Slipperless #5: A Billionaire Love Story

by Sloan Storm

  Still in shock from the proposal, I did my best to keep their expectations manageable. But, considering everything that had happened, I had to admit I enjoyed playing along as they predicted my future.

  I mean, what woman wouldn’t?

  After all, one of the richest men in the country had just asked me to become his wife. Not only that, but considering all of the things he and I’d been through, it made the proposal far more meaningful than I had time to explain to any of them. From their perspective, we were just girls being girls and enjoying one of the most special times life has to offer.

  But then, in the midst of our celebration, there was a sudden knock at the door of my bedroom. Barely audible among the incessant cacophony of our talking and laughter, the sound of a fist against wood was unmistakable. I raised my arms and hushed them.

  Pointing in the direction of the door, I said, “Who is it?”

  “It’s Carlos,” a familiar voice replied.

  Each suite on the resort had its own personal butler, and Carlos was ours. Shushing my friends, I stood and walked towards the door, pulling it open as soon as I reached it. But no sooner had I done so than Carlos brandished a large garment bag before me.

  Confused, I leaned away from him and pointed at it.

  “What is that?”

  Carlos nodded and extended it towards me, supporting the entire weight of the bag on his index finger.

  “It’s for you, Miss Fiona.”

  I glanced towards my friends for a moment before returning my gaze to his.

  “Me?”

  As I responded, Carlos straightened his arm and extended the bag further towards me. “Yes ma’am. Now if you’ll please…”

  As soon as he finished speaking, my friends closed on us like flies on a rump roast. After taking the bag from Carlos’ hand, they shooed him out the door and pushed me on to the bed.

  “Hey!” I exclaimed, as they closed the door on Carlos. “We need to tip him!”

  Ignoring me, my friends circled around the bag and concealed the front of it from my viewpoint. I watched as they unzipped it. After a high-pitched whine of the zipper, they all stood in slack-jawed admiration of its contents.

  “You guys,” I groaned, as I slapped my hands on the top of the mattress. “What is going on?”

  No sooner had I finished my question than the four of them huddled together around the garment bag and turned it towards me. As they did, I gasped and raised my hands to my mouth.

  Pointing in the direction of the bag, I asked, “What is that doing here? It was more than fifty thousand dollars!”

  Clutching one edge of it, Cheri shrugged.

  “Maybe you have a secret admirer.”

  Just then, I dropped my hands away from my mouth. Barely able to form a sentence, let alone utter a single word, I muttered, “Please don’t get that dirty. I can’t possibly afford to pay for it.”

  Once more, Cheri spoke up. With a dismissive tone, she waved her hand at me and said, “Oh shut up, Fiona. Where’s your sense of adventure? Let’s try this on one more time.”

  I shot to my feet.

  “No way! Are you crazy?”

  “Well,” she scoffed. “If you won’t do it voluntarily, I guess we’ll have to force the issue.”

  And almost before I realized it, my other three friends descended upon me and began to tear my clothes away from my body. In seconds, they’d gotten me in an almost nude state, forced me into the dress and zipped me up.

  I wobbled in place, half-dazed by the speed of their assault. But they left me almost no time to recover. In fact, no sooner had they zipped me up than they paused and looked at one another simultaneously.

  “Makeup,” they said, echoing each other in unison.

  I looked at all of them as if they were quite insane.

  “Makeup?” I mumbled. “You guys are being ridiculous. We’re just going to ruin the dress and…”

  Just then, Kelly stepped forward.

  “No, no, Fiona. Everything will be fine. We just want to take some pictures, so you know what you’re going to look like on your wedding day. That’s all.”

  It was clear my protests were going to go unheeded. So I decided to give in to my friend’s demands, if only to get this over as soon as possible. Over the next thirty minutes or so, they primped and preened and poked me, fixing my hair and my makeup as I sat in dutiful obedience.

  Nearing the end of my patience, I grumbled, “I hope you guys are happy.”

  Just as soon as I muttered those words, an idea occurred to Cheri.

  “Oh!” she exclaimed, as she clapped her hands together. “You know what would be perfect? Let’s go get pictures of Fiona on the veranda!”

  The girls shrieked and yelped in unison, and before I could utter a single word of protest, they tugged me out of the bedroom and began to drag me down the hall. I struggled to maintain my footing, nearly tripping and falling flat on my face more than once.

  In a last-second shriek of protest, I exclaimed, “I’m going to get this dress filthy! Please, be careful!”

  But almost before I could finish uttering the words, we stumbled out onto the veranda in a disorganized jumble. As soon as we did, my friends released me, freeing me of their grasp. As they did, momentum carried me to the middle of the large wooden structure.

  Pausing, I noted the entire area glowed orange under the retreat of a fading afternoon sun. Immediately, my eyes began to scan the surroundings. In every direction, eight foot tall torches burned with two foot high yellow flames. I paused for a moment and glanced at my friends, who’d backed away from me as we entered.

