The Passionate One: A Billionaire Bride Pact Romance

by Lewis, Jeanette

  Lindsey drew up a contract and they all signed their names.

  As the years went by, they stayed in touch and eventually acknowledged that maybe billionaires was a little unrealistic. Nevertheless, they periodically reaffirmed their pledge to marry well.

  And with Nikki’s wedding, they were underway.

  **

  Chapter 2

  Cocktails were served in the two-story lobby of the Stratshire Club. Erin had no doubt it was Bala Cynwyd’s most exclusive, and expensive, golf club. The room was dominated by a huge stone fireplace that reached the timbered ceiling. Leather couches and chairs in various earth-toned upholstery formed conversation areas and framed photographs of Nikki and Darrin were scattered throughout the room, some on side tables, others on large easels.

  Erin sipped a glass of white wine and studied one of the portraits—a black and white shot of Nikki in her wedding dress at the end of a long, arched gallery. She was looking down at her bouquet and a soft breeze sent her veil curving in a long arch to her right.

  “Alyssa did those, did you know?” Taylor came to stand beside her.

  “They’re great.” Erin’s eyes roved over other portraits, all stunning in their own way. Erin knew Alyssa was a successful photographer, but she hadn’t seen much of her work.

  Taylor nodded. “She doesn’t normally do formal portraits, but she made an exception for Nikki.”

  “I hope she’ll do the same for me,” Erin said. She could already imagine her own set of bridal portraits—a flowing white gown, colorful flowers, maybe an exotic location like Venice or Tahiti.

  “Did we offend you in the car with all the talk about weddings?” she asked Taylor. Since the pact had been her idea, she felt oddly responsible for anything related to it.

  “No,” Taylor shrugged. “I kind of expected to get some heat about it.”

  Erin didn’t know why Taylor and her husband had divorced, but sensed this wasn’t the moment to ask. She wouldn’t have had time anyway since just then the club hostess called for the guests to come to the reception room. Any further conversation was lost in the noise of the crowd.

  The reception room felt like a fairyland, with swaths of ivory tulle draping from the three large chandeliers, across the ceiling, and down the walls. A polished wood dance floor gleamed in front of a stage at one end, and dining tables with towering floral arrangements stood at the other. Nikki and Darrin’s monogram was projected in cranberry lights onto one of the tulle walls and a six-tiered wedding cake held a place of honor in the center of the room. It was a masterpiece of cascading sugar flowers in Nikki’s colors.

  Buffet tables laden with food lined the walls—seafood, prime rib, chicken in creamy orange sauce, a dozen different types of salad, baskets of bread,, best of all, an entire wall of desserts including fruit tarts, éclairs, cakes, and a chocolate fountain. Waiters in white shirts and black ties hurried between the tables and the kitchen, while a chef in a tall hat stood at the meat table to slice the prime rib.

  Erin and the other Camp Wallakee girls took their seats as the deejay announced the arrival of Nikki and Darrin. Everyone cheered when the newlyweds rushed in, breathless and radiant. They went straight into their first dance to the song “Sea of Love.” Nikki had changed into a strapless, blush colored gown with a full tulle skirt, and a heavily beaded bodice. She’d ditched the veil, and Erin could see that her hair was actually an intricately braided bun, not a chignon. She and Darrin were almost the same height and they gazed at each other while they swirled around the dance floor.

  The reception kicked into full gear after the first dance. Erin sampled the delicious food, caught up with her friends, and danced with several men of varying degrees of cuteness.

  She was sitting at the table with a plate of chocolate-dipped goodies when Nikki appeared and plopped down in an empty chair; she held a bag of distinctive blue.

  “My feet are killing me,” she moaned, setting the bag on the table and reaching for one of Erin’s chocolate-dipped strawberries.

  “You look gorgeous,” Erin replied, passing her a napkin. “A cemetery? I didn’t see that one coming.”

  “I know, right? Wasn’t it awesome though?” Nikki’s eyes danced as she nibbled the strawberry.

  “Absolutely,” Erin declared, loving the drama of it.

