Playboy Billionaire

by Cherie Mitchell

They talked about the wedding as Carson led the way across to the West Wing. The music from the party was in the distance now, along with the shouts and sounds of laughter. There was no doubt that the celebrations would go on well into the small hours of the morning but for now she was alone with her handsome husband.

  “After you, ma’am.” Carson pushed open the door and stood back. This room was enormous. A king-sized bed covered in a mountain of satiny cushions took pride of place, but there were also several arm chairs, a large desk and chair, a cocktail cabinet and bar fridge, and a chaise lounge.

  “This is lovely. Someone has gone to a lot of trouble to decorate all the rooms in your homes.” She was babbling in an attempt to cover her nervousness. She hoped he didn’t notice.

  “Mom. It’s her favorite hobby. She’s always decorating or redecorating something.” He walked over to the cocktail cabinet. “Drink?”

  “No. I couldn’t drink another thing.” Why did she feel so exhausted? She was feeling fine just fifteen minutes’ ago. She looked around the room again, noticing Martha’s distinctively fastidious touches this time. She’d spoken to her mother-in-law a couple of times during the photography session and reception but their conversations had been stilted and brief.

  “I might go and have a shower.” She placed her hand on the bathroom door and stopped. Bethany had done up all the buttons that lined the back of her gown when she helped her to get dressed. She would need Carson to undo them, otherwise she would be sleeping in her wedding dress. “Can you help me with my buttons?”

  “Of course. By the way, your bags are all waiting for you in the walk-in closet.” He nodded at a door alongside the bathroom.

  “Thanks.” She stood very still. It was disconcerting to feel his fingers on her back through the light fabric of the gown and feel his hot breath on her bare shoulder. She was relieved when he’d finished. “I won’t be long.” She collected one of her bags from the walk-in closet, another grand affair that she knew she had no hope of ever filling with clothes, and hurried into the bathroom.

  She was glad to step out of her gown and too tired to pick it up off the polished marble floor. It was out of the way down there anyway, and it would be dry cleaned before she stored it away, so it wouldn’t come to any harm. She pulled as many pearls as she could from her hair and dropped them on top of the vanity unit. With her hair hanging half up and half down, she stepped under the shower and stood there without moving as the warm water rained down. She’d always imagined that she would have sex on her wedding night but whenever she’d pictured that scenario she’d never imagined that she wouldn’t be in love with her husband. Sex would have to wait, at least until she knew him better. Carson would understand. He’d been so caring and supportive today, predicting her needs and wants before she opened her mouth.

  She climbed out of the shower and dried herself on one of the gorgeously soft towels. Her eyelids kept drooping and she was struggling to stay awake. She pulled on a new pair of silky pajamas that she’d fallen in love with at the lingerie boutique and then stood by the door. She was having second thoughts now. What if Carson expected sex? It was generally a major part of the wedding package, part of the I-Do deal.

  She shook herself and decisively placed her hand on the door handle. No. There would be no sex. For now, she was dead on her feet and all she wanted to do was fall between the sheets and sleep. He would understand. She opened the bathroom door and walked out into the bedroom.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Carson

  He’d enjoyed the post-wedding party more than he thought he would. Everything got easier once the vows were out of the way. He’d pecked his new wife on the lips when the marriage celebrant said he could now kiss the bride, the congregation had politely clapped, and then he and Arial were whirled away for champagne and wedding photos. The photos had been a drag but the champagne had helped. Bethany and Michael seemed to hit it off too, if the blatant flirting between them was any hint of the attraction.

  The wedding breakfast was fantastic but he expected nothing less. A caterer who dared to supply inferior quality food to a DuMonde event would never live it down and might as well kiss goodbye to their career. He’d enjoyed seeing some of his past conquests among the guests and yeah, he’d seen flashes of envy in more than one pair of pretty eyes. However, those ladies were far too experienced in the ways of the world for him to have ever considered any one them for the role of a DuMonde bride. Never mind, they could make up for lost time once he’d shrugged off the shackles of this fake marriage and he was a free man once again.

