The Organized Bride
Billionaire Marriage Brokers Book 2
Copyright © 2015 Pepin Publishing
This is a work of fiction. The characters, names, places, incidents, and dialogue are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form whatsoever without prior written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief passages embodied in critical reviews and articles.
Pepin Publishing
http://LucyMcConnell.wordpress.com
[email protected]
Interior design by Christina Dymock
Cover design by Christina Dymock
Other Works by Lucy McConnell
The Academic Bride
Undercover Engagement
Blue Christmas
A New Dance
The Godmother Chronicles
The Organized Bride
Billionaire Marriage Brokers Book Two
Chapter 1
MaKayla fell into a chair at the bar, slid her high heels off her aching feet, and propped her legs onto the chair next to her. After a long day of making sure the decorations were up, the awards were in the right order, and the servers got the special dietary meals to the right tables, her toes needed a break. Technically, she was still on the job and needed to make sure the conference room was cleared out before she could go home and slip between her sheets. “What a weekend,” she moaned as she rested her chin on her hand.
“Are you Ms. Marzet?” asked a pretty blonde in an expensive suit. MaKayla had seen her throughout the night talking to different people. As the event coordinator for the hotel, MaKayla didn’t mingle with the guests. She was expected to stay behind the scenes, and she was good at it.
Painting on her occupational smile, she replied, “MaKayla, please.” Swinging her legs off the barstool, MaKayla winced at the pins and needles in her feet. She might need an ice bath for her piggies before bed.
“Oh, don’t get up on my account. In fact, I think I’ll join you.” The woman slipped off her shoes, set them next to MaKayla’s, and rested her elbow on the bar.
“Can I get you something?” MaKayla asked.
“A water would be great.”
The bartender overheard their conversation and winked at MaKayla. He offered two bottled waters and a dimpled smile. MaKayla said thank you without making eye contact. The guy was cute, dark skin and broad shoulders and all, but MaKayla wasn’t looking for anything right now; she needed to remain distraction-free. Once she had her own company, she could afford a few distractions. Focusing on the woman next to her, MaKayla handed her the drink.
“I’m Pamela Jones.”
“Nice to meet you.” They shook hands. Pamela had a firm grip that caught MaKayla by surprise. Limp meant wimp, and too many women out there just didn’t get it. MaKayla suspected Pamela got it and a whole lot more.
“You’re quite the party planner.”
MaKayla winced. “Party planning is cake compared to what I do here.”
Pamela tilted her head to the side. “How so?”
MaKayla swiveled in her chair so she faced the ballroom. Pamela did the same, and MaKayla felt that little thrill her work gave her. “It’s all in the details.” Her hands came up and she used them to accentuate her words. “Most people take for granted that the cloth napkins coordinate with the table cloths—that’s party planning. But what they don’t register, at least on a conscious level—because I fully believe it does click on a subconscious level—is that this particular shade of blue in the company’s logo was used on the invitation, the welcome banner in the hall, and the goodie bags they took home.”
Pamela’s face lit up. “I see. It’s tastefully done, but you’ve managed to associate this color with Bellview Inc.”
“Exactly. Now, by providing the attendees with a pleasant experience—good food, a few laughs, and a gift—they will also associate good feelings with Bellview.”
“And therefore choose to do business with them in the future,” added Pamela.
MaKayla grinned. “Now you’re getting it.”
Pamela took a moment to scan the room, and MaKayla turned back to the bar to take a sip of water. Pamela slid her knees around to join her. “Do you apply the same principles to smaller gatherings?”
“I’d love to do an intimate dinner, but haven’t had the chance.”
“Why not?”
“People don’t book hotels for small gatherings. I have a degree in public relations, but event planning is my passion. There’s such a rush having it all come together, and even when it doesn’t, there’s a challenge to be met.” MaKayla used her thumbnail to separate the wrapper from the plastic bottle as she talked.
“Why don’t you open a business? Surely you know enough people from working here that you could strike out on your own.”
MaKayla sat up straight. If Pamela had identified her exact ring size MaKayla couldn’t have been any more surprised. Ever since she was a junior in high school she dreamed of owning her own events company. One day … If she played her cards right, saved enough money, and made the right sort of contacts, she’d be able to give it a go. Pamela was exactly the type of contact MaKayla needed. If Pamela’s suit was any indication, she was successful at what she did and MaKayla would love to add her name to her future clients’ list. Unfortunately, that list wasn’t nearly as long as she’d like.
She shook her head as she replied, “I signed a contract when I started. I can’t solicit the hotel’s customers for at least a year after I quit.” She peeled the label all the way off and rolled it into a tight ball. With her parents in a vacation home in Mexico for who knows how long, her sister wrapped up in finishing her law degree, and her friends giving up on her because she was always working, MaKayla found herself willing to talk to this dynamic, yet motherly woman about her career plans. “I’d love to be out on my own; I just can’t afford to go without a paycheck for a year.”
“Hmm.” Pamela tapped her manicured finger against her lips. “Working weekend nights must make it hard to see your boyfriend.”