  “Is that from Tiffany?” Holly asked, eyeing the blue bag.

  “Yup.” Nikki’s gaze circled the table. “Everyone here?”

  “Alyssa’s off taking pictures and Taylor is dancing with some guy,” Lindsey said, jumping to her feet. “I’ll get them.”

  Nikki snagged a piece of chocolate-covered shortbread from Erin’s plate. “These are so good. I wanted to have potato chips at the chocolate fountain, but Darrin’s mom wouldn’t let me. Said it would be tacky.” She rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “I can see her point, but seriously? Have you tried chocolate-covered potato chips? Yum!”

  “So ... speaking of Darrin,” Erin prompted, “what’s his story?”

  “You mean, how did we meet, etcetera?” Nikki asked.

  Erin nodded. “I couldn’t make it to the rehearsal dinner, remember? I didn’t get the details.”

  “Oh, right. Well, Darrin and I met last winter in Colorado when I went skiing with Holly.”

  “I didn’t know she was friends with him,” Erin said, feeling a bit slighted. If Holly was going around introducing her friends to handsome millionaires, she wanted to be in on it.

  “He’s not,” Nikki said. “We were ice skating and I plowed into him. He forgave me after the blood stopped.”

  “You’re kidding,” Erin said, eyes wide.

  “Not at all,” Nikki replied.

  “This is so not fair,” Erin declared. “I humiliate myself in front of hot guys all the time and none of them have turned out to be rich bachelors ready to propose.” She gave Nikki a shrewd look. “He is rich, right? This isn’t all a show to get out of singing the song?”

  The consequence for breaking the Billionaire Bride Pact was severe. Anyone who did not marry a rich man would have to stand at her wedding reception and sing the Camp Wallakee theme song to her guests, complete with the bird calls at the end. Worse, there could be no explanation beforehand; the bride just had to do it.

  “Taylor should have to do the song,” Mackenzie leaned across the table. “I know Brent’s loaded, but it doesn’t count if you get divorced.”

  “Not here, though,” Nikki cut in, correctly interpreting the gleam of mischief in Erin’s eyes. “My mother-in-law was offended by potato chips. Can you imagine what she’d do if one of my friends stood up and started cawing?”

  Just then, Lindsey appeared with the other girls and everyone’s attention immediately returned to the Tiffany bag. They all watched in breathless silence as Nikki pulled small blue boxes from the bag and stacked them on the table. “Just something to show my appreciation,” she declared.

  The boxes all held the same thing: a bracelet of white gold links with a flat, round disc dangling from the clasp. The three feathers of Camp Wallakee, representing faith, love, and loyalty were picked out in diamonds on the disc. Everyone gasped in excitement and hurried to express their thanks.

  “Okay, I believe you.” Erin turned her wrist so the diamonds danced in the lights. “You really did marry money.”

  “Told ya,” Nikki laughed. She tapped the three remaining boxes on the table. “I know how to reach Kynley and Summer, but does anyone know where Trin is?”

  The girls exchanged uneasy looks. Trin had been in their cabin the year of the Billionaire Bride Pact, but they’d lost contact with her and she’d never returned to Camp Wallakee.

  “Well, I’ll figure something out,” Nikki said after they were quiet for a minute. She slid the three remaining boxes back in the bag with a smile. “Okay, out with it: what have you all been doing?”

  They were chattering and laughing like old times when Darrin swooped down on their table. “There you are,” he said to Nikki. “
I was afraid you’d run away.”

  “What? Never!” She grinned and let him pull her to her feet. “Sorry girls, it looks like my husband needs some attention. I’ll try to come back.” They moved away, arm in arm.

  “Aww, so cute.” Alyssa smiled after them. Her hand drifted to her expensive camera on the table. “There’s some great lighting in here. I’m going to get some more shots.”

  Erin’s head was pounding when the limo dropped her off at her hotel several hours later. Lindsey and Maryn were making plans for everyone to meet for breakfast, but Erin had said her goodbyes tonight. She had to leave early the next morning.

