How to Marry a Billionaire

by Elise Sax

  It’s all romance. I’m aglow in romance. This is the most romantic moment of my life.

  As I run my fingers through Cole’s hair, it dawns on me that Cole and I are sharing an intimate moment without sex. It’s like we’re a married couple, happy in each other’s company.

  I’m over the moon happy. And content. All kinds of content. It’s time to be perfectly honest with Cole. If this thing between us is going to continue, and if we’re in a relationship, I can’t let the foundation of that be lies, no matter how scared I am about telling Cole the truth.

  “I need to tell you something,” I tell him. “Please let me get it all out before you say anything. We didn’t meet for the first time at your ranch. I mean, yes we did, but I’ve been thinking about you for a long time. I mean, I knew everything about you. Remember that GQ article about you? I have that memorized. Same with the one in Parade Magazine. To tell you the truth, I’ve had a crush on you for a long time. But that’s not the big thing.” I take a deep breath and gather my courage. “Before I start, you should know that it wasn’t my idea. And there was alcohol involved. A lot of it.”

  I tell him the whole story. I tell him that Olivia and Rosalind aren’t really my sisters. I tell him about Operation Billionaire. Everything. It’s both terrifying and cleansing to finally get the truth out.

  Cole doesn’t say a word. At first, I’m relieved that he isn’t upset about Operation Billionaire and isn’t throwing anything. But he’s too quiet. It’s like he’s deciding how to toss me into the volcano.

  “Cole?” I ask. “Are you okay? Are we okay? You’re not mad, are you?”

  Nothing.

  And then I hear it.

  “Are you snoring?” I ask.

  He doesn’t respond, but he’s snoring. It’s a light snore indicative of a deep sleep. I look at his eyes. They’re closed.

  The man who never sleeps has fallen asleep on my lap and seems as comfortable as a baby.

  Chapter 15

  Beatrice

  “What is this? Guantanamo? Are you going to waterboard me?” I ask.

  “Not if you tell us everything,” Rosalind says.

  I’m sitting on the coffee table, and Olivia, Rosalind, Diane, and Bessie are on the couch facing me, like I’m the movie screen at a matinee. Even Olivia’s kids are looking at me while they sit on the floor with Tiffany in a sea of Legos. Diane even turned off the television. I’m definitely the center of attention. I don’t want to let them down. Everyone’s put a lot of time and effort into my love life.

  “We had sex,” I tell them. “And there was a volcano involved. Not with the sex but during the trip. Cole saved me from the volcano.”

  “Ohhh,” the women say in unison, nodding.

  “Did he pop the question?” Bessie asks.

  “He asked me if I wanted fish or beef at dinner. Does that count?”

  “No!” the women say in unison.

  “This man is a confirmed bachelor,” I say. “I don’t think he’s going to pop the question any time soon or ever.”

  But I’m not sure I’m telling the truth, and besides that, I’m happy. Deliriously happy. I could get an overdraft statement from the bank, have trouble opening a jar of pasta sauce, and break a heel on my way to a job interview, and I would still be smiling. I keep skipping instead of walking and giggling for no apparent reason.

  “I don’t think she’s telling us everything,” Olivia says. “She looks like the cashier at the store just informed her that it’s double coupon day.”

  “Like she’s gotten an armadillo purse for her birthday,” Bessie says, and everyone looks at her.

  Rosalind shakes her head. “So where are we in our Operation Billionaire timeline? Has he told you he loves you yet?”

  No, he hasn’t. “He fell asleep on my lap,” I say because that’s my biggest proof that Cole cares for me beyond liking to get naked with me.

  “What does that mean?” Olivia asks. “Is that code?”

  “Cole never sleeps,” Bessie explains. “Only a couple hours a night, and that’s in his bed, not on bony legs.”

  I want to kiss Bessie for calling my legs bony.

  “So, we’ve got an evolution in the paradigm,” Rosalind says. “Now we have to give it a jolt.”

  “The gala’s tonight. She can show him how competent she is,” Olivia suggests.

  “Is that a good idea?” Diane asks. “What if she paralyzes him or gouges out his eye?”

