Shopping for a Billionaire's Honeymoon

by Julia Kent

  I like the feeling.

  We’re growing together.

  “You’re right,” he says slowly. “We’re partners.”

  “We are.”

  “In every way.”

  I grin. “Yes.”

  “And you should share in the suffering.”

  “Right. I—what?”

  “Why should I be rejected in Spanish and Balinese? You can make the calls to the suppliers. You can talk to the worker’s collective representative about malaria nets for the children and family planning curricula for the plantations.”

  “I thought we were talking about coffee shops.”

  “We are. What do you think we’re doing here, Shannon? We’re buying a socially-conscious coffee chain. You wouldn’t believe the code of ethics they have in place for coffee purchases.”

  I hear his words, and I’m intrigued by his revelations, but something’s off.

  “That’s what you’ve been talking on the phone about so much? Can’t it wait until the honeymoon’s over?”

  “Why do you think I’ve been so focused on so many calls? I’m trying to be done before we touch down in Hawaii.”

  “But you said you wanted to tour Kona coffee plantations!”

  He has the decency to look sheepish. “Aside from that. I am placing all the work on hold once we touch down. But when we’re home, we can integrate you into leadership.”

  “What about my job at Anterdec?”

  “Resign.”

  “What about benefits?”

  “Benefits?” His dark brow knits in confusion over those handsome moss-green eyes. “The biggest benefit will be building this together.”

  “I mean tangible benefits. You know. Luxuries like medical care, retirement plans, etc.”

  He waves a hand. “We’ll have that set up shortly.”

  “By waving your magic hand?”

  “Magic hand, huh?” He waggles his eyebrows, giving me a slow once over.

  “Dec, can you be serious for a minute?”

  “You’re the one who wanted to stop talking about business and focus on sex,” he hisses, still covering the phone’s mouthpiece.

  Damn it. He’s got me there.

  “Shannon.” When he says my name like that, it’s an acknowledgement that I’m right, but I need to be patient.

  My head turns into a blank sheet of plain copy paper. “I need coffee.”

  “And I need to wrap with Diego.”

  Adele appears with a tray of coffee and tea, as if she heard me mention coffee thirty seconds ago. Another skill of those who work for the rich: time travel. They learn to go backward in time to anticipate the needs of their clients.

  By the time Declan’s done and off the phone, I’m sipping my caffeine and my mind’s more clear.

  “Look,” I say, working hard to find a solution here, and not just leverage to prove I’m right. “We have two distinct issues: you’re working too hard when we should be playing this week, and you want me to leave Anterdec when our financial resources may not support that decision.”

  He’s agog. Moss-green eyes wide and round. Lips slightly parted. Eyebrows up. Head tilted. Hands on his hips as he leans in, his coat jacket opening, the swoosh swoosh of fine wool scraping the air between us.

  I almost grin, because getting Declan to show any emotion other than bedroom feelings is damn near impossible.

  “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  “Our financial resources may not support that decision?”

  “Well...yes.”

  “Why would you jump to that conclusion?” Eyebrows go down. Mouth shuts and jaw tightens. Hands stay on his hips but his eyes narrow to dark slits.

  This Declan is familiar, but usually I’m not the one at the end of this kind of barely-tempered investigative outrage.

  Uh oh.

  “You just bought a regional chain. For me. I know you financed it. And we’re losing all the perks from Anterdec.” I sweep my hand in the air around the room. “Like this. We’re losing private transportation, from jets to limos. Health insurance. Paid vacation.”

  He snorts.

  “Even if you don’t take it, some people do,” I explain. We’re from different worlds. You’d think being human beings raised in the Boston area and born within a few years of each other would give us tremendous commonalities, but sometimes I feel about as much affinity with Declan’s world view as I do with a Himalayan salt miner.

  “Shannon, I have more than enough money for everything to be fine. You don’t need to hang on at Anterdec for your salary and benefits.”

  “I don’t?”

  He gives me a smile that makes it clear he thinks I’m adorable, like a cocker spaniel puppy or an American Girl doll. “No. You don’t. Your salary is negligible.”

  Huh?

  “Excuse me?”

  “It’s cute that you wanted to stay on at Anterdec after we married, but you can give it up now.”

  “Hold on.”

  He did not just call my working “cute,” right?

  “I know you’d be bored if you didn’t work -- ”

  “Cute? Did you just call my career ‘cute’?”

  Dec shrugs. “You’re a modern woman.”

  Did Folger’s Coffee secretly replace my husband with his father?

  “And I know you want to contribute,” he continues.

  “I want to work,” I insist, temper flaring.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” he cautions, as if I’m the one behaving like a 1950s ad executive with a misogyny streak the size of a ’57 Oldsmobile.

  “Like what?”

  “Like I’m wrong.”

  “You are!”

  “What did I say?”

  “You are so condescending.”

  The plane jerks, curving at a hard right, sending me into Declan, his arms wrapping around me as we fall down. He takes the brunt of the fall by instinctively turning, his shoulder and hip the first point of contact. I go limp as I land on him, not wanting to hurt him, but then I tense up.

