticipation. My body feels like every nerve ending has been set on fire. I crave her kiss. I yearn to feel her against me. I want to taste those lips—feel how tender they are against my own. My heart pounds so hard, I’m sure she can hear it.

  Our lips are separated by just a sliver of space when the front door opens and slams shut. That sound may as well be a gunshot. It scares the both of us as time kicks back in. We quickly jerk away from each other as Harrison walks in, shattering whatever moment we had going.

  “Drake,” he says, coming to a stop when he sees that I’m not alone. “Oh, excuse me.”

  Celeste snaps out of the trance she was lost in with me. “I was just heading out.” She turns and scoops her shoes off the floor. She quickly gathers her papers, pen, and briefcase.

  “Harrison, this is Celeste Teller. Mr. Burns’ replacement,” I introduce.

  He smiles. “Ah, yes. It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Teller.” He holds out his hand.

  She quickly shakes it. “Please, call me Celeste,” she says, shoving the last of her papers into her briefcase. “It really is getting late.” She spins around to face me as she walks backward toward the door, arms full of her belongings. “I’ll be in touch with you tomorrow. We can get started on those plans to reintroduce you to society.” She laughs as her face flushes.

  I only nod, unable to find my voice.

  “Okay, bye,” she says nervously.

  Neither of us moves as we watch her almost run for the door. When we hear it close, Harrison walks over to me. “What the hell was that?”

  “What?” I ask, pouring another drink.

  “It looked like you two were about to jump on each other when I walked in here.”

  I snort. “What?” I take a drink. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Harrison lets out a deep breath and shakes his head as he reaches for the bottle of whiskey, pouring himself a drink. “You need to keep your distance from her, Drake,” he warns. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m happy to see you smiling for once, and God knows how long it’s been for you, but she’s off-limits. You don’t shit where you eat and you don’t play where you work. Got it?” He throws back the glass, finishing the liquid in one gulp.

  “I have no idea what the hell you’re talking about, Harrison. Celeste was just here for the meeting you set up. I didn’t invite her back to my house. It was completely innocent.”

  His eyes stretch wide. “Completely innocent?” he asks, picking up her empty whiskey glass. “Do you offer everyone who walks into this house a glass of whiskey?”

  I laugh. “Of course. Do you even know me?” Practically no one visits my house, so if someone does, they’re a friend and welcome to anything I have.

  “It looks like you were trying to get her drunk. Maybe take advantage of the situation.” He gives me a sidelong glance.

  That statement causes me to go from loose and carefree to straight fucking murderous. “Excuse me?” I ask, giving him the chance to rephrase his last sentence. “Are you implying that I would force myself on Celeste?” My back straightens and every muscle tightens.

  “Absolutely not,” he breathes out. “I’m just saying that you need to be alert with her. She doesn’t know you. She doesn’t know your past. She’s working for you. This i
s not the combination you want. If you want a relationship, great. If you just want a quick one-night stand, fine. But. Not. With. Her! We both know you’ll fuck it up and then where would we be?”

  Fuck. I know he’s right, but the way he’s saying it is only pissing me off more. Telling me I can’t have something only makes me want it that much more. And it’s like he’s saying I’m not capable of having a loving, trusting relationship without it ending badly. The split with Casey fucked me up. I’m broken. No matter how much I want to pretend I’m not, I am. There’s nothing I can do about it. And getting into this with my lawyer? It wouldn’t be good for either of us. I need to keep my distance. I need to focus on all the things I hate about her: she’s a city girl—she’s probably never even had dirt on her hands before. She’s prissy—the type that has to have name-brand clothes and shoes just to make someone else feel inferior. She’s a know-it-all—all lawyers are. She’s only here a year, which means she’ll up and leave just like Casey. Keeping my distance is the only option.

  “Nothing is going on and nothing was about to happen. Okay?” I look him straight in the eye.

  He studies me for a long moment.

  “If you don’t mind, I’d like to take a shower and get something in my stomach. I need to be up early tomorrow.”

  His mouth nearly drops open when he hears me say those words. “O-okay. See you in the morning.” Without another word, he turns and leaves.

  I finish my last glass for the night and head to the back of the house for a long, hot shower. Not only do I need to think things over, but I also need to remind myself of why I romantically avoid people like Celeste. Why I romantically avoid everyone. Casey pops into my head and my blood boils. I wonder if she knew how badly she was fucking me up when she left. I wonder if she’s even given me a second thought, or if she was so preoccupied by her own selfish wants that she hasn’t thought of me since. Either way, I guess it doesn’t matter. She’s gone and she ain’t coming back. Even if she showed up on my doorstep right now, I still wouldn’t be able to look at her with anything but disgust.