  Noticing their retreat, I turned and looked in the direction of the bay.

  There, at the far end of the veranda, stood Gabe, clad in all white. Next to him, stood another man with a thick book, clutched in his grasp. All of a sudden, I began to feel lightheaded and confused. Everywhere I looked, faces stared back at me, with a mix of expectance and curiosity framing them.

  As dizziness overwhelmed me, Gabe yelled out “Someone grab her!”

  Almost as soon as he had, I felt the reassuring comfort of my friends’ hands as they wrapped around my torso, supporting my body, just in time to prevent a calamitous fall. As they surrounded me, I rotated my head, looking at each of them individually.

  “What’s happening? What’s going on?”

  But they remained silent, and after steadying me, they nudged me towards Gabe. Smiling, he turned his body in my direction and walked towards me. After a few steps, we met, and he extended his hands.

  Looking up into his eyes, I returned his reach without thought. Hues of red, yellow and orange draped across his chiseled features. The brilliant glow of the setting sun caused his eyes to sparkle with reassurance.

  “You’re breathtaking, Fiona,” he said, as he faced me fully.

  I glanced down at my impromptu attire. “Gabe, I…”

  As soon as I began to speak, Gabe waved me off.

  “You already said yes, Fiona. You already said yes.”

  With my head spinning, I leaned against Gabe as we faced the man with the book. Before I could take it in, he began rattling off a charming series of tales about the importance of the bond between man—and wife.

  And then, in the span of less than ten minutes, and without fainting, I’d happily become Mrs. Gabe Hawkins.

  I was never the kind of girl who planned out my wedding day to the smallest detail. Given my preference for planning almost everything in my life, I realize how strange that sounds. But the simple truth was, I never held out even a single shred of hope it would happen to me.

  So when it did, the entire experience caught me by surprise, and for the first time in my life, I had to take life as it came. It was a liberating and frightening experience at once, but one that I wouldn’t trade for anything.

  Once the formalities concluded, Gabe and I spent the next several hours rejoicing and celebrating with our friends. Yet, as with all things, this celebration eve
ntually came to an end.

  One by one, our guests left the suite, and before long he and I were alone together, for the first time as man and wife. As the last of them departed, Gabe reached inside his white linen jacket and produced a folded piece of paper.

  “Here, Fiona,” he said, as he extended it towards me. “Sign this.”

  I took it from his hand.

  “What is it?”

  “It’s a prenuptial agreement,” he replied, with a causal tone. “Our marriage won’t be legal until you agree to the terms of it.”

  Shaking my head, I looked at him.

  “I don’t care about any of this, Gabe.”

  “I know,” he replied. “That’s why you need to sign it.”

  I shook my head and placed the paper flat, scribbling my signature on the line as Gabe pointed at it.

  “Here,” I said, as I handed it back to him.

  Gabe took the paper from me and scanned it for moment or so.

  “My, my,” he said as he studied the page. “You’re quite the generous one aren’t you?”

  Confused, I frowned as I looked at him.

  “What are you talking about? All I did was sign the agreement you asked me to sign.”

  “Mmm, hmm... Actually, no,” he replied, as he studied the page. “What you signed was the room service tip. Gabe brought the page closer to his face and continued, “And, it looks as if you tipped about fifty percent!”

  Room service bill? Fifty percent?

  Shaking my head, I looked at him and asked, “What are you talking about?”

  Gabe leaned back and as he did a deep belly laugh sputtered from between his lips.

  “Well, it looks as if the next forty years of my life will be as enjoyable as the last four months.”

  As he finished speaking, Gabe tossed the paper to one side, and it sailed to the ground. Afterward, he leaned in towards me and wrapped his hands around my forearms.

  “Fiona, all I have is yours. Without you in my life, everything I’ve built is meaningless. Money is fleeting but the love we share will last forever.”

  I looked at him for a moment or so as the reality of his prank settled in upon me. Just then, I realized this was his way of telling me how much he loved me.

  “Hmm,” I began, as I arched an eyebrow at him. “Forever is a long time.”

  As I finished speaking, I glanced past him at the piece of paper on the floor and said, “I think I might need to see that one more time.”

  “If you bend over,” he said, with a stern tone in his voice. “You’ll find out just how long forever is.”

  Looking back at him, I hiked up my dress, exposing myself to him.

  “Promise?” I teased.

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  I watched as the slender fingers of her hand grabbed the inside of the limo door a split second before her leg appeared through a slit in her dress. I could see the muscles in it flex as she made her way inside. Her legs were long, lean, slightly tanned and obviously fit. I don’t suppose I could have hoped for more, especially on such short notice.

  As she took a seat across from me, I allowed my eyes to travel wherever they saw fit. Aside from her tempting legs, she had ample tits, a great ass and a helluva smile. She was a damn beauty, that’s for sure. The picture hardly did her justice. This was going to be a good first night. An unexpected and enjoyable end to an otherwise pain-in-the-ass day.