  He’s suddenly so foreign to me. How do we go from casual rawness to cold superiority so quickly?

  “We’ve hit another rough patch,” the pilot says over the intercom.

  No kidding.

  “Are you hurt?” Declan asks as we stand carefully and make our way to seats with belts attached.

  “Bruised ego and elbow. Nothing too important hurt,” I say with a sniffling flourish.

  He peers at me.”You’re really pissed.”

  “I am.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I think you’re performing all this extra work because you overcommitted our financial resources and you’re shutting me out from the truth.”

  The expression that spreads across his face is the most infuriating response he could give.

  Because he smiles.

  “You really think that?”

  “How am I supposed to know? And so help me god, if you say the word ‘cute’ again, I’ll -- ”

  “Shannon.” His voice downshifts a gear. “You know my net worth.”

  “But the coffee chain must cost so much.”

  He quirks an eyebrow.

  “And you know that I know how to operate when it comes to finance.”

  “Sure, but—”

  “And you know my mother’s trust provides an income.”

  I start to protest and stop.

  “We don’t need to get desperate here. It’s not like we’re about to be thrown out on the street and you have to work the Vegas Strip topless with your breasts painted as Minions.”

  I shudder, remembering the incident with my dad and the woman working a footbridge in front of Caesar’s Palace.

  “You’re sure?”

  “Of course, I would pay you a pretty penny for that show. Private audience only.”

  “Stop!”

  His eyes dart to the window, then move silently, slowly, taking in the jet. “We won’t have a corporate jet
. But I’m sure first class commercial is fine.” His eyes roll up. “Despite what my father says, it’s surely not the equivalent of taking a rickshaw on the streets of Mumbai.”

  “You’ll suffer.” I brush the hair from his brow. “But stay strong.” I offer him a fist bump. He declines.

  “Andrew’s letting us acquire the Beanmobile.”

  “The what?”

  “The car formerly known as Turdmobile. Plus I have my Audi SUV and the Tesla. We’re fine for transportation.” He frowns. “I might have to learn how to pump gas, though.”

  I laugh. “Right.” Now he’s taking the joking too far. What grown man who drives doesn’t know how to pump his own gas?

  “You’re losing Grace.”

  He goes pale. “Ouch. That’s right.” Then he smirks. “But I have a plan to convince her to stay.”

  “Then that’s even more salary expenses for employees. And if I quit, we need benefits.”

  “Grind It Fresh! has a new human resources team. They’re on it.”

  “So I don’t have to worry?”

  “You never have to worry about money.” A piece of chocolate-dipped strawberry catches my eyes, so I eat it while Declan speaks. “Shannon, I know we come from radically different financial backgrounds.”

  “And you have a penis.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Oh. I thought you were stating our obvious differences for the record. Go on.”

  He gives me a knowing smirk. “We would need a worldwide financial collapse so big that life as we know it ends before the McCormick family money disappears. And even then, I’d take care of you.”

  “Take care of me?”

  “I never, ever want you to worry about money.”

  “That’s like asking me not to breathe. It’s part of who I am, Dec. Most people spend their lives planning their money very, very carefully. Most people don’t have enough, much less more than enough like you. It consumes a lot of energy.”

  “Wasted energy on your part, now. So change.”

  “Change?”

  “Change your thought processes.”

  “Just like that? You want me to snap my fingers and change.”

  “Yes.”

  “What will you change?”

  “Me?”

  “Yes. If I’m supposed to change like that -- ” I snap my fingers “ -- then what will you change, Declan?”

  “Why would I need to change? I’m fine.”

  “You have plenty of room for improvement.” I hold out one hand, palm up, and touch the index finger on my other hand to my flat pinkie finger, as if ready to count.

  It’s kinder than pulling out a hatpin for his ego.

  His face flushes, neck going taut. “Excuse me?”

  “We all do.”

  “I’m in good shape, thanks.” Smirk.

  “How about with my family?”

  “If by ‘change’ you mean move away from them, I’m all ears.” As he crosses his arms over his chest, he leans back, cocky and stoic, eyes burning for me.

  He looks just like he did that first day in the boardroom when we ran into each other by surprise after the toilet incident.

  “If you expect me to change my whole approach to money to fit yours, then you need to change your whole approach to something else to fit me.”

  “I have something that I can adjust to fit you.” The smirk turns into a leer.

  “Declan!”

  He sighs. “Like what?” But his lips twitch with amusement, dark eyebrows framing those green eyes that watch me like a hawk. We’re feeling each other out – metaphorically – as we make up the rules for our new marriage on the spot. I get the sense that this is just the beginning of many, many conversations like this.

  The first one matters. Establishing the ground rules is paramount.

  I only know that because Declan’s taught it to me.

  And I’m a very, very good student.

  “You wall yourself off from my family too much.”

  “The Great Wall of China isn’t enough wall for your mother, Shannon.”

  He’s got me there. Maybe this isn’t the place to push my agenda.

  Time to deflect.

  I punch him in the chest.