  There had been an awkward moment with Matthew as well. For some reason known only to himself, his dear cousin had taken it upon himself to advise Carson not to ‘cock things up with Arial’. The fact that Matthew thought he wanted his advice was infuriating enough in itself but the realization that Matthew was firmly Team Arial was even more annoying. Carson hadn’t replied to the comment, instead turning on his heel and going off to get himself another drink.

  Anyway aside from all that, everyone had seemed to enjoy themselves, Arial too, and now they were in the bridal suite ready to consummate their marriage. He’d toned down his drinking over the past couple of hours, wanting to be at his best when he showed his virgin bride just what life was all about, and he was definitely looking forward to what lay ahead of them for the remainder of the evening. She’d dazzled her way through the day and he couldn’t wait to see the body that lay behind that stunning wedding gown.

  The bathroom door opened and he turned to see Arial walking out of the bathroom. For some bizarre reason, she was wearing pajamas instead of the lacy lingerie he’d anticipated but he’d soon have those old lady-ish and unsightly garments off her.

  “Hey, Mrs. DuMonde.” He walked across to where she stood, puzzled to see that she’d scrubbed her face clean and was no longer wearing any suggestion of makeup. Not that she needed it, of course, but in his experience women liked to enter his bed looking as artificially perfect as they could be.

  “Hey. What a day. I still as if I’m walking on air.” She gave him one of those sweet smiles of hers.

  “Well stay right where you are ‘cos I’m about to take you to the moon and back and it helps that you’ve had a head start.” Yeah, it was corny but somehow he knew she wouldn’t have heard all the old lines before.

  “What?” Her frown made a deep crease between her brows.

  Win some, lose some. They didn’t need words anyway. He pulled her into his arms and crushed his mouth down on hers, pleased to finally have the chance to taste those delectable lips. He reared back seconds later, holding his hand to his throbbing, bleeding mouth. “You bit my lip!”

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing, Carson DuMonde?” She was sparking and fizzing like a firecracker. A firecracker in granny pajamas.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Fuck, I’ll probably need a blood transfusion after that. I hope you’ve had your goddamned rabies shots.” He took his hand away from his mouth and stared incredulously down at his blood-coated finger.

  “Just because I scrawled my name on a marriage certificate it doesn’t give you any right to manhandle me like that.” She had her hands on her hips now and her eyes were still flashing danger signals.

  “Can’t a man even kiss his wife without her trying to rip his lips off?”

  “There’s a right way and a wrong way to go about it and that was the wrong way.” She stalked past him and began throwing the pile of cushions that decorated the bed down onto the floor. “You’re probably drunk.”

  “I’m not drunk!” Jeez, she’d know if he was drunk all right. He walked into the fuggy warmth of the bathroom that still smelled of her perfume. He stepped over her discarded wedding dress to splash water onto his mouth in an attempt to get rid of the blood. He picked up the wedding dress on his way back out. Didn’t the dumb broad realize how much this had cost him? He stopped in the doorway and stared across the room. She’d switched of
f the bedside light and was now nothing more than a prone, silent form beneath the covers. He tossed the gown onto an armchair and walked across to the bed. “Arial?”

  “Yeah?” Her voice was sleepy and far away.

  “Uh, you’re going to have to move to one side so that I can get in with you.” He began to unbutton his shirt. The bite on the lip had given him a fright but it might be tantalizing taste of what was still to come.

  “What?” She was instantly alert, sitting up in bed and glaring at him with the blankets pulled up to her chin like some kind of irate maiden aunt. “You’re not sleeping in here.”

  “I’m not?” He stared at her face, expecting her to break into a grin and tell him she was teasing him.

  “I’m not sharing my bed with you. We might be married but we need time to get to know each other before we sleep together.”

  “Huh?” This definitely wasn’t in the script.

