Playboy Billionaire

by Cherie Mitchell

  He tipped his head back and laughed, sure that she was playing coy with him, but when he looked at her again her face was calm and serious. He hastily cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah. That’s what married couples generally do, isn’t it? Have sex?”

  She sighed softly and glanced over at the bookcase. He guessed she was thinking about the hapless dead boyfriend, the one she’d never slept with, the one who had died before he could snare her virginity. “Ok. Can I give you my guidelines now?”

  “Guideline away, sweetheart.”

  She pinned those baby blues on him. “You need to be aware that I’m not signing up to be your slave.”

  “And I never offered that position to you. I already have a perfectly good slave on my books.”

  She didn’t crack a smile.

  “I’m teasing you. I don’t expect you to be my slave. You’ll have plenty of free time to spend however you like, as long as it’s in keeping with how a DuMonde woman should act.”

  “Which is how? How should a DuMonde woman act?”

  “With class, patience, and refinement.”

  She nodded. “I don’t want to be taken for a fool either.”

  “No fools in this room. Are you in or are you not?” This girl was an enigma. She was standing on the other side of this cracked and pitted countertop looking like she’d just stepped off the pages of a beauty magazine yet here she was laying down her expectations and asking questions as if she was about to enter into a business contract. Although he supposed it was a business transaction when it all came down to it. They would marry, Terence would feel like he’d won, Matthew couldn’t step up to steal his place in line for the family fortunes, he and Arial would have some fun together, and then he’d quietly pay her off and send her out the back door to get on with her life while he got on with his.

  She solemnly out her slim hand for him to shake. “I’m in.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Arial

  What had she just agreed to? She stood in the doorway of her apartment and watched the man whom she would marry in a week on Saturday walk into the elevator. He turned and lifted his hand in a wave as the elevator doors closed. He looked pleased with himself, smug and self-assured. She didn’t wave back.

  Oh Arial, what have you done? She closed the door and locked it before leaning back against it, feeling faint now. Carson had phoned his lawyer before he’d left and asked the man to draw up an interim contract immediately and email it to him. As soon as the contract arrived to his phone, a mere twenty minutes later, Carson had asked her to read it and sign it with an electronic signature. She’d hesitated then, wondering if she should get someone with legal expertise to look it over first, but it had seemed simple enough and it didn’t contain anything that they hadn’t already discussed.

  She had pledged to marry a man she’d only just met, and a playboy at that.

  She walked slowly across to the bookcase to pick up the photograph of her parents. What would they say if they were here? Her mother would be horrified. She’d always said she wanted her only daughter to marry a man that she loved with all her heart. And what would her father say? She could imagine the disappointed look on his face when he’d realized she’d sold herself out for a few monthly payments. Arial kissed the tip of her finger and touched it to each of her parents’ faces in turn before replacing the frame in its spot.

  She picked up the photo of her brother next. What would Steve say? She couldn’t even reach him to tell him that she was about to be married. By the time he finished his hiking expedition and made it back to civilization, she would be Mrs. DuMonde. She could imagine his incredulous face now. Arial, he would say as he shook his head in bewilderment, how do manage to get yourself into these situations?

  She put Steve’s photo back and went over to the kitchen to tidy up the coffee cups and plates. True to his word, Carson had made them both a grilled cheese sandwich while they were waiting for his lawyer to send the contract through and she had to admit that it was one of the better cheese sandwiches she’d ever tasted. At least she wouldn’t have to worry about going hungry once she was his wife.

  His wife.

  She suddenly felt a pressing urgency to sit down. She sank into the sofa cushions as her legs threatened to give way beneath her. In less than two weeks, she would be walking down the aisle to say I Do to Carson DuMonde and her life would never be the same again. Marriage was forever, in her opinion, and by the end of the month she would be embarking on a whole new journey into the great unknown. She flapped her hand in front of her face in an attempt to cool down her heated skin. She felt as if she was drunk all over again but the effects of her afternoon’s indulgences must surely have dissipated by now.

  Carson had quickly and efficiently taken control of the situation after she gave him her word that she would marry him. As soon as she’d applied her electronic signature to the bottom of the contract, he had arranged to make a deposit in her bank account to ‘tide her over’. He told her to send the invoices for everything else she needed, such as beauty treatments and her wedding finery, directly to him and he’d take care of it. He’d also booked a room at the Casino for her to stay in until their wedding day. She could walk away from her apartment now and never look back. She didn’t even have to pack. Carson had told her that he would send a team of removal men around in the morning to pack up everything she wanted to keep and box the rest up for charity. This was how the rich people lived; summoning minions to do the hard work while they went ahead and got on with the interesting parts of life.

  This was insane. She got up to fetch her phone, determined to do a little research on the man she was about to spend the rest of her life with. A Google search revealed pages upon pages of articles and news snippets about the DuMonde family. She lingered on a photograph of Terence DuMonde. He was a handsome man with short, dark hair with a smattering of grey at the temples. His carefully trimmed beard looked like a vanity more than anything else. There was a hint of George Clooney around his brow and eyes and his elegant dress suit revealed his excellent taste in tailors. There was no doubt in her mind as to whom Carson had inherited his striking good looks from.

