How to Marry a Billionaire

by Elise Sax

  I slip and slide, as I go down the hill and decide to change direction and crawl down backward so that I don’t fall on my face.

  “I’m still coming, but I’m coming down backward!” I yell. I think I might hear his voice, but I can’t make out what he’s saying. “You’re not dead, right?” I call out. “Geez, this is a really big hill!”

  To be perfectly honest, if I wasn’t trying to save Cole, I would be pretty freaked out right now. There’s a good chance I’m never going to make it down this hill alive. The hillside is little more than mud, and it could come down any second and take me with it, burying me under tons of mud.

  The hill is also very big, and it’s taking me forever to get down it. In any normal circumstance, I would quit, but visions of Cole’s perfect face and body flash through my mind, and I keep going.

  “I’m not quitting!” I announce. “I will save you!”

  “Help!” I hear. Finally, I’m close enough to actually hear what Cole is saying.

  “Don’t worry! I’m coming! Ouch!”

  My hand hits a sharp rock, as I crawl, and I sit up to nurse it. But the movement messes up my balance, and I slide down the rest of the way on my back. It’s still a long way down, and by the time I get to the bottom, I hit something and my body flies up into the air, and I land with a hard thud onto my belly.

  Oomph! I hear.

  I feel my body for broken bones, but miraculously, besides my sprained ankle and scrapes and bruises, I’m in one piece.

  “I’m alive!” I shout into the storm.

  “Off…Please…Can’t breathe.”

  “Cole, is that you?” I feel around in the mud, and sure enough, there’s a bunch of muscular limbs underneath me. I crawl off Cole. “Are you okay?”

  Cole sits up and spits out a mouth full of mud. “Why didn’t you get help?” he demands.

  “What do you mean? I’m saving you. You cried help, and I’m helping you.”

  “No, I said, ‘Go get help.’ Go get help, not help. How on earth can you help? Are you going to carry me out of here? Are you going to climb up through the mud with me on your back?”

  I cross my arms in front of me, and I pout. “I guess I didn’t think that far.”

  “Surprise. Surprise.”

  “I resent your tone.”

  Cole slaps the mud next to him in frustration. “Now what are we going to do?”

  “You can’t walk?” I ask.

  “I’ve broken my leg,” he says.

  I gasp. “Are you sure? Maybe it’s just bruised.”

  “It’s broken,” he says between clenched teeth.

  “But…”

  “It’s broken.”

  “Sometimes, a sprain hurts more than a break, and so you think it’s a break, but it’s really a sprain,” I explain.

  “It’s broken.”

  “For instance, my ankle is sprained. I know because I’ve sprained it before, and this is exactly what a sprain feels like. It hurts real bad. Does your leg hurt real bad?”

  Cole sighs. “Beatrice, yes, my broken leg hurts real bad.”

  “We should call for help.”

  “With what? With this?” he asks holding up his smashed cellphone. He’s getting very testy with me.

  “Don’t get testy with me!” I yell. “I’m the hero in this scene, you know. I risked my life to save you. And that’s after you dumped me. You dumped me!”

  “You were after me for my money!” he yells. “You and your Operation Billionaire. You’re a leech! A parasite! I should have known. I let my guard down for one second, and I let a parasite get in. Well, I’m not going to be used. There’s plenty of rich guys out there for you, Beatrice. Take your pick. I can’t believe I was so stupid. All for a piece of ass.”

  I point at him. “I knew it. I knew it! A piece of ass. You just wanted a quickie romance. A wham bam, thank you ma’am. That’s what Hawaii was about. Admit it! Admit it!”

  “I made love to you for three hours straight. Three hours is not a quickie!”

  “I want three hours every night. For the rest of my life. I want…Oh, forget it.”

  Cole clutches my arm. “No. Tell me what you want,” he says. His voice has lost some of the anger and it’s been replaced with hope.

  “I thought we had something. You fell asleep.”

  “I what?”

  “In Hawaii,” I explain. “You fell asleep on the couch in my lap. I thought that you…forget it.”