  “Goodnight.” She lay back down and stuck her nose under the blankets. Within seconds, she was snoring.

  What the fuck had just happened? He glumly took a spare blanket from the end of the matrimonial bed and went to lie down on the uncomfortable chaise lounge by the window. Martha had a habit of choosing furniture that was covered in stiff fabric and too many buttons. The noise of the celebrations continued outside and he wished he could go back out there and join in the fun. However, it wouldn’t be right for the groom to leave his new bride in her bedroom on their wedding night and return to the party alone. He sighed as he draped the blanket over himself and tried to avoid a particularly annoying button that kept wedging itself under his hip. He hadn’t chosen a frigid woman for a wife, had he? Good one, Carson. You sure can pick ‘em.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Arial

  She had now been Mrs. DuMonde for a whole three weeks and it still didn’t feel real. The day after the wedding, they’d moved back to the city mansion and left the hill mansion behind in the care and the flurry of the post-event managers and their teams, who were whisking away the huge bags of garbage and the wedding reception chairs and tables as Arial and Carson drove off without a backward glance. She’d apologized for making him sleep on the chaise lounge but as she pointed out, it was his house. He could have easily found another room with a comfortable bed in that enormous mansion and he was just being a martyr by sleeping on the chaise lounge. He didn’t have much to say about that. In fact, he was very quiet for most of that day as they settled into the city mansion. They had agreed to postpone their honeymoon until a later date; the wedding ceremony had been enough of a whirlwind and it made sense to wait a while before planning a honeymoon.

  The younger Mr. and Mrs. DuMonde occupied the entire second floor of the city mansion, although Arial still had to pinch herself in an effort to make it feel real. On the second floor, there were seven bedrooms, eight bathrooms, three living or sitting rooms, and a bar with a billiard table. There were also a library and a study, and a separate flight of stairs and an internal elevator so that the young DuMondes did not have to interact with the older DuMondes if they didn’t choose to. It was incredible to her that people lived like this yet thought nothing of their good fortune.

  Carson seemed wary around her, as if he was worried that she might turn hysterical if he laid a hand on her without his permission. It was getting slightly annoying now. Yes, she’d scolded him for throwing himself at her on their wedding night and she’d bitten him on the lip to stop him devouring her, but that had been an instinctive reaction. She hadn’t meant to draw blood. It was supposed to more of a warning than an attack. He needed to be careful when unexpectedly springing his passions upon her because it always ended badly. Perhaps that was what he was doing now with all his wariness and his caution. Not that they’d sat down and talked about it. They didn’t get much time to talk because he was busy with work and they weren’t even sharing a bedroom.

  The bedroom issue was a sticking point for him and she knew that. He’d made it clear that they should sleep in the same room, even if it was just for appearances sake. However, she’d been quick to point out that no one else could ever know that they weren’t sleeping together, except for the maids who came to make up the rooms each day, and all of the DuMonde employees were restricted by their employment contracts from breathing a word about what went on inside the cloistered walls of the mansion.

  Anyway, there was some physical affection between them now so he couldn’t complain too loudly. Things were heading in the right direction and wasn’t a slow burn better than a big explosion that would probably be over as soon as it began?

  She smiled to herself, remembering the first time he’d kissed her. Or rather, she’d kissed him. It happened on the one week anniversary of their wedding vows. She’d expected him to say something about the fact they were one week into their marriage over breakfast on that Saturday morning, but Carson had been distracted and largely silent while he ate his toast and stared down at the stocks and shares website on his tablet. She’d dropped a little hint, something like ‘my, doesn’t time fly?’ but he’d merely grunted without looking up.

  He'd gone out after that, telling he needed to call into the office, and she’d dropped around to see Bethany and Nico. Unfortunately, she hadn’t phoned first and they weren’t home. Arial stood outside her friend’s apartment to phone her to check if she would be back soon but the message went to voice mail. She asked the driver take her back to the mansion, where she mooched around until Carson returned mid-afternoon. That was when the kiss happened.

