Marrying the Billionaire (Bishop Brothers Book 2)

by Allie Winters

  Wait. That actually happened?

  “It’s okay if you don’t remember. I was pretty forgettable.” Her gaze meets mine briefly before it darts away. “Courtney and her friends came up with this nickname for me. Ice Queen.”

  Gabriel mentioned something about that at his bachelor party.

  “Like I thought I was too good for everyone,” she continues. “But I was just shy. I kept to myself and I guess they took it as rude. And then after that name stuck, it was even harder to make friends.”

  She sets her fork down, curling her hands together in her lap. “Anyway, that time you helped me up was the nicest thing anyone did for me at Redmond Prep. I really did never forget it.”

  My mouth opens, but nothing comes out, the silence between us stretching.

  “You probably have to get back to work, right?” She stands, her chair scraping against the floor loudly. “I’ll take a cab home.”

  I nod, still unsure what to say, and watch as she strides out, clutching her purse tightly to her, her head tilted down.

  What just happened?

  “Shit.”

  I rub my eyes, a headache forming from staring at the screen too long. Of all the pictures someone could have taken from our lunch, it had to be one from the end, Serena looking down at her lap sorrowfully, me with a deep frown on my face.

  Not when we walked in and I made sure I was holding her hand. Not when we were chatting with another high profile couple. It had to be the least flattering moment.

  We’ve got tonight to make up for it, though. I confirmed with Vivian and it’s the American Lung Association we’re supporting, apparently. I’ll have to head straight there from work, but that’s why I keep extra tuxes here.

  There’s a knock on the door and Tracy bustles in, laying a thick folder on my desk. “Purchasing needs your signature on these.”

  I open the stack to actually figure out what I’m signing, but I can’t concentrate because her mouth takes off like a rocket as usual.

  “Oh my God, Serena’s just to die for, isn’t she? I totally get how you fell in love with her.”

  I keep silent, experience telling me she doesn’t really want an answer.

  “I postponed your five o’clock meeting till tomorrow so you have time to prepare for your benefit tonight and got in touch with Mrs. Bishop like you asked. She’s set to meet you there at six.”

  It takes me a moment to realize who she’s referring to, the same as earlier when Thomas said it in the elevators. Mrs. Bishop.

  The image of Mom’s ring sitting on the table during lunch with my brothers yesterday pops into my head, the oversized center diamond catching the light to shine brilliantly.

  I stand abruptly, startling Tracy from whatever she was prattling on about.

  “I’ll get ready to go now.”

  She blinks at me for a moment, then finally jumps into action. “Of course. I hung your suit in your bathroom already. Should I tell James to pick you up earlier?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Are you… okay?”

  I wipe my palms on my pants, refusing to give credence to whatever she thinks she sees on my face. “Never better. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  She nods and exits the office, and I brace myself on the edge of my desk, inhaling deeply.

  I’ve been through this. Thought I put it behind me.

  So why is it happening again?

  I go through the routine of getting ready and sit in the car patiently as James navigates rush hour traffic, then ask him to drop me off just before we reach our destination.

  While there’s no red carpet per se, there are still photographers lined up outside the entrance, waiting to capture the perfect shot. For all I know, the event organizers hired them to make the donors feel self-important since the public won’t recognize most of the attendees.

  Except for me and Serena.

  It’s our first foray to an event as a married couple. Well, as a couple, period. Why didn’t I skip tonight so we have more time to prepare?

  Will I ever be prepared, though?

  I check my email on my phone until a cab pulls up a few minutes later next to me, Serena in the backseat. She opens the door dressed in a pale blue gown that highlights her porcelain features and fair hair, with silver stilettos and a matching shawl draped loosely over her arms.

  I hold my hand out to her as she steps onto the curb, the slit in the side of her dress widening briefly to showcase long, toned legs, and I look away when I realize I’m staring.

  “I was expecting to beat you here,” she comments, letting go of me to straighten the slightly frayed hem. “You worked so late last night, I was half afraid you wouldn’t come.”