  “Mr. Sinclair,” she began, as she raised her hand and draped it across her chest. “I’m really sorry about what happened out there a moment ago. Please believe me when I say I didn’t mean to offend you in any way.”

  Just as she finished speaking, the car lurched forward. The tires squeaked on the slick surface of the tarmac and in that same instant, her purse fell from her lap, spilling its contents onto the floor in the process.

  “Oh my God!” she gasped.

  For a split second, I almost reached down to help her, but when I got a look at her cleavage, I thought better of it. While I got an eyeful, she corralled a stack of paper and an assortment of other random knickknacks and jammed them back into her bag.

  Returning to her seat, she flung a handful of her blond hair out of her eyes. It came to rest in an even split along her shoulder, with half of it covering her breast and the other half concealed from my view as it draped down her back. A hint of crimson flushed to her cheeks as I studied her attempt to compose herself. She flashed a closed-lipped grin at me once the fidgeting ceased.

  “Everything okay?” I asked.

  “Yes,” she began. “I’m so sorry about that, Mr. Sinclair, about what happened when you got off the plane, I’m just… sorry. Can we start over?”

  Spreading my legs, I unfolded my hands from their position in my lap and covered my kneecaps with my palms.

  “Sure thing,” I replied. “We can do that.”

  “Oh, thank you. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.” As she spoke, she broke eye contact with me just long enough to start fishing around inside of her purse once again. Within a few seconds, she produced a handful of paper, now tattered at the edges from the mishap moments before.

  “What do you have there?” I asked.

  “Oh,” she said, as she jumped in with eagerness. Clutching the half-folded stack in her hand she smiled and said, “Well, I… I’ve compiled a list of activities based on the proposal I sent you. You know, stuff you might be interested in seeing or doing in town when you’re not working.”

  Raising my hand, I motioned for her to pass the information to me. I took the papers from her, spun them around and placed them in my lap for a closer examination.

  “Got a pen?” I asked, as I started to scan the list.

  She cleared her throat, and then I heard the now familiar sound of her rummaging through the loose items in the bottom of her purse. After a few moments, the noise ceased as she located a writing instrument.

  “Here you go,” she said, extending the pen in my direction.

  As I perused the list, it became obvious she’d put a fair bit of time into it. Under ordinary circumstances, I might even enjoy some of the items she’d laid out. Of course, I’d have no interest in doing any of them by myself no matter what. In any case, I decided to have some fun with her about it.

  “Yeah,” I said with an exhale as I pressed my back into the seat. “This list… it’s not gonna work. Not at all.”

  “Oh,” she replied. Her tone sank.

  This would be easier, and far more fun, than I suspected.

  “Yeah, for example. You’ve got daytime activities in here, like visits to the museum.” I paused mid-sentence and began to cross items off the list one at a time. As I wrote, the sound of her sinking into the seat across from me filled the air. “You see, I’m working all day when I’m here, so this kind of thing is out.”

  She remained silent as I laid waste to her list with the angry tip of my red ballpoint.

  “Okay, then here, at night. You’ve scheduled trips to the opera and at least what… two, three, four art show
s?” I stopped and glared at her to drive home the point. “You really think I want to go to four art shows in five days?”

  Her shoulders drew up towards her ears in doubt.

  Elevating my voice I said, “And to make matters worse, for tonight, you have me going to dinner in my hotel. Honestly?”

  I lifted my gaze up from the wrinkled pages again to see her pink twinge had deepened in color and spread down to her chest. Before continuing, I gave her a chance to offer up a defense, which she wasted little time in mounting.

  “Ugh, Mr. Sinclair. I’m so sorry,” she began. She made a gesture for me to pass the pages back to her. Continuing, she said, “I’ll figure something out. I promise.”

  With a flick of my wrist, I pinched the stack of pages between my thumb and forefinger and held them up halfway between us.

  “I should hope so,” I replied.

  Taking them from me with a ginger tug, she reached up and pulled two long strands of hair behind her ears as she placed the pages flat in her lap. Without looking up, I watched as she traced my markings with her eyes.

  “Okay, well,” she stammered. “Let’s start with tonight. You don’t want to have dinner in the hotel so um…”

  “Not alone,” I interrupted.

  She lifted her eyes from the page. I watched as she swallowed an anxious lump down before she continued.

  “Oh, okay,” she began. “Right, of course. Um, I can um, make some calls. I’m sure I can arrange a dinner companion for you.”

  “What do you mean, arrange one?” I said. I angled my head down at her, feigning displeasure. “What kind of professional concierge are you? Does Katy know about all these plans of yours and how almost zero of them are of any interest to me?”

  “No,” she said. “This isn’t Katy’s business, sir. It’s mine. Now, with all due respect, I’ve apologized to you for how things have gone so far, but I would ask that you please don’t mention any of this to her. Please, I can make this right if you’ll just give me a chance.”

  This was almost too easy.

  Slapping my hands on my knees once again, I narrowed my eyes at her as I leaned back into the car seat.