  “Hey, the volcano wasn’t my fault,” I say, affronted. “I’m not God. I don’t have power over volcanoes. And Cole was totally fine. It was the safari guy who fell in.”

  Diane nods. “See that? Collateral damage. Nobody’s safe. Maybe we can seal them in a glass box and hope for the best. Like Shamu’s tank. I hear that Shamu’s not doing shows anymore.”

  “Shamu’s tank? Really, Diane?” I ask.

  Rosalind shrugs. “She has a point.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “About getting you two alone together. You made progress in Hawaii. We have to get you alone like that again.”

  “Good luck,” I say. “Tonight’s the gala, and tomorrow we leave. I don’t know if we’ll ever see each other again.”

  Olivia gnaws on her lip. “Do we have to leave tomorrow?”

  “Olivia has the hots for Rock,” Rosalind explains. “She wants to adopt him.”

  “Just what we need. Another mouth to feed,” Diane says.

  “We’ll deal with Rock after Cole,” Rosalind says, always the most sensible of us. “We have a plan, and we have to keep to it. Yes, time is against us, but it’s not impossible. We just have to put our heads together and figure it out.”

  There’s a lot of silence as we eye each other, each waiting for the other to figure it out. But nobody figures it out. We seem to be at a stalemate.

  “Don’t you young women have sex tricks you can do?” Bessie asks.

  “Like acrobatics?” I ask. “Like trapeze?”

  “Didn’t you read that Fifty Shades book? Isn’t he supposed to tie you up or you tie him up or smack each other with spatulas or drip hot wax?”

  “No,” I say. “I’m not a big reader.”

  “I think Bessie’s right,” Diane says. “You already have the bald you-know-what. Shouldn’t you be doing kinky stuff with it?”

  “I don’t do kinky stuff with my bald you-know-what, Diane,” I say.

  “But you have, right?” Bessie asks. “You know how if you needed to, right?”

  “I…uh…Are there any Toblerones left?” I ask.

  There’s supreme disappointment about my lack of kinky activities, and a curtain of pessimism falls over our little group. Without any strategy to further Cole’s ardor, there’s an unspoken feeling that tonight’s gala will be a goodbye to Operation Billionaire.

  The other women let me get ready for the gala by myself. There’s no pestering about makeup or hair or Spanx. I guess they figure I’m a lost cause. The general mood in the suite is putting a damper on my afterglow happiness, and it seeps into my confidence, making me doubt everything that’s gone on between Cole and me. I don’t know what’s been real and what’s been in my imagination.

  The feeling stays with me as I arrive at the gala and organize details and put out fires during the hour before it starts. I’m wearing a white ballgown, and my hair is pulled back in a simple ponytail. There’s an army of caterers and backup event planners, making sure that the gala is perfect. A band warms up, and cleaners are sweeping the dance floor. Florists are tweaking the centerpieces. It’s all proceeding like a well-rehearsed ballet, and I wish I could enjoy it more.

  Then, all the doubt washes away in an instant because Cole walks in.

  He’s breathtaking in an Armani suit, which is meticulously tailored to Cole’s large frame. He’s smiling, and as he walks, his eyes never leave me. His cowboy boots hit the floor as he marches with a loud noise.

  Cole sure knows how to make an entrance.

  My han
d touches a table to balance myself. I shut my eyes and open them again. Yep, I’m awake and the most perfect man on the planet is walking my way. Walking to me.

  Cole reaches me in a few long strides. His smile disappears as he focuses on my mouth. His arms wrap around me, and he pulls me close against him.

  There’s a chemical reaction that happens when Cole kisses me. It’s sort of like an electrical shock mixed with peyote. At some point, I’m pretty sure the CDC should look into it or at least the Pentagon because it could be used as chemical warfare, immediately reducing the enemy to a disoriented, dizzy, mountain of jelly.

  That’s what I am right now. Jelly. My head is spinning round and round. It occurs to me that everyone can see us kissing, but Cole doesn’t seem to mind. The kiss becomes even more passionate, and his hands move lower, and my knee rises, caressing the outside of his leg.

  Kissing is a great invention. The guy who invented it deserves a Nobel Prize much more than the safari guy. That’s for sure.