  What I would normally take as an off-hand remark seems different paired with her words at the end of lunch.

  “I won’t leave you alone tonight.”

  She pauses, glancing up at me, but otherwise stays silent.

  “If you were worried about that, I mean.”

  Her gaze flicks over my face, a smile finally creeping over her lips. “Thank you.”

  I nod, holding a hand out to her again. “We need them to take our photo up ahead. You ready?”

  “Mmm hmm.” She places her palm in mine, her skin incredibly soft.

  What am I thinking? Of course her hand is soft. She’s a woman.

  We walk toward the entrance, Serena nearly matching me in height in the heels she’s wearing. She’s tall to begin with, probably about five foot nine, and that combined with her slender build and delicate features gives her a willowy, nymph-like appearance.

  Her grip on me tightens as we approach, the sudden flashing cameras temporarily blinding me. How in the hell did Gabriel do this all the time?

  “Mr. Bishop,” one photographer calls out. Guess I’m recognized then. “Congrats on your nuptials. Can I get the two of you closer together?”

  I wrap an arm around Serena’s waist and she curves herself into my side, a light floral scent teasing my nose.

  “Are you wearing perfume?”

  She brings her head in closer to my ear, murmuring, “Yes. Is it bothering you?”

  “No, I- it’s fine.”

  A tendril of her hair dances in the breeze, tickling my cheek before she brushes it away. “Sorry.”

  I continue looking ahead, trying to focus on the camera and ignore how silky her dress is under my fingertips, the soft weight of her breast pressed against me, the peek of cleavage in my peripheral vision from my vantage point next to her.

  I shouldn’t be noticing these things. We have an understanding. This is a business arrangement.

  But that goddamn floral scent keeps getting in my nose, reminding me of something I can’t quite place…

  “Be happy, Mr. Bishop,” the guy calls out again. “You’ve just married the most gorgeous woman in New York.”

  I relax my mouth, clearing the frown that had stolen over it, and draw her tighter into my side, the soft sound she gives in response making my dick twitch.

  Whoa. Where the hell did that come from?

  “Give her a kiss,” the guy says, laughing. “You’re newlyweds.”

  No. That wasn’t part of the deal. It already felt wrong doing it at the wedding when we’d never discussed if it was okay.

  We haven’t gone over any ground rules, any stipulations. I can’t spring this-

  She turns to me, her eyes trusting, and leans in, gently brushing her lips against mine. Her hand comes up to cradle my jaw as she deepens the kiss and moves even closer into me, her perfume weaving a spell around me, lulling me, unsure what’s happening right now. My dick twitches again as her kiss turns earnest, eager, enthusiastic, her palm moving to the back of my neck to cup it, her other hand tugging lightly at the lapel of my suit jacket.

  And all I can do is stand there, dumbstruck, letting her kiss me here in front of these strangers, unable to move, to think.

  She slowly breaks away, her gaze searching mine until her lips tip down at the
corners briefly, so quick I almost miss it, and she steps back, heading toward the open doors.

  “Have a good night, Mr. Bishop,” the photographer calls, already checking the pictures on his camera.

  His words spur me into motion, striding to catch up with Serena, and I pull her aside as we enter the lobby, the hum of murmured conversation and clinking glasses just ahead.

  She won’t look at me as I take hold of her elbow and steer her into a corner, her head cast down.

  “Serena, I-”

  “I’m sorry, okay?”

  She’s sorry? “For what?”

  “Kissing you,” she whispers, still looking down, her shoulders hunched forward. “He said to kiss and I thought-”

  “No, no, it’s fine. It’s my fault. I wasn’t prepared.” I run a hand through my hair, pulling at it, an odd weight settling in my stomach. “I- I’ve never done anything like this before.”

  She finally raises her head, a sheen of wetness in her eyes, and my hand makes a strange twitching motion, almost as if it wants to reach out to her.

