The Passionate One: A Billionaire Bride Pact Romance
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The Passionate One
The Billionaire Bride Pact
By
Jeanette Lewis
For Christina.
I would not be here without you.
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is purely coincidental.
The Passionate One
COPYRIGHT 2015 by Janet K. Halling
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Cover Design by Christina Dymock
Elidryn Books
Published in the United States of America
Introduction by Lucy McConnell
I've heard it said that some people come into your life and quickly leave – others leave footprints on your heart. Jeanette and Cami are two wonderful authors and women who have left their mark on my heart. Their overwhelming support, knowledge, and general goodness have pushed me forward as a writer and nurtured me as a friend. That's why, I'm pleased to introduce you to their new and innovative series: The Billionaire Bride Pact Romances.
In each story, you'll find romance and character growth. I almost wrote personal growth – forgetting these are works of fiction – because the books we read become a part of us, their words stamped into our souls. As with any good book, I disappeared into the pages for a while and was able to walk sandy beaches, visit a glass blowing shop, and spend time with a group of women who had made a pact – a pact that influenced their lives, their loves, and their dreams.
I encourage you to put your feet up, grab a cup of something wonderful, and fall in love with a billionaire today.
Wishing you all the best,
Lucy McConnell
Author of The Professional Bride
Contents
Copyright
Introduction by Lucy McConnell
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
About the Author
Acknowledgements
Coming Next: The Rebellious One
Bonus Chapter: The Resilient One
The Passionate One
The Billionaire Bride Pact
by Jeanette Lewis
“I, Erin Marie Parker, do solemnly swear, that someday I’ll marry a billionaire ...
OR I will have to sing the Camp Wallakee song (with the bird calls) at my wedding.”
Chapter 1
The Camp Wallakee girls all ended up on the same row at the wedding. Erin Parker, the last to arrive, was greeted with a chorus of squeals and hugs. She took the seat at the end of the aisle and shifted to adjust the skirt of her silvery gray dress. After brushing her rose gold hair out of her eyes, she leaned forward and beamed down the row at her girls.
It was as if no time at all had passed and they were kids at camp again—sharing care packages from home, riding the zip line into the lake, roasting marshmallows around the campfire, and telling creepy stories in the cabin with flashlights under their faces. Erin’s stories were usually the best, probably because she had the most authentic ear-splitting scream, which she liked to spring on them when they least expected it. She always had to tell her story last, because the resulting chaos would usually bring in a counselor who would yell at them to go to sleep.
Erin looked again at the row of women sitting beside her. Okay, some things had changed. The scrawny, scabby knees were gone, as was most of the acne. And they’d all filled out—some more than others. Lindsey, beautiful with her enormous blue eyes and pouty lips; Taylor, still tall and skinny, but not all arms and legs anymore; and Holly, polished and perfect as always in her designer dress and expensive highlights.
To her right, MacKenzie sighed. “Isn’t this beautiful?” she said to Erin.
Erin glanced around. There was no denying that the West Laurel Hill Cemetery in Bala Cynwyd, Pennsylvania was a beautiful place. The grass was still green, despite the crisp September air, but many of the trees were wearing their autumn colors. The splashes of red, yellow, and orange created a nice contrast to the blue of the sky and the white and gray tones of the graves.
The aisle between the rows of transparent chairs was a carpet of autumn leaves, ending at the Louis Burk mausoleum. Who was Louis Burk and why did he merit such a grand final resting place complete with Ionic Roman columns and a weathered copper gate? The engraving on the gate featured a sorrowful maiden in a melodramatic pose that brought a sweet ache to Erin’s throat. The bereaved widow? The grieving daughter? Maybe the anguished lover? Her mind churned with possibilities.
The gloominess of the mausoleum was tempered slightly by the flowers in shades of cranberry, pale pink, and ivory that were banked along its wide stone steps. Erin had to admit it looked gorgeous.
But still. “Who gets married in a cemetery?”
MacKenzie laughed. “That’s Nikki. You didn’t think she’d pick somewhere normal, did you?”
Erin couldn’t say. Nikki had always been a little quirky, but Erin hadn’t been privy to her wedding plans. In fact, she hadn’t known Nikki was even engaged until she got the invitation in the mail. They’d all tried to keep in touch over the years following camp, but some were better at it than others, and their contact had become less and less frequent as they got older and busier. Erin probably could have remembered what each of her friends was doing now if pressed, but she’d have to think about it a little bit first.
Which was part of the reason she’d been so excited for the wedding. Taylor’s wedding four years earlier didn’t count, because Taylor had eloped and hadn’t invited anyone. This was the first time most of the group had been together again, making it the perfect opportunity to catch up.
“Do you know the groom?” Erin asked MacKenzie.
“Not at all.” MacKenzie shook her head. “But I hear he’s loaded.” She elbowed Holly, who sat on her other side. “Isn’t that right?”