  “What do we have here? I didn’t know the gala was this kind of party. Not that I mind or anything.”

  I recognize the voice. It’s Rock.

  Cole breaks off the kiss, but keeps an arm around me so I don’t melt in a heap on the floor. His face is covered with my lipstick, and he wipes it with a handkerchief. “Rock, I didn’t know you were coming.”

  Rock has a black eye and a cut lip. “Charities love money, and what do you know, I have tons of it. But what’s going on with you two? Beatrice, you wound me. You were my date only two nights ago, and now you betray me with Cole. I wouldn’t have minded so much if you had chosen someone worthwhile, but Cole is such a loser.”

  “I think you’re using that word wrong,” Cole says. “I wasn’t the one who let himself get hog-tied.” Despite the bickering, Cole is smiling, obviously enjoying the give and take.

  “I’m going to ask you a hard question, Sprinkles,” Rock tells Cole.

  “A hard question for you would be eight times seven,” Cole says.

  Rock arches an eyebrow. “A joke? Really? Beatrice, Cole told a joke. That’s a first. He’s so different when he’s around you. A totally different man. And you know what? I approve.” He tugs on Cole’s tie.

  “What’s happening? What’s happening?” Bessie asks, joining us.

  “I think Operation Billionaire is a lock, Bessie,” Rock tells her.

  She claps her hands and bounces on her toes. “Oh, goody. Oh, goody. I was worried, but Operation Billionaire has come through. Now I get to be a grandmother.”

  “What do you mean, Operation Billionaire, Mom?” Cole asks Bessie.

  “Uh oh,” she says.

  “What do you mean ‘Mom’?” I ask.

  “Didn’t I mention that I’m Cole’s mother?” Bessie asks.

  Cole drops his hand from my waist. “What does she mean by Operation Billionaire? What’s going on here?”

  “Cool your jets, Aerospace King,” Rock tells Cole. “Girls will be girls. Who cares if Beatrice hunted you down like it was deer season? You’re the deer in this scenario, by the way.”

  “You were hunting for billionaires?” Cole asks me. He’s furious and terrifying. His mouth is set in a sharp line, and his eyes are dark with fury. And there’s something else. Wounded. I’ve hurt Cole.

  “It’s not what it seems,” I say.

  “It’s not what it seems,” Bessie repeats. “Well, yes, it’s exactly what it seems, but I want some grandchildren. I’m not going to live forever, you know. I’ve eaten a lot of cheese in my life.”

  “I want the whole story,” Cole demands.

  I tell him, and the entire time, I feel like I’m two feet tall. Like I’m a four year old, getting caught coloring with crayons on the walls behind the drapes. While I talk, Cole takes three steps back from me. I count them. One step when I tell him about Olivia and Rosalind. One step when I tell him about the plan to marry billionaires. And one final step when Bessie confirms the story.

  Cole points at Bessie. “Mom, you and I will talk later. I have a gala to attend. It’s for a worthy cause, and I don’t plan on letting them down. But you have to leave,” he says pointing at me. “I want nothing to do with you now or ever. You can say goodbye to your job, too. I’m going to make sure that you’re fired. I usually spot grifters, but you’re better than most.”

  “She’s not a grifter,” Bessie says.

  “She’s sort of a grifter,” Rock says. “But that doesn’t mean Sprinkles shouldn’t marry her.”

  “I’ll deal with you later, too,” Cole tells Rock. His voice is cold and brimming with anger.

  I’m frozen in place. I can’t breathe. It’s like I’ve been kicked in the gut, and all of the wind has been knocked out of me.

  “You have to leave, now,” Cole tells me, his voice emotionless and threatening.

  Suddenly, my legs take off, and I run across the room toward the exit in my heels and ballgown. I’m aware that I’m making a scene, that everyone is watching me run away from Cole, and I’m aware that I’m crying. Tears stream down my face, and my nose runs, but I continue to hightail it. I throw open the door to the outside and keep running out into the night. I don’t know where I’m going. My body is moving, and all I know is that I want to get as far away from Cole as possible, as if distance will help ease the pain and heartbreak.