  “You’re right. I did fall asleep. I felt comfortable last night. It felt so right with you. I wanted that forever, too, but you betrayed my trust, Beatrice. Ever since I made this money, people have been trying to use me. I can’t accept that from the woman I love.”

  There’s a flash of lightning and a loud crack of thunder.

  “What did you say?” I ask.

  “I said that people have been trying to use me since I became rich.”

  “No, not that part,” I say. “The part after that. Repeat that last bit.”

  “I don’t remember what I said.”

  “It was about the woman you… Come on, fill in the blank, Cole,” I urge.

  “I’m not going to say it,” he says.

  “Because you’re scared of my feelings?” I ask.

  As quickly as the storm began, it stops. There’s only the sound of our breathing and then after a moment, nature itself begins to regroup, and I can hear the sound of creatures moving out of their hiding places. I wipe the hair from my eyes and give Cole a good look. Even in the night, I can make out the sharp lines of his face, and I know that he’s clenching his jaw, holding onto emotion.

  Fear. I know it too well. I’ve been hurt so many times that I don’t want to risk being hurt again, but I’ve never experienced this, a man who’s afraid that I’m going to break his heart.

  “Your appliances are safe with me,” I tell Cole, softly. “I’ll never steal your panini press.”

  He puts his hand on my cheek and caresses it with his thumb. “My beautiful Beatrice. You came into my life like this storm and changed me. I don’t want to go to back to my life before I met you. How can I make you love me?”

  “Don’t you understand anything? I don’t care about your money. I don’t ever need to buy another Nobel Prize winner. I just want you. I love you. Now that I really am in love, I realize I never was in love before. This thing between us is different. This is hot sex plus a new best friend. This is falling asleep while watching Sylvester Stallone.”

  “And falling into volcanoes,” Cole says.

  “And falling into volcanoes,” I agree. I take a deep breath. “Cole Stevens, would you be my billionaire?”

  “Beatrice Hammersmith, I’d love to be your billionaire. Until death us do part.”

  “You probably shouldn’t say that, considering our luck.”

  “Come closer so I can kiss you,” he says. I scoot closer, and he lays one on me so hot that my clothes begin to dry.

  “What the hell are you two doing down there?” I hear Rock call from above, and a big light shines down on us.

  “We’re making out,” Cole calls back, shielding his eyes with his hand.

  “Are you injured?” Rock asks.

  “My leg is broken, and Beatrice sprained her ankle.”

  “I’ll get help,” Rock calls down.

  A few minutes later, he returns with emergency services, and Rock reaches us first, down a rope.

  “Are you guys back together?” Rock asks when he reaches us. “Because your mom wants a grandchild, and she’s eaten a lot of cheese in her life, you know.”

  “We’re back together,” Cole says, and I feel my heart swell, but in an in-love way, not a get-me-to-a-hospital way.

  “That’s good because Beatrice really loves you, Sprinkles,” Rock says. “She’s even thinking of getting a neck tattoo of your face.”

  “No, I’m not,” I say.

  “A little one,” Rock says.

  “Nope.”

  “A tas
teful one,” Rock says.

  I turn to Cole. “Never,” I say.

  “That’s okay,” Cole says. “We’ll have to figure out another way for you to express your love for me.”

  “I think he means a big fat ring,” Rocks tells me in a stage whisper.

  Boy, is Rosalind going to be proud of me.

  Chapter 17

  Beatrice

  “Then what happened?” Olivia asks, as the doctor puts a cast on my foot.

  “Then I sprained my ankle,” I say.

  “Broken, not sprained,” the doctor says.

  “Right,” I say. “I broke my ankle. Cole’s leg is sprained.”

  Cole walks in. He has a brace on one leg, and he’s walking with a cane. “A bad sprain,” he corrects me.

  “Right. A bad sprain. I just have a simple break.”

  “Rock says you proposed. Did you?” Rosalind asks him.

  “Beatrice proposed. I accepted.”

  “Women power. I love it,” Rosalind says. She sits down on a chair. “Well, this was a great success. One down, two to go. The next one should be easier. Olivia’s got her sights on Rock, and he’s hired her to be his personal assistant.”