“What?” Holly looked up from her phone.
“Isn’t Darrin super rich?” MacKenzie repeated.
Holly nodded. “I think he owns some kind of software company.”
“Count it,” Erin smiled in satisfaction. “We never said it had to be inherited money.”
“What are you talking about?” Holly wrinkled her perfect brows.
“The Billionaire Bride Pact,” Erin clarified. “Remember?”
“I remember,” MacKenzie put in.
Understanding dawned in Holly’s eyes. “Oh, yeah. I forgot about that.”
Erin glanced at Holly’s left hand, where a diamond the size of a small Volkswagen glittered on her ring finger. “I guess it’s lucky you fo
und your rich guy then,” she said, widening her eyes dramatically. “Or you’d get ... the consequence.” The Billionaire Bride Pact had been her idea—because of course it had—and the notion that anyone had simply forgotten about it rankled a bit.
Holly gave her a small, tight smile. “I guess.”
“Do you know what these chairs are called?” MacKenzie said amid the sudden tension. She tapped the seat of her transparent chair with her long, pink fingernails. “Ghost chairs. Appropriate, no?”
Erin nodded, but her stomach was tight. Holly had always been hard to read and the two of them had clashed more than once at camp. Erin had had a talent for annoying her then and it looked like that hadn’t changed.
She looked down the aisle again, taking note of who was missing.
“Do you know if Kynley is coming?” she asked. Of all the Wallakee girls, Erin missed Kynley the most. Maybe because they had such similar personalities.
MacKenzie shook her head. “I’m sure she wanted to be here, but with her crazy touring schedule, she probably couldn’t get away.”
“What about Alyssa?”
“She’s here, off taking pictures. Maryn’s saving her a seat.” MacKenzie nodded her head toward the empty seat at Maryn’s side. Alyssa and Maryn had come to camp together; Erin wasn’t surprised to see they were still close friends.
“What about Summer?”
“Who knows where Summer is?” MacKenzie rolled her eyes. “Probably sailing down the Vltava on a raft.”
They laughed. If anyone could be found sailing down the Vltava on a raft, it would be Summer. “I’ll bet she’s wearing some funky bohemian outfit and has picked up at least one hunky Czech boyfriend,” Erin said, leaping into the fantasy. “Maybe more.”
“I’m guessing more,” MacKenzie said.
There was a disturbance at the back and they all turned to see the wedding party getting into position.
“I love weddings,” MacKenzie sighed, once it became obvious they weren’t quite ready to start. “Holly, have you decided where yours will be yet?”
“Please have it outside,” Erin urged. “Though maybe not in a cemetery.”
“Ha! I’m getting married in the winter. Trust me, you do not want to be outside for very long in a Utah winter,” Holly replied.
“But you could ride in on a sleigh, pulled by white horses,” Erin said excitedly. She could almost see it: with her dark hair, Holly would make a beautiful winter bride. “The horses could have sleigh bells and you could wear a white fur cape and carry a bouquet of red roses, mistletoe, and holly berries. It’s perfect!” She put her hand over her mouth and launched into her best Darth Vader wheeze. “It’s your destiny.”
Holly laughed. “Maybe I should hire you as my wedding consultant.”
Erin shook her head, relaxing at the sound of Holly’s laughter. “Not my gig. But I’ll give you that idea for free.”
They stopped talking as a pastor in a long black robe came down a side aisle, followed by a string quartet and a guitarist. The musicians took seats to the left of the mausoleum, while the pastor went to the steps. After a brief tuning, the guitarist began to play a series of chords and the quartet joined in soon after. Erin had expected “Canon in D” or some other wedding staple, and was pleasantly surprised when they began to play “Can’t Help Falling in Love.”
Everyone turned as the wedding party made its way down the carpet of autumn leaves, starting with Darrin and the best man. Darrin was not quite the kind of guy Erin would have imagined for Nikki, but he was cute in an understated way. His dark brown hair was newly trimmed, but still managed to look a bit shaggy, growing past his ears and long over his forehead. He had big, solemn brown eyes that made her think of a puppy poster, but when he smiled, they twinkled merrily at the guests. He was obviously having the time of his life.
Erin had missed yesterday’s pre-wedding dinner. “Is he nice?” she whispered to MacKenzie as Darrin passed their row.
“He’s great,” MacKenzie replied. “They’re so cute together.”
Darrin and the best man reached the front and took their places at the pastor’s side as the parents began their walk down the aisle. Next came Nikki’s five bridesmaids in long gowns of varying shades of pink, wine, and cranberry. They were escorted by groomsmen in black suits with ties that matched the color of the bridesmaid’s dress. Erin’s eye fell on the second groomsman in line: tall, with dark wavy hair, and looking mighty fine in his suit.
“Check out number two,” she muttered.
“Oh yeah!” MacKenzie replied.