MaKayla looked up, startled at the question. “You’re right; that’s why I don’t have one.” That and a couple other reasons.
“What about marriage?”
“I’d love to be married one day, but it’s not in my foreseeable future.”
“Oh, you’d be surprised.”
MaKayla scoffed. “Yeah, like building a business and getting married simultaneously is feasible.”
Pamela laughed. “Darling, you have no idea.”
MaKayla gave her a disbelieving look, but she wasn’t about to press the point with this obviously well-off woman who could become a steady client. Maybe not for the hotel, but for her future. In fact, she had come asking for her by name … “I’m sorry to go on about myself. Did you need something?”
Pamela caught MaKayla’s eye and held it, searching into the corners of MaKayla’s soul. MaKayla had the feeling that Pamela was looking for something specific, like a missing puzzle piece. She didn’t look away.
After a moment, Pamela broke into a huge smile. “I’ve got a good feeling about you. If you want to quit this job and come work for me for a year, I’d be happy to help you get your business started.” Pamela reached into her clutch and pulled out a card.
MaKayla about fell off her chair. Apparently, whatever Pamela was looking for, she’d found it. “Are you serious?”
“Darling, I’m always serious. Now, call that number on Monday and set up an appointment for Tuesday morning sometime.”
MaKayla tapped the card on the bar as she watched the bussers pull the tablecloths off and stuff them in linen bags to take down to the laundry. She thought of all the events she’d pulled together in this room and the little thanks she got from it. Richard, her boss, didn’t appreciate the efforts MaKayla went to in order to please her clients—sometimes on ridiculously small budgets! Just that morning, he’d made a comment about MaKayla being replaceable by any fresh college graduate. If she stayed with the hotel, she’d be doing the same job in five years that she did today, no closer to owning her own business. The life she could live stretched before her like a long, predictable, boring hotel hallway.
All of a sudden, she was tired of spending every waking moment surrounded by tacky wallpaper and busy carpet. She should take a card from her parents’ deck and throw out the expected. Embark on a new adventure. After all, if they could do a one-eighty in their late fifties, why couldn’t she do one in her late twenties?
“You know what? I think I will.”
“Perfect! I’ll see you Tuesday.” Pamela smiled as she slipped back into her shoes.
MaKayla watched her leave and felt a thrill go up her spine. She read the card.
BMB
Pamela Jones
There was only a phone number, no address. She wondered what kind of job only lasted a year. Perhaps it was a special project of some kind. If Pamela would help her start her business, then she’d be happy to help out in any way she could as long as it paid the bills. This was an important step in the right direction. To get this year away from the hotel was an unexpected blessing.
She flipped over one of the napkins on the bar and sketched her logo, the one she’d designed in a business class in college. Back then, the assignment was more than just a grade; it was an expression of her secret dream.
If someone would have told her the Bellview event would have been a turning point in her life, MaKayla would have laughed out loud. Sure, everything went off without a hitch and the client was pleased, but for MaKayla personally, the night couldn’t have gone better.
Chapter 2
“Could this night get any worse?” Gabe groaned.
He hunched his shoulders, hoping his ex-girlfriend, Natasha, wouldn’t see him as he made his way to the exit. The evening was a disaster. It started the moment he’d spilled cocktail sauce on his suit, continued into those horrific seconds when he’d forgotten the name of the award he presented, and now there was Natasha. If he could just make it past the buffet … It was useless; the distance stretched out like the Sahara Desert. Sucking it up, he prayed she was too busy socializing to scan the room, and made a dash for the door.
“Gabe!” Natasha called out as he passed. She was too loud and several people turned to look at him.
Sucking in air through his teeth, Gabe faced the woman who had turned his life inside out and upside down. “Natasha. Good to see you.”
“You too.” She leaned in for a hug, and Gabe patted her back in an awkward attempt to end the embrace. At one time, he’d thought they were made for each other. They were the same height and had the same blond hair and blue eyes, but that’s where the similarities ended. Gabe could live with her strange taste in music and obsession with the gym. What he couldn’t live with was her ability and determination to empty his bank accounts and her ability to justify misappropriated funds. The woman had zero self-control.
Natasha laced her arm around his and locked him to her side. “You have to meet my boyfriend, Tommy. You two have so much in common.”
Was she joking? He sincerely doubted he and Tommy would have anything to talk about. Several high-level contributors were in attendance this evening and Gabe didn’t want to make a scene, so he fixed a smile in place and allowed Natasha to maneuver him across the room.
When they’d first started dating, Natasha was his whole world. They spent hours talking on the phone, as if hanging up would physically hurt. They were young, and Gabe had a knack for investing and the master’s degree to back it up. In a short time, he’d built an investment company so big it outgrew him. He still technically ran the company, but he answered to stockholders who were all smiles as long as the numbers kept going in the right direction.