  She found a photo of Martha DuMonde, a vivacious redhead with a warm smile. Her sparkling gown fitted her trim figure to perfection and the glitter of the diamantes matched the knowing gleam in her eye. These people were to be her new family, her wealthy in-laws who would welcome her into their world and show her the way of the DuMondes.

  There were plenty of photos of Carson too. Carson in a tuxedo, Carson skiing, Carson accepting a business award on behalf of the DuMonde Casino Chain, Carson on a jet boat, and Carson standing in front of the very same blackjack table where they’d spent the afternoon. There were often women in the photos too, glamorous models with hard, glittering eyes and manufactured cleavages, but she wasn’t too bothered about them. Those days were behind Carson now. He appeared to be a man of his word – he had promised to keep his hands to himself and make her a cheese sandwich, and he’d done both of those things. As soon as he said his wedding vows, his loyalty would be to his new wife and no one else.

  Everything should have been perfect except for one important thing.

  She was marrying a man whom she didn’t love.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Carson

  Carson couldn’t keep the smug smile off his face as he tapped his knuckles against the outside of Terence’s study door. His father had believed he was giving him a challenge that he would find difficult to meet but within hours, Carson had fulfilled all of the conditions and he now had a wedding date as proof of his success.

  “Come in.”

  Carson walked into the room as Terence pushed his laptop aside and settled back into his cushiony leather chair. He lifted the whisky tumbler from his desk and inclined his head toward the oak drinks cabinet at the side of the room. “Get yourself a drink.”

  Carson poured himself a measure of scotch and took a seat in the chair facing his
father’s desk. “I’d like to propose a toast.”

  Terence quirked an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me. You’ve bought yourself a new car?”

  “No, nothing like that. Can you recall the conversation we had earlier today?”

  Terence sat his glass back down, scowling as he leaned forward to speak. “No, I haven’t changed my mind and no I’m not withdrawing the things that I said. I’ve already spoken to Matthew to give him the heads up so he can start preparing himself to take over your role in the family business.”

  “What?” Carson’s heart thudded painfully in his chest. It hurt to think that Terence had so little faith in him. “You clearly don’t believe that I can meet the terms of your request.”

  “It wasn’t a request, Carson. It was a command.” Terence lazily swirled his whisky around the tumbler. “What’s your toast for?”

  “I suppose Matthew can’t keep the grin off his face.”

  “I don’t know why you think so badly of him. Contrary to your opinion, he hasn’t been angling to get his hands on your slice of the family fortune since the day he was born. He accepted my offer with all the grace and decorum that I expected from him.”

  Carson snorted. “I bet he did.” He drained his glass before setting it aside. He was in no mood to toast anything now.

  “Pick up your bottom lip before you trip over it. Are you going to tell me your news or not?”

  Carson silently pulled out his phone, found the contract Arial had signed just an hour ago, and pushed the device across the expanse of his father’s desk. “Signed on the dotted line. Everett drew it up for me at short notice, so you know it’s legal and by the board. The wedding is a week on Saturday. I hope Mom can get her dress made in time. She might want to pop over to France for an urgent appointment with her favorite dressmaker.”

  Terence looked startled. He peered closely at the screen and skimmed his eyes over the contract. “Who is she?”

  “Arial Jackson. A sweet young woman who has never welcomed a man between her sheets or her legs.” He grinned, imagining their wedding night. Oh yeah, he was going to show his new bride a thing or two. Bedding a virgin would be new to him but he was certain he was up to the experience.

  “How do I know she’s a virgin?” Terence asked suspiciously. “I wouldn’t put it past you to have roped one of your loose-legged floozies by using God knows what as an inducement.”

  “Should I be offended?”

  “It’s up to you how you choose to feel.” Terence pushed the phone back across the desk. “Do you have a photo of her? What’s her background? What’s her family like?”

  “Whoa, steady on. The answers to those questions weren’t part of the conditions. You gave me two conditions and two conditions only; she had to be a virgin and I had to marry her before the 30th. You can tick both those boxes and it’s too late to add in any extra conditions now.”

  Terence pulled his brows down so low that it was almost impossible to see his eyes. “It’s never too late,” he growled. “What do you know about this woman?”

  “She’s in her mid-to-late twenties, she’s drop-dead gorgeous, and she can hold her own in a conversation.”

  “What else?”

  “Uh…” He scrambled through his mind for another snippet of information. They hadn’t discussed Arial’s background, other than her recent job loss and the lack of renewal of the lease on her apartment. “She has been working in a professional capacity up until now but of course that will cease with the wedding looming. I’m moving her into a room at the Casino until our wedding day and she’s allowing the lease on her apartment to slide.”

  “Family?”

  “A regular pair of parents.”

  “And what do they think of their young daughter marrying a DuMonde?”

  “Uh… I’m not sure. She was going to phone them after I left,” Carson lied. In fact, Arial hadn’t mentioned her parents other than to agree that it was them in the photograph on the shelf.

  “We’ll have to meet them, of course. Sooner rather than later. Perhaps Friday evening for cocktails. Can you arrange it? We’ll use the penthouse at the Casino. The view is extraordinary and Darius never lets us down with his cocktails.”