  Cole laughs. “Olivia’s not going to pin down Rock, especially not with four kids.”

  I don’t say anything, but I’m feeling pretty optimistic about Olivia’s chances. It might be because I’m deliriously happy and in love or it might be because I was given some kickass pharmaceutical-grade pain killers by the doctor.

  We get married sitting down on the couch in Cole’s house. It’s an intimate gathering of the preacher, the Operation Billionaire group, and Rock. Cole and I are still recovering from our accident, but we decided to say our vows now and have a party later on.

  Because Bessie says she’s eaten a lot of cheese in her life.

  One last time, I let Olivia and Rosalind do me up in gobs of makeup and my hair up with flowers in it. I’m wearing a short white dress, and I’m barefoot since my feet are up on the coffee table because the doctor told me I need to keep them elevated.

  I feel guilty because I won’t be helping out Olivia catch her man, but Rosalind tells me she has it covered with Diane. I try not to feel guilty.

  Guilty or not, I can’t stop feeling happy. Since our accident, Cole and I haven’t left each other’s side. We constantly touch each other and hold hands, probably because we’re afraid the other is going to disappear or have some kind of life-threatening accident.

  I can’t get enough of him, and I can’t wait to start our life together.

  The preacher asks everyone to sit, and he begins the ceremony. Olivia interrupts and whispers something in his ear. “Are you sure?” he asks her, and she nods and giggles.

  “Okay. Here it goes. Beatrice Hammersmith, do you take this billionaire to be your lawfully wedded husband?” he asks.

  She nods. “I do.”

  “Do you, Cole Stevens, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, even though she’s not a billionaire?”

  He nods. “I do.”

  “Do you have the ring?” the preacher asks.

  “Yes,” Cole says and pulls something from underneath the couch and hands it to me. “I love you, Beatrice.” It’s a waffle maker. It’s the top of the line stainless steel model from Germany. “It plugs in,” Cole explains.

  “It’s perfect.”

  “Wait until you see the coffeemaker,” he says. “Is it done, pastor? Are we hitched? Can I kiss her, now?”

  “I’m so confused,” the preacher says.

  “Kiss her,” Bessie urges. “Let’s get those grandchildren started.”

  And don’t forget to sign up for the newsletter for new releases and special deals: http://www.elisesax.com/mailing-list.php

  Download a copy of Olivia’s story in How to Marry Another Billionaire.

  Turn the page for a glimpse into Going Down, book 1 of the Five Wishes Series.

  Going Down Excerpt

  CHAPTER 1

  I clutch my lucky silver dollar firmly in my hand. I don’t want to give it up, but this wish is really important, and I can’t leave it up to chance.

  I’m down to my last two hundred bucks. I’m a month behind in my rent, and I’m in pain from giving myself my own bikini wax in order to save money. Nothing can get between me and this wish coming true.

  The wishing fountain is in the center of town, right next to my apartment. In fact, I can see it from my bedroom window, but this is the first time that I’m trying it out. I’ve been saving up my wish for when I’m desperate. And boy, am I desperate.

  It’s the ugliest fountain I’ve ever seen, bone dry with just a few coins, dirt, and a used condom at its bottom. But it’s famous for its wishes. I’m not crazy to believe in it. It has a long history as a wishing fountain. It’s been on the news. Katie Couric. Oprah.

  I focus on my wish, pull my arm back, and release the coin.

  Please let me get this role.

  Please let me ace this audition.

  With my wish out into the universe, I shut my eyes and throw the silver dollar into the fountain. It lands on the cracked plaster, making a loud clanking sound in the town square.

  A breeze blows, which I take as a good sign. I swear I feel different, like I’m infused with good luck. I sure need some good luck. I open my eyes, half expecting an angel to appear, or at the very least, a leprechaun.

  But I’m on my own. The sleepy little town of Esperanza isn’t exactly bustling with people on its busiest day, and today it’s particularly dead.

  I step down from the fountain and go on my way. I don’t have to go far. Just across the street to the diner, which is located on the bottom floor of my apartment building.