As his funds accumulated, so did his commitments to certain charities. His favorite, and personal brainchild, was the Boy’s and Girl’s Center for Healing. It had started out as a tax write-off and a way to pay tribute to someone he’d lost, but it became one of his passions. As much as he loved being involved with the organizations, he just didn’t have time to do it all. Noticing the strain he was under, Natasha offered to step in for him on the boards for the charities he supported. Grateful for her willingness to help him out, he’d turned it all over to the woman he loved without a second thought. What he didn’t realize was that she was slowly draining his charitable funds account for unnecessary planning dinners, luncheons, and substantial thank-you gifts.
When confronted, she’d explained that’s how the world worked. She needed to schmooze the representatives to get on their good side or they wouldn’t work with her. He doubted that. He’d worked with these people for years without the bribes Natasha deemed necessary. He didn’t back down, and Natasha broke down in tears and told him he had no idea how cruel women could be. She insisted that the gifts and lunches smoothed her way into elite social circles. Without buttering up the women’s purses stayed clasped and their gossip was debilitating.
Since he’d given her carte blanche control of the account, he felt some responsibility for not checking on her more often. Within a week of cutting her off, she’d moved on to deeper and more willing pockets to empty, and now he was about to come face-to-face with the man who’d replaced him.
Tommy, as it turned out, was three inches shorter than Gabe, had a stomach that hung over his belt, and by the smell of him and the sight of the empty glass in his hand was well on his way to Buzzville. He was boring a small gathering of followers with mechanic-worthy specs on the hot rod he’d purchased last week. Natasha tugged at his sleeve to get his attention. He jerked as though he’d been hit with a cattle prod, and the alienated audience dispersed.
As Natasha introduced them, Gabe noticed the new jewelry around her neck. The expensive jewelry. It irked him that she’d sold the love they had once had in exchange for petty gifts.
He interrupted Natasha as she explained how she and Tommy met at a stockholders’ meeting a couple months ago. He couldn’t take this tonight. “I can’t tell you how happy I am for the both of you. I can see that you’re really great together.”
Practically sprinting out the door, Gabe handed his ticket to the valet. Though he was plenty warm in his suit, he could feel the change in the air. Fall was well underway, and winter wouldn’t be far behind. He ran his hands through his hair. This was the busiest season of the year for him. As he slid into his leather seat, behind the steering wheel, his phone alerted him to a message. There wasn’t a car waiting behind him, so he tapped on the message alert.
Gabe,
I’ve found her.
Pamela
Gabe took a deep breath. Meeting Pamela at the car dealership while they were both there for an oil change was a crazy twist of fate. After pouring his heart out to her about Natasha and his busy life, she offered a solution to his problem: marriage.
At first he’d laughed, but as she explained that she matched couples who would mutually benefit from an arranged short-term business marriage, it started to make sense. After all, he had many business partners who each specialized in a different field. Why not have a wife who specialized in running his charitable funds?
He’d questioned why they had to be married; why not just hire someone?
Pamela had stressed that there was no contract that instilled more faithfulness or held more weight than a marriage contract. If a woman was willing to commit to a marriage, even a brief one, then she would surely understand and rise to the level of commitment Gabe was looking for. Besides, the leve
l of cooperation needed to keep Gabe in the loop would require odd hours and a lot of familiarity. Some of the charities he worked with would frown on a scandal of any type—another reason he hadn’t hauled Natasha to court—and a marriage would keep the gossips away.
By the next week, Gabe had signed the code of conduct, read the required premarital books, handed over a hefty deposit, and reviewed the prenuptial agreement with his lawyer.
Then, he waited. As he oscillated between calling the whole thing off and praying it would happen soon, he’d call Pamela for weekly updates. His last call went something like this.
“I need help, Pamela.”
“Darling, these things take time.”
“I don’t have time. The holidays are almost here and it’s prime fundraising season. I’m drowning.”
“Patience. It has to be the right match or it won’t work. I’ll let you know when I find her.”
Sigh. “Thanks.”
He’d hung up the phone feeling as though he were adrift on a life raft with no land in sight. But now, with one text, he felt the elation old-time sailors must have felt when they spotted land. Land meant salvation, and having a wife to take this burden was Gabe’s saving grace.
Chapter 3
MaKayla stared at Pamela as if she’d spoken in Gaelic. She blinked several times before finally blurting out, “You want me to be a wife?”
“It’s not a swear word, darling.” Pamela folded her hands in front of her and rested them on the desk. “It’s a title of honor.”
MaKayla’s shoulders slumped. She’d had such high hopes for this position. There was no way she could become a wife. Marriage was the last thing she needed in her life. What she needed was an office, a reception area, and a business that could make enough money to pay rent. “I don’t understand. I thought you said I’d be working for you.”
“You will be, in a way.” Pamela stood up and walked slowly around the desk, talking as she closed the distance between them. MaKayla found herself scooting back in her chair. “I’m a marriage broker—a matchmaker, if you will, though I don’t like that term. I deal in short term business marriages.”
The Organized Bride (Billionaire Marriage Brokers Book 2) Page 1