  It wasn’t as if it was planned or anything. Carson had taken a cup of coffee and gone through to the library and she’d followed him, bored with herself and anxious for some company. He’d turned and grinned at her when she walked in.

  “What are you reading?”

  “I’ve been reading this on and off for about a year now. I really need to finish it but things keep getting in the way.” He pulled a thick copy of War & Peace off the shelf. “Have you read it?”

  “No, and I have to admit that I’ve never attempted it.” This was surprising, but it was surprising in a good way. She hadn’t guessed that her new husband was a reader but then again, there was a lot she didn’t yet know about him. She walked over to stand with him and casually trailed her finger along the spines of the books on the shelf in front of them. “Are these all yours?”

  “Yeah. I’ve collected them over the years. There’s everything here from Winnie the Pooh to the Life of Pi.” He smiled down and her and well… to be honest, she didn’t put much thought into it. All she knew was that she felt a massive surge of attraction for this sexy, intriguing man and she decided to roll with it. She pushed herself on tiptoe and pressed her lips against his.

  He remained utterly still, but only for a moment. Seconds later, the book tumbled to the floor and he wrapped his arms around her to pull her close. He kissed her back with a passion and a heat that thrilled her – but it also scared her. Was she ready for this? She was the one to retreat first and he didn’t try to stop her. She took a step back and smiled shyly up into his eyes. “Happy one week anniversary.”

  His eyes twinkled. “Ah, so you’re an anniversary sort of woman.”

  “Dates are important to me.”

  “I’ll remember that.”

  That was the closest she’d felt to him since she’d met him and they had shared a few more kisses since then, although she was usually the one to instigate the contact. However, she was positive their marriage was heading in the right direction despite its unconventional beginnings.

  Chapter Thirty

  Carson

  They’d been married for nearly a month and she still hadn’t let him near her. Oh, there had been a couple of kissing sessions but not much more than that. She was a good kisser too, which surprised him given the way she’d reacted to him sharing her bed, although it probably shouldn’t have. When you’re holding onto your virginity as if it were a state secret you have to find something to do with your
time. She’d clearly had a few boyfriends in the past to practice her kissing techniques on. Steve the hiking man for one.

  She hadn’t spoken about Steve yet to tell him how he died. Actually, she hadn’t spoken about Steve at all. Maybe she was still grieving his death? He had no idea how long ago her boyfriend had died, although she had told him about her parents’ tragic deaths.

  She was a funny wee thing. Odd in a cute, sincere way. That day when she’d turned her face up to him in the library and he could not stop himself from kissing her – she hadn’t bitten him or slapped him or anything crazy then. That was their first kiss and he was glad he took a chance and initiated it. He was looking for a book in the library at the time, Lord of the Flies or something, and she came in and started warbling away about it being their first week anniversary. Seriously, what the fuck? Who takes any notice of a seventh day anniversary?

  Anyway, the kiss was good. Nice. It held promises of more to come but then suddenly she’d pulled away, calling an end to it before it properly began. She seemed to think that was enough for now but he couldn’t remember what it was like to be a virgin. Perhaps a one minute kiss was all she could handle. Their next few kisses, over the following days and weeks, were longer but not as long as he would have liked. He was also annoyed that kissing was as far as it went and it made him wary around her. He wasn’t sure if all virgins needed to be treated as if they were made of fragile glass but she definitely did.

  He looked out as the city sped past outside the car window. He’d just had lunch with Gabriella and her pair of perfect breasts in the Casino restaurant. Arial thought he was ‘at the office’. She hadn’t yet put two and two together and realized that he didn’t have an office. The study in the mansion was where he did his administrative work and there wasn’t a hell of a lot of it. Terence took care of the numbers and there was a team of admin staff to do the fiddly bits. He kept his nose out of it. It wasn’t his forte so why bother?