  But I also know that even if I run to the next state, I’ll never get over losing Cole. And this time, heartbreak has nothing to do with appliances.

  Chapter 16

  Beatrice

  In the handbook of how to run away from a man after getting dumped, I’m sure that the number one rule is not to run out into the wilderness at night in high heels and a ballgown. I realize my mistake when I roll down a muddy hill and crash into a tree about halfway down.

  “Sonofabitch!” I yell into the night. My ankle is badly sprained, and my shoes have flown off into the night.

  All around me are trees and probably all kinds of bugs. I’m sure that Cole isn’t going to send anyone out to find me, so it looks like I’m stuck here for the night.

  “At least it’s not raining,” I say out loud.

  Then, it starts to rain.

  It’s not a misty kind of rain. It’s a torrential downpour kind of rain.

  “I know. I know. I deserve this,” I say. I don’t know who I’m talking to, but I have a lot to get off my chest. I guess I’m talking to the whole universe. “I should never have gone along with Operation Billionaire. Who wants to marry a billionaire? I can’t even count to a billion. Is it a thousand million or a million million? See, universe? I’ve no idea. I’m so bad at math. Rich men don’t want to marry women who are bad at math. That wouldn’t look right at all. ‘Let me introduce you to my wife, Mrs. Billionaire. But don’t ask her how much a billion is because she has no idea. She’s bad at math.’ Oh, that would just be perfect! All the rich people would be laughing, then. So, I don’t deserve a billionaire, and I really don’t deserve Cole. He’s so handsome and smart and kind and funny and he has a very nice penis. Why would he want me? Well, he doesn’t. There’s the answer, universe. Cole doesn’t want me. I’m nothing. I’m not smart or funny or pretty or anything special. I’m just Beatrice Hammersmith, leaning on a tree while I’m pummeled with some kind of inland hurricane and hoping that the gushing water doesn’t wash me down this hill to my death. Or I could suffocate in a wave of mud. That would be perfect. She died from mud. Very glamorous. Very sophisticated. Very…”

  “Who are you talking to?”

  I scream. It’s a long, protracted scream. I’m sure that a serial killer or a cave-dwelling hermit has found me and is going to do terrible things to me. I wipe my wet hair off my face and squint into the darkness.

  “Cole? Is that you?”

  “Who else would be looking for you during a storm in an Armani suit?”

  “Is that a trick question?”

  “No, it’s not a trick question!” he yells.

  “You
looked for me, but you’re angry at me. You said I’m a grifter. You told me you never wanted to see me again.” I’m telling the truth. He said those things, and even through the rain, I can tell he’s still angry at me.

  “That doesn’t mean I want you dead,” he says, his voice gruff.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Come on, let me take you…” And then Cole screams. It’s not an angry scream. It’s an I’m-going-to-die scream, which is a fitting scream because a gush of water hits him and knocks him off his feet. He falls flat on his ass and then he’s whisked away, past me and down the hill.

  Uh oh.

  Cole has good lungs. He screams one long note all the way down the hill and lands with an oomph that I can hear in the storm, up the hill.

  “Cole!” I call. “Cole! Are you alive?”

  I hear him say something, but I can’t make it out.

  “Just tell me you’re alive!” I call, again, but I can’t hear him.

  The idea that Cole’s hurt or worse grips me with the worst fear I’ve ever felt. Even if he doesn’t love me, even if he never wants to see me again, I can’t stomach the idea of him hurt or in danger. Even if we’re broken up, I don’t want to lose him this way. The forever way.

  “I’m coming!” I announce and crawl away from the protection of the tree. The ground is thick with mud, rocks, and twigs—and probably lots of bugs—that scratch my hands and knees. But I’m bound and determined to save Cole. “I’m coming!” I yell again.

  I’m coming, but I’m coming very slowly. My ballgown is not made for crawling, and it’s ripped all the way up the back. Now, it’s just a lot of fabric, dragging through the mud. It’s hard to see because my hair is covering my face in wet strips.

  “It’s really raining!” I call to Cole. I’m from Southern California, and I’ve never seen rain like this. It’s like God is squeezing out a cloud above me. It’s a lot of water.