  “This PDA doesn’t come natural to me,” I continue. “I’ve always been careful not to be photographed with a woman. I don’t need the media linking me with anyone, getting the wrong impression. I need to… retrain myself, I guess. It’s not anything about you.”

  She bites her lip, still wary. “I was just doing what I thought you’d want me to.”

  “I did want you to.” Her eyes widen, and I quickly amend my statement. “I mean, it’s what we’re supposed to do. It’s the point of all this.”

  I set this in motion with my outburst at the altar, and now I need to back it up.

  “I appreciate everything you’ve done so far. Moving into my apartment, meeting me for lunch, coming with me tonight. Even though it’s only been two days, you’ve already rearranged your schedule, your life, for this.”

  She tucks her hair behind her ears, her mouth finally curving in a small smile. “It’s not a problem.”

  “Maybe we can go over those ground rules-”

  “Mr. Bishop!”

  Fuck. Can I get a minute alone with her to get on the same page?

  I turn to find a woman in a red pantsuit up ahead waving excitedly as she approaches. “Thank you so much for coming.” She shakes my hand, her grip surprisingly firm. “We’re incredibly grateful for Bishop Industries’ donation.”

  “We’re happy to donate to worthy causes.” Not that I have any idea what we actually donated tonight. It’ll be in some report I review later this week.

  “And is this your date?” she asks, gazing up at Serena.

  Wow. The one person in New York who doesn’t read the tabloids. “My wife.”

  “Oh, of course. My apologies. I didn’t realize…”

  “It was recent.” To put it mildly.

  “Well, we have your table set up front and center.” She motions toward the open double doors that lead to the main area, and I internally sigh, knowing I won’t be able to speak privately with Serena once we’re in there.

  “Thanks. We’ll be in soon.”

  I wait until she walks away before turning back to Serena, tucking my hands in my pockets. “Every time I try to talk about rules, I get interrupted.”

  “Maybe it’s a sign.”

  I frown, unsure what she means.

  “This is a new situation. For both of us.” She gives a soft smile, hugging her shawl tighter around her. “I think we’ll have to discover our own path. There are no right or wrong answers.”

  The back of my neck prickles, but I resist the urge to scratch at it. No rules?

  “So… I guess we’re winging it then?”

  “It seems that way.”

  Well… fuck.

  Chapter Six

  Serena

  “Serena?”

  I lift my head to find Wendy, our executive director, staring at me, a wrinkle between her brow.

  “Yes?” Wait, did she ask a question? “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

  She smiles kindly. “I was asking if you’d like to be on the interview panel for our new adoptions coordinator.”

  “Oh, yes, I would.”

  “Great. Those are taking place next week on Monday from ten to twelve.”

  I sit up straighter in my seat, glancing surreptitiously at the other board members, wondering how long I’ve been daydreaming, but no one is paying attention to me.

  As chair of the board, I’m supposed to set the example, but it’s hard to focus on the animals today. I need to figure out what to do about Archer.

  We’ve attended two other events since Monday’s benefit - a concert at the New York Philharmonic on Tuesday and a plated dinner for the Susan G. Komen Foundation last night. But there’ve been no more kisses after my disastrous attempt Monday. I’d been so into it, thinking it was my chance, that he’d finally feel the same attraction to me. But when I’d realized he was barely kissing me back… God, could I be any more of an idiot?

  My cheeks heat just remembering the embarrassment, and I tilt my head down so no one else sees.

  Wendy continues to speak, now about a litter of puppies surrendered to us this morning and a foster family she’s sure would be a great fit until we can find a permanent home, and I itch to go downstairs and play with them. Puppies make everything better.

  I really should stay in the office and figure out how I’m going to break the news that almost all our funding is disappearing… but I at least have two more months until the start of the new fiscal year to figure it out.

  And for now, I need puppies.

  After the meeting ends, I head into the kennel, one of our regular volunteers, Sabrina, already in a stall with our arrivals.

  “How are they doing?”