  In her room, she dug through her suitcase for a bottle of Excedrin PM and shook out two tablets. Then, glancing at the red numbers of the bedside alarm clock, she groaned and put one back. She took the other pill with a swig of warm Coke from a can she’d left open on the nightstand and got ready for bed. Before going to sleep, Erin took one last look at the Tiffany bracelet, nestled safely in its box, and smiled. It had been a stretch to get away from rehearsals for the wedding, but she was glad she’d come—and not just because she now owned a genuine Tiffany bracelet.

  **

  The pounding on the door woke her and Erin poked her head out from under the blankets. For a moment she was disoriented; then the pounding came again, along with the faint call through the heavy door.

  “Housekeeping.”

  Erin’s whipped her head around to see the clock ... 10:33.

  “No!” she cried, throwing back the blankets and leaping from bed. “No, no, no, no, no!”

  She threw the deadbolt and opened the door a crack. A small, dark-haired woman in a pristine navy-blue uniform gave her a smile. “Good morning. Do you want housekeeping?”

  “Um, no. I’m leaving ... I’m supposed to be ...” Her panic grew. “I’m sorry, I’ll be out of here in a few minutes.”

  The woman gave her a sympathetic smile. “I’ll come back.”

  Erin dug her phone from the evening bag she’d tossed on the dresser the night before. Across the front of the lock screen was a banner notice from her calendar.

  Johnson & Johnson audition – 11:00 am

  It was a two hour drive to New York City and she should be there right now, clutching her headshots in the waiting area with a hundred other hopefuls.

  Her fingers shook as she unlocked the phone and pulled up Brianna’s number.

  “Brianna Holsted,” her agent answered on the second ring. “Hello Erin. I wasn’t expecting to hear from you for a while. How’d it go?”

  “Um ...” Erin bit her lip. “I’m still at the hotel,” she admitted.

  There was a pause. “Please tell me you mean a hotel in Manhattan,” Brianna said in clipped tones.

  Erin winced. “No ... Pennsylvania.” She rushed ahead before Brianna could reply. “I’m sorry! I had a headache last night so I took a nighttime painkiller and I didn’t hear my alarm.” No need to admit she’d forgotten to even set the alarm. “Could you ... do you think you could call them and reschedule?”

  “It’s a casting call, not a doctor’s appointment,” Brianna snapped. “You can’t just reschedule.”

  “I know, I’m sorry,” Erin agreed miserably. “Is there anything you can do?”

  Brianna heaved a gusty sigh “Probably not, but I’ll give it a try. You get on the road right now and I’ll call you as soon as I know something.” She hung up.

  There was no time for a shower. Erin flicked a comb through her hair and pulled it into a low ponytail. She raced through the room, throwing everything into her suitcase haphazardly. Hopefully she could do her makeup at stoplights.

  She did one last check to make sure she had everything, then left the hotel keys in the room and hurried to her car. Hopefully there were no extra charges beyond the room; she didn’t have much space left on her credit card.

  A sense of futility overwhelmed her. There was probably not much Brianna could do; maybe she would be better off going home—a five hour drive in the opposite direction. But she’d taken the entire day off from rehearsal; it seemed like such a waste to not even try.

  She’d been driving for half an hour when Brianna called back and got right to the point. “They said no rescheduling.”

  Erin groaned. “Are you sure?” she asked, even though she already knew the answer.

  “Sorry, kiddo. I tried.”

  “I know. It’s my fault, I’ll do better next time.”

  “I hope so,” Brianna said before they said goodbye.

  Erin got off the freeway at the next exit and pulled into a gas station. She reached for her phone and scrolled to Matt’s number.

  He answered on the second ring.

  “Hey! I’ve been hoping to hear from you. Is it over already?” He had to talk loudly to be heard over the roar of the furnaces in the glass studio where he worked.

  “For me it is,” Erin got out before she started crying.

  “Erin, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

  “Y-yes,” she gulped, taking a deep breath. “But I missed the audition and they wouldn’t let me reschedule.”