  “Sure.” He tapped a memo into his phone. He would phone Arial tomorrow and ask for her parents’ number so he could issue the invitation himself.

  “Does your mother know yet?”

  “I’m planning on taking her out for lunch tomorrow to tell her the news. I’d appreciate it if you kept it on the down-low until then.”

  “Naturally.” The DuMonde men were used to keeping secrets from Martha. Terence often said women only needed information when it was imperative or life threatening that they had it.

  Carson stood up and reached for his father’s glass. “Can I get you another?”

  “Thanks.” Terence tapped his fingers on the desk. “Matthew will be surprised to hear of this new development.”

  “Perhaps you jumped the gun by telling him he was about to be handed a legacy on a plate.” Carson set the refilled glass down in front of his father. “I’m disappointed that you didn’t have enough faith in me to follow through and get the job done.”

  “I wouldn’t say that I had no faith in you. Let’s just say that I had very little faith. Are you having another one?”

  “Somehow that doesn’t make it any better. And no, one was enough for me.”

  Terence picked up the drink and relaxed back into his chair again. “When you speak to your mother, tell her that I’d prefer the wedding and reception to be held at the mansion in the hills. I don’t think I can be bothered with all that faffing around here. There’s bound to be hot and cold running wedding planners climbing the walls for the next two weeks and it will only get on my nerves.”

  “Of course.” Carson went to leave.

  “Oh, and Carson?”

  “Yes?”

  “Try not to fuck this up.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Arial

  “What do you mean you need me to come with you to choose a wedding dress?” Bethany, Arial’s friend since high school, slowly repeated the words.

  “I mean exactly what I just said. I’m getting married in a week on Saturday and I need your expert eye to help me choose the right dress. What are you doing this Saturday? I can phone the bridal boutique and make an appointment.”

  “Arial, sweetheart, I know you won’t mind me wording this so bluntly but have you lost the damn plot? You don’t even have a boyfriend! You haven’t had a boyfriend since Wyatt cheated on you.”

  Arial moved the phone away from her ear for a few seconds and swallowed the lump in her throat. Why did Bethany have to bring Wyatt up now? His betrayal still stung, even after all this time. She would not make the mistake of choosing a man like that again. The man she had just agreed to marry believed in contracts and speaking honestly. Carson DuMonde would never treat her as badly as Wyatt had.

  “Arial? Are you still there? Or did you put the phone down so you could go off to look for your senses?”

  Arial lifted the phone to her ear again. “I’m getting married at the end of next week to Carson DuMonde. Do you want to help me look for a dress or not? I could do with your help.”

  Bethany’s squeal almost reached the other side of Arial’s head. “Are you freaking kidding me? Carson DuMonde? Arial, do you know what this means?”

  “No, but I think you’re about to tell me.”

  “The guy’s the hottest billionaire in the country! He’s a confirmed bachelor and an unrepentant ladies’ man. How on earth did you manage to capture his heart and why am I only hearing about this now?”

  Bethany’s words made Arial feel uncomfortable, especially the unrepentant ladies’ man bit. She skipped past that part and steered the conversation onto safer ground. “You’re only hearing about this now because we hardly ever talk these days. You’re always busy.”

  “Yeah, I’m sorry about that. This little boy takes up so much o
f my time. You’ll know what I mean when you have one of your own.” As if on cue, Bethany’s six-month-old son Nico gave a shriek. “Hey Arial, do you realize that you’ll be the mother to a DuMonde baby? You’re so lucky. You’ll probably be soothing him with gold-plated pacifiers and feeding him mouthfuls of caviar from a silver spoon.”

  Arial giggled. “Don’t get too many ideas in your head. I don’t think we’ll be having a baby straight away. We need some time to ourselves first.” How long did Carson expect her to wait before falling pregnant? They hadn’t talked about this. There were so many things still to talk about and Arial wouldn’t be seeing Carson again until Friday night, when he would take her out for dinner at the Casino’s five-star restaurant. He’d phoned her earlier today to ask if he could arrange a meeting between both sets of parents and he’d been shocked to hear that her parents had passed away. However, as she’d calmly pointed out, he hadn’t asked her if they were still alive when he looked at their photo. He’d apologized for being so crass and for assuming things without asking the right questions first, and she’d appreciated the way he handled it. That little incident alone had made her feel better about signing the contract, especially as she’d spent most of the long and sleepless night regretting her decision.

  “I can’t be your chief bridesmaid,” Bethany said flatly, before Arial had even asked her. “I’m still carrying a bit too much weight after having Nico.”

  “No you’re not! You’re gorgeous! Bethany, I can’t get married without you by my side. You know better than anyone of how long I’ve dreamed about my wedding day. I’m going to La Fleur to choose my wedding dress. It will have to be off the rack at such late notice. I’m sure they can find something flattering for you, a dress that makes you feel beautiful. They’re highly experienced in that kind of thing.”

  “La Fleur?” Bethany gave another squeal. “Do you know how expensive that place is?”

  “Carson is taking care of the cost. Can you make it on Saturday or should I choose another time?”