  Built in the 1950’s, the building is no-frills and covered in pink stucco. There are twelve units and four flights. I’m on the top floor, next to the landlord.

  This location has its good points and its drawbacks. I get woken up every morning with the smell of fresh coffee brewing from the diner downstairs, which is a good point. However, I’m also tempted to eat a slice of Mack’s homemade cherry pie to go along with it, which is a drawback.

  And that’s the other plus and drawback: Mack.

  I open the door to the diner, making the bell ring. The diner is enjoying a lull in the day, that time between breakfast and lunch where everyone is busy at work or at home. Mack is wiping off a table but looks up when I enter.

  “Sit anywhere,” he says.

  I take a seat by the window. Without having to order, Mack fills my mug with coffee. He looks like he does every day. He’s a scruffy, thirty-something guy with perfect bone structure, thick dark hair, and blue eyes that will laser beam right through any woman directly to her uterus.

  “I got pie,” he says.

  “I don’t want pie. I’m an actress. Actresses don’t eat pie.”

  “You’re an actress?”

  “You know that I’m an actress. So no more out of you.”

  At least I’m trying to be an actress. I’ve never actually gotten a job, but I’ve taken three classes, and a casting agent, who I met while shopping at The Gap, told me at the pocket tee table that I have what it takes to become a star.

  “How about a sandwich?” Mack asks.

  “I have to be skinny.”

  “You are skinny. You’ve got no ass, no boobs, and your collarbones are sticking out.”

  “I do too have boobs.” It’s true. I do have boobs. I’m a 36C, which is huge on my small, five-foot-two frame. I don’t know what he’s talking about. Is he blind?

  Mack takes a step back and studies me. Most specifically, he studies my chest. He cocks his head to the side and squints, as if he’s having a really hard time finding my cleavage.

  It’s not hard to find. I’m wearing a tank top and a push up bra. I’m the queen of cleavage. I’m cleavage and nothing else. I could signal ships at sea with my breasts.

  He shrugs. “Yeah, maybe you do have boobs. But last tim
e I looked, you don’t have an ass.”

  “What the hell do you know? You don’t understand what Hollywood wants. I need to be skinny.”

  “Okay. Okay. How about a salad?”

  “No! Salad will bloat me.”

  “So, you’ll fart. Problem solved.”

  “Mack, you don’t understand. Being an actress is very demanding.”

  He plops down on the chair across from me and leans forward. His eyes are big and they suddenly turn dark and focus entirely on me. My heart does a little hiccup, which I try to ignore, but Mack always has this effect on me. If he was on the menu, he would be the house special. Delicious and probably very bad for my health.

  “I’m not going to leave here without feeding you,” he says. “I’m sure Meryl Streep eats.”

  “Nobody cares about Meryl Streep. They care about Angelina Jolie, and she doesn’t eat.”

  At least I don’t think so. I mean, she’s awfully skinny. No bloat there.

  “What the hell do you mean nobody cares about Meryl Streep? Deer Hunter? Sophie’s Choice?” he says, counting on his fingers.

  “Tomb Raider, Mr. & Mrs. Smith,” I counter, sticking my fingers in his face. Mack shakes his head.

  “Even skinny Angelina Jolie eats,” he says, obviously annoyed with me.

  “No, she doesn’t.”

  “If I have to shove the food down your throat, that’s what I’m going to do.”

  “That’s charming, Mack. Violence against women. Not your most attractive quality.”

  Mack grins and raises an eyebrow. He drags his chair on the linoleum floor and puts it down next to me. He sits down so close that his knees graze my legs. I clamp my mouth closed, in case he really is going to shove food down my throat. But I’m not exactly scared. First of all, I’m hungry. Hungrier than Angelina Jolie. Second of all, Mack’s chest is stretching the fabric of his t-shirt, making my hormones do the Take Me Mambo.

  His hair is so thick and gorgeous. I’m sorely tempted to run my fingers through it, but I hold myself back. I hate that I’m so attracted to him. He’s a gruff, contemptuous man. A confirmed bachelor, who I’m sure doesn’t even like women. I mean, he’s never been nice to me.