  “A little skittish at first,” she says, giving the smallest puppy of the bunch a gentle pat, “but resilient. They’ll adjust well.”

  I carefully open the gate and step inside, bending down and holding a hand out. The bravest of the trio pads over cautiously and sniffs at my outstretched fingers, nose wet and rough. Checking underneath, I discover it’s a boy, and smile as he gives a tiny lick to my pinkie.

  “You’re a good boy, aren’t you?”

  He wags his stubby tail, his pink tongue sticking out adorably.

  “Looks like he’s taken a shine to you,” Sabrina says as she refills the water bowls. “Do you have any dogs at home?”

  “No. I’m-” I stop, realizing how I was going to finish that sentence. Not allowed. Dad’s never been fond of pets. Even after moving into my own apartment, he wouldn’t hear of me getting one. Well, now I see why, since he always considered it his property.

  But it’s still not like I have a place of my own. Yes, Archer said it’s my home too, but I’ve already disrupted his life enough. I won’t push my luck.

  “I get my fill of puppies when I’m here,” I tell Sabrina. “All the cuteness and none of the full-time responsibility.”

  “That’s how I feel about my grandkids,” she laughs. “Oh, and speaking of responsibility.” She motions to where one puppy is relieving himself in the corner. “Let me clean that up.”

  She steps out to grab a roll of paper towels, and as she comes back in, the bell chimes over the front door.

  “I’ll get that.” I’d rather deal with a potential adopter than puppy pee.

  I walk into the main area, my feet slowing as I recognize who walked in.

  “Claire,” I smile. “How are you?”

  She takes off her sunglasses, smirking. “I wondered if you’d be here. So it’s not just your name on the door? You actually help out too?”

  My smile falters, forgetting how blunt she can be. Then again, I haven’t seen her since high school. What’s with running into everyone from a decade ago suddenly?

  She studies me, a wrinkle forming between her brows. “Ah, shit. I did it again. I swear I didn’t mean for that to come across as snotty. I promised my therapist I’d work on that.”


  I blink, taken aback by her change in demeanor. “Um, okay.”

  She blows out a breath. “All right, let’s start over. Hi, Serena. Nice to see you. Yada, yada, yada.” She waves her hand in a rolling gesture. “Yeah, I was a raging bitch at Redmond, but can you help me find a dog for my stepdaughter?”

  “I…” It takes me a moment to process her words. “Um, yes to the dog, but I never thought you were a bitch.” Opinionated, definitely. Straightforward and outspoken, sure. But she was never cruel.

  She grins widely. “You don’t have to sugarcoat it. I totally was.” Her head tilts, lips quirking up at me. “I guess not to you, though. I never understood why you got such a bad rap when all you did was mind your business.”

  I shrug, not wanting to revisit memories I left behind long ago. Things already got stirred up at lunch the other day.

  She claps her hands together. “Anyway, my new stepdaughter hates me. The biggest cliché, I know, but there it is. So to sweeten her up, I’m getting her a dog. It’s the only thing she’s ever wanted, apparently.” She rolls her eyes theatrically. “Tell me you’ve got one that’s already house trained and won’t tear up my furniture.”

  “Well, we normally do an interview process to make sure you and the dog will be a good fit.” Basically to ensure they won’t bring it back in a week when they realize how much work a pet actually is.

  She nods. “This isn’t just a whim. Even if Ava ends up flaking out on taking care of it, I’m prepared to assume full responsibility. I’m financially sound, have previous experience owning dogs, have my own home, blah, blah, blah. You know the drill. I’m here to scout out any contenders today and bring her back later if I find one.”

  “Okay.” She essentially answered all the questions, although we’ll still need to do something formal if she’s serious about adopting. “Let’s go look at some dogs.”

  “Perfect.”

  I lead her to the kennel area, some dogs shying away from the front of their stalls when they spot someone new. My heart goes out to them and I make a mental note to spend some time later giving extra pets. Hopefully, continued socialization will eventually open them to trusting again.