But as they came closer, Erin’s hopes evaporated. Number two wore a wedding band. Bummer.
The bridesmaids and groomsmen fanned out on either side of the pastor as the musicians paused, then started into the familiar “Wedding March.”
Erin couldn’t suppress a squeal of delight when Nikki and her father arrived at the head of the aisle. Nikki’s dress was ivory with a deep V-neckline. The cap sleeves and fitted bodice were made from delicate lace that transitioned gradually into a flowing chiffon skirt. Her auburn hair was caught in a chignon at the base of her neck and covered by a veil edged in lace. She held a bouquet of creamy roses, accented with cranberry and pink flowers. Erin shot a glance at Darrin and was satisfied to see his mouth open and his eyes gleaming with tears as he gazed at his bride. Pure devotion. The way it should be.
Erin shifted in her seat as a dart of apprehension shot through her. Sometimes she caught Matt giving her that same kind of look. But that was silly—they were just friends and he knew it.
After the appropriate dramatic pause, Nikki and her dad started forward, the leaves rustling and crunching under their feet. When she passed the row with the Camp Wallakee girls, Nikki grinned and shot them a wink.
The pastor spoke only a few words of advice before leading the couple through their vows. Erin had expected something a bit more dramatic, but it appeared Nikki and Darrin were content with short and sweet. They hadn’t even written their own vows. After a long kiss, the beaming newlyweds turned to face the applause and cheers from the crowd.
“Ladies and gentlemen, Darrin and Dominique Pendleton,” the pastor announced while the bride and groom shared another kiss. “The couple will greet guests here on the mausoleum steps, then there are docents available if you’d like a tour of the cemetery. If you prefer to skip the tour, there are cars waiting to take you directly to the Stratshire Club for cocktails and refreshments. The reception will begin at six.”
Erin and her friends joined the line. When they reached Nikki, she squealed and held out her arms. “My Wallakee girls!”
For a minute there was chaos as everyone tried to hug and talk at once, but after a few minutes Nikki glanced at the line of guests waiting to greet her. “Listen, I’ll see you at the reception, okay?” She smiled. “I put you all at the same table, so make sure to save me a spot.”
They promised, and after a final hug, they moved away as a group to the cemetery road.
“So what do you think?” Erin asked, eyeing the group of black-clad docents waiting for tour requests.
Taylor huffed. “No offense to Nikki, but I really don’t want to traipse around a cemetery in these heels. I’d rather find some wine.”
The rest of the girls agreed, so they piled into one of the waiting limos. Erin slid along the black leather seat to the front to make room for everyone.
“One down,” she said in triumph.
“Almost two,” Alyssa put in. “Holly’s got her man.”
“And Taylor,” Lindsey added.
All eyes went to Taylor, who stared fixedly out the window, even though the heavy tint made it hard to see much of anything. The unasked and unanswered question hung in the air. Did it count if you married your billionaire, but then divorced him?
“Nikki looked so pretty,” Erin said quickly. “I loved her hair.”
The girls launched into a conversation about the wedding, the dresses, the colors, the setting, and especi
ally the groomsmen. Erin realized she wasn’t the only one hoping Darrin had some wealthy friends ... though what were the chances they would all get to marry their dream man? The odds were pretty good someone would end up embarrassing themselves at their reception.
Her mind drifted back to the day they’d made the pact. It had been raining for three days and the camp was a quagmire of mud. After lunch, the counselors, evidently tired of cleaning up muddy footprints and trying to entertain scraggly groups of increasingly bored teenage girls, ordered everyone to their cabins with orders to stay there.
They played several rounds of Uno, Phase Ten, and Dominos, and Erin and Kynley did an impromptu talent show, but by mid-afternoon, everyone was bored and grumpy.
Erin couldn’t remember who came up with the idea of MASH (mansion, apartment, shack, house). Maryn handed out paper and they all listed four options for future dreams, including what kind of house they would have, who they would marry, where they would live, and how many children they would have. According to the rules, one of the options in each category had to be lame—like living in a shack, or ending up with two dozen children, or marrying a boy you couldn’t stand.
One by one, they took turns picking a number and crossing off the corresponding items on their lists until they were down to one option each.
“This is dumb,” someone, probably Holly, had finally said. “I’m definitely not going to live in a shack. My daddy says I’m going to marry a rich man and live in a mansion, end of story.”
Erin had looked at Holly in awe. Aside from a few who attended on grants, the girls all came from affluent families—you had to be well off to afford Camp Wallakee—but the idea that you could plan to marry money, was new to her.
“Me too,” Taylor had insisted.
“Let’s all promise to marry rich guys,” Erin said as inspiration struck. So the Billionaire Bride Pact was made. They went around the room and each girl took her turn raising her hand and declaring, “I, ___________________, do solemnly swear that someday I’ll marry a billionaire.”