  “Hang on,” Matt said. “Let me go outside.” The noise faded as he left the studio, probably stepping out the side door into the narrow brick alley. “Okay, you there?”

  She quickly filled him in on the details. When she finished, he sighed. “What a bummer. Where are you now?”

  “About ninety minutes from the city.”

  “Are you too upset to drive? I can have Corben bring me out there and I can drive you home.”

  “Yeah, sure. It’s the middle of a workday. I’m sure you can both drop everything for a ten hour road trip.”

  “I will if you need me,” he insisted and she knew he meant it. That was Matt; always willing to help, always prepared to go above and beyond, especially where she was concerned.

  She heaved a deep sigh. “I’ll be okay. I’m just bummed.”

  “Come over when you get home, okay? Promise?”

  She promised, then went into the gas station to use the restroom and stock up on chocolate. It would be a long drive.

  **

  Chapter 3

  Morgantown, West Virginia was no New York City, but it was home to the Azure Company, one of the best regional theaters in the country. Artistic director Sean Marant-Azure had been a Broadway star in his day and now he specialized in turning out high quality productions, many of them destined for the Great White Way. Actors from all over the country flocked to Morgantown in hopes it would provide the foot in the door they were so desperately seeking.

  Erin had moved there three years ago with stars in her eyes. And now she’d blown one of her big chances.

  “I still don’t get why this commercial is so important,” Matt said when she got to his apartment several hours later. “You’re in the play, that’s what counts, right?”

  “I guess.” She was lying on his couch, her voice muffled by the pillow she’d pulled over her face. “But I need more TV experience. Plus, they pay better than the play.”

  “Come out of there and let’s talk about it,” Matt urged. She felt the couch dip as he sat beside her.

  “No,” she clutched the pillow tighter. “I’m never coming out. I’m a big, dumb idiot and I don’t deserve to live.”

  “What did Brianna say?” Matt asked.

  “About what—the audition or the fact that I’m a big, dumb idiot?”

  “Start with the first one and work your way up from there. Was she mad?”

  Erin needed air. She lowered the pillow and took several deep breaths. Her face was hot and strands of hair stuck to her sweaty forehead. Matt reached out and smoothed it back, his work-roughened fingers catching in the fine strands.

  “Yes. I mean, she didn’t yell or anything, but her voice was tense,” Erin said.

  “She’s an agent, they’re always tense. I think tense is in the job description.” Matt’s smile made his eyes crinkle at the corners. He had blue eyes that
matched the cadet blue Henley he wore. His sleeves were rolled to the elbow, revealing tanned forearms embossed with ropy muscles and burn scars. He was clean shaven, though Erin knew that when he did let his beard grow, it came in several shades darker than his sandy-blond hair.

  “Am I ruined?” she asked him.

  “Because you missed one audition?”

  She clutched the pillow to her chest. “Everyone’s going to know I’m a flake and no one will hire me.”

  “Erin, come on. How many people probably auditioned for the honor of swishing mouthwash on camera?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe a hundred? And it wasn’t mouthwash,” she said defensively, “it was toothpaste.”

  “Okay, toothpaste” he grinned. “How many commercials are made every year?”

  “Thousands,” she admitted grudgingly.

  “So you can see where I’m going with this, right?”

  “Don’t try to logic me out it!”

  “You know I’m right,” he said smugly. “No matter what Brianna says, it’s not the end of the world. You can try again with the next one.”

  “But what if Brianna decides to fire me?” Erin said, her anxiety rising again.

  “Fire you? You pay her, right? And at the moment you have a pretty sweet gig with the play; I highly doubt Brianna’s going to give that up. Besides, once the show opens and everyone sees how amazing you are, agents will be clamoring to represent you and Brianna will be the one worrying—about keeping you.”

  She was silent for a moment, processing this. Then she sat up and gave him a quick hug. “I feel better. Thank you.”

  For a moment, something flared in his blue eyes—a look she’d seen before, one they’d agreed to step carefully around. Well, not agreed in so many words, but they both knew Matt’s feelings ran deeper than Erin’s and there was an unspoken arrangement not to talk about it.