  “Ow! What’s that for?”

  “Calling my salary ‘cute.’”

  “It is cute!” He blinks, watching me, knowing I’m changing the subject. Wily and sharp, Declan’s choosing not to call me on it.

  “It’s more than the median income for a family of four in the U.S.”

  “Right. Cute.”

  Billionaires.

  “Let me worry about money. You focus on branding. I’m getting everything set up before—”

  The pilot cuts in with landing instructions. We click our seat belts.

  “Before?”

  “Before we land in Hawaii. If you can tolerate one—one—coffee plantation tour, the rest of our week is devoted to you.”

  “Us.”

  “You.” He kisses the back of my hand, then bites the skin at my middle knuckle, plucking it like a rose petal between his teeth, his tongue licking the soft skin, making the backs of my knees tingle my spine.

  And other body parts.

  I sigh.

  “A week alone with you in an oceanside villa with complete privacy, endless room service, and no clothes is my idea of a honeymoon.”

  “Mine, too,” I reply, pulling my skirt up and showing a scandalous amount of bare thigh.

  “Good.” He wiggles his phone in front of me, looks at my thigh, then the phone. “Let me make one more call and—”

  Damn it. Defeated by a piece of plastic that lights up and vibrates.

  I turn away, pretending to nap.

  Might as well.

  Sounds like the next week will involve lots of time in bed.

  But not much sleep.

  Declan

  That conversation really happened.

  And it was cute, aside from the part where Shannon questioned my net worth. She thinks she needs to work at Anterdec because I bought a company.

  See? Cute.

  A lesser man would have his confidence shaken. A weaker man would wonder why his wife would leap to the conclusion that money problems drove his behavior. A man with fewer options in business and life would cling to his scarce resources, turning inward, cynical and angry.

  I’m none of those men.

  Shannon is pretending to sleep, so I take the time to think it all through. I also take the opportunity to ogle her, that skirt showing enough thigh to get me hard again.

  I’d be fuming if it weren’t easy to explain. When you’re less logical than I am, the world works according to different rules. Shannon’s been brought up by the Queen of Irrational Land. I don’t mean that Marie has anything to do with what Shannon just said to me.

  I just never miss a chance to point out how batshit crazy my future mother-in-law is.

  Scratch the word future. I look at my wedding ring.

  Right.

  Marie is my mother-in-law.

  As if I needed to be reminded of that fact, my phone buzzes. A sense of gloom fills me.

  It’s Marie. They say that you can conjure evil by calling out its name.

  I glance at the text. All it says is:

  $700,000!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

  Yes. Thirty exclamation marks. One for every year I’ve been alive.

  I ignore the text.

  “Sir?” It’s Adeline, the flight attendant. She gives Shannon a concerned glance, then looks at me. A few years ago, I would have tried to sleep with her. If I had a type, she would be it. Big eyes, wide lips framing a mysterious smile, a lush, woman’s body well-packaged in a suit, with dark hair that looks great against naked skin.

  But now I feel nothing.

  “Yes?”

  “We’re preparing for descent. I’ll need you to turn off your phone.” The apologetic tone is for show. She knows I have to comply. FAA regulations. I doubt o
ne cell phone in operation during landing is the difference between life and death, but I take the opportunity to stop the flow of Marie’s increasingly desperate texts.

  “Will do, Adeline,” I tell her.

  The smile disappears. “It’s Adele.” She leaves.

  Shannon might have a point.

  As I power off, I see the latest text from my mother-in-law says:

  I’ll push back your grandchild expectation date by a year if you’ll get your father to give Jason back his --

  END.

  Mother-in-law? More like Smother-in-law.

  Yesterday, my new father-in-law won $700,000 at our Anterdec casino, playing baccarat. He handed most of it off to my dad to pay for our wedding in what Shannon calls a “macho testosterone pridefest.”

  I call it being a man.

  I get it. Completely. The last year of wedding preparations feels like it’s breathing down my neck. We’re ahead of it now – but barely. Marie spent most of this year turning into a Momzilla, a caricature of the mother of the bride.

  Shannon’s pet cat had to wear a kilt, for God’s sake.

  One that matched mine.

  As the bills mounted, my father stepped in and decided that if we turned the wedding into a business event, it could be a business write-off. While I questioned his tax accounting skills, Marie grabbed the budget and ran.

  So did we.

  We ran away from our own wedding.

  And a damn fine choice I made doing it, too.

  Shannon’s family, my dad and brothers, and most of the wedding party chased us down in Las Vegas. Jason couldn’t control Marie. Marie did nothing but control him.

  A man can only take so much.

  Jason rose to the occasion. It takes big balls to be broke and to hand off that kind of money when you’ve earned it.

  But Jason’s settling an old score with my dad. I’m not getting in the way.

  Besides, how I treat Marie’s demands now sets the tone for my entire marriage. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from my father, it’s this: the first person to mention terms of a number loses. And the first negotiation in an ongoing business relationship sets the foundation for all future deals.

  In other words, get it right the first time, and make sure the terms favor you.