The Billionaire's Email-Order Bride

by Vivi Holt

  The paramedic’s eyes narrowed, and he straightened. Then pointed toward the group of onlookers hovering around the edges of the car lot. “I don’t know. I was told the owner called it in. Maybe she’s over there.”

  Eve’s eyelids fluttered, then opened. She stared up at the paramedic and opened her mouth to speak but no words came out.

  “You’re okay, Eve,” said the man. “You’ve been in a fire, but your husband pulled you out. Can you speak?”

  Eve’s gaze flitted to John’s face and her eyes darkened. Then, she returned her attention to the paramedic and nodded. When she opened her mouth, there was still no sound.

  “Never mind, don’t worry about it. We’re going to take you to the hospital in the ambulance, Eve. Okay?”

  The other man returned with a bottle of oxygen and a mask that he placed over Eve’s mouth. John stooped down beside her and took her hand in his, squeezing it gently. She looked at him, tears pooling in the corners of her eyes.

  “You’re going to be fine,” he said, patting her hand.

  Her brow furrowed, and she tugged the mask away from her mouth. “Petra…” she whispered.

  He frowned. “I think she’s over there. I’m sure she’s okay. You just focus on getting better. Okay?” He gestured with one hand toward the bedraggled group. Then, he stroked her cheek, pushing her hair away from her forehead and tucking it behind one ear.

  Eve nodded. “Please check on her…”

  John stood to his feet with a sharp intake of breath. “Okay, I’ll find her. Then I’ll meet you at the hospital. Okay?”

  Eve’s mouth curved at the edges in response.

  As the paramedics rolled Eve onto a stretcher, John marched toward the group of protesters. When he reached them, he scanned the group, quickly realizing he wouldn’t recognize Petra even if he saw her.

  “Excuse me?” he began. “I’m looking for someone called Petra. Has anyone seen her?”

  There were a few murmurs and a couple of women standing side by side shook their heads.

  “Thanks.” He set his hands on his hips and surveyed the building. It was smoldering now. Smoke still sailed skyward in wisps and puffs, but the fire was out. He studied it through narrowed eyes, letting his gaze wander across the lot. The ambulance with Eve in the back of it pulled onto Peachtree Street.

  Just then another two ambulances pulled into the car lot, sirens wailing and lights flashing. They stopped close by, and shut off the sirens, just as paramedics jumped out.

  The first paramedic strode toward a fireman who looked to be in charge. He was calling out orders, pointing this way and that, sending firemen running. They murmured together, and the fireman pointed to a couple of people stretched out on a small section of lawn on the edge of the car lot.

  The paramedic waved to his partner, and the two of them jogged toward the prone patients. Maybe Petra was over there.

  John headed toward the fireman who was still giving orders. First, he should make sure they knew Petra was still missing. Just in case the paramedic was wrong, and she hadn’t gotten out in time.

  “Excuse me?”

  The man faced him with a frown. “Yes?”

  “I’m looking for the restaurant’s owner, a woman called Petra. Have you seen her?”

  He nodded. “I remember someone by that name. I think I spoke to her when we got here. Not sure where she ended up though.”

  “Thanks.”

  The paramedics were headed for their vehicles now. Each pair had a patient strapped to a stretcher and were wheeling them across the uneven tarmac. He hustled to meet them.

  “Hi, I’m looking for Petra,” he called.

  One paramedic waved a gloved hand. “She’s right here.”

  John hurried to her side. She lay still on the gurney, an oxygen mask fixed over her mouth.

  “Petra?” he asked.

  Her eyes fluttered open and she nodded slightly.

  “Petra, I’m John. I’m Eve’s husband. She wanted me to look for you and make sure you’re all right.”

  Another nod, then the eyes shut again.

  “Is she okay?” he asked the paramedics, his gaze flitting back and forth between them.

  “Smoke inhalation. She’ll be fine. We’ve got to get her to the hospital for some tests just to make sure.”

  John nodded. “Okay. Thanks.”

  Petra struggled to sit, only making it halfway. As the paramedics pushed her stretcher into the back of the vehicle, she tugged the mask from her mouth.

  “I tried to go back for her,” she whispered hoarsely. “There was too much smoke. Is she…?”

  John smiled. “She’s going to be fine. She’s on her way to the hospital now, I’m heading there too.”

  Petra’s shoulders sagged with relief. “Tell her I’m sorry.”

  “What for?” he asked.

  A shadow passed over the woman’s face. “For this. For not looking after everything the way I should’ve.”

  He nodded, his lips pursed. “I will.”

  John climbed into his car and reversed in a tight circle. The lot was packed now with vehicles, people milling about, curious onlookers. He peered out through the back window, watching as the restaurant’s roof collapsed with a great crash and rush of hot air and tendrils of fire leapt into the air through the opening. His heart thundered and sweat cooled his forehead. Then he pushed the gear shift into drive and focused his attention on the drive.

  At the hospital, he found Eve in the Emergency Room. She’d regained some of her color and was lying on a bed with her eyes shut.

  John reached for her hand and her eyes blinked open at his touch.

  “You’re here,” she whispered.

  He nodded and patted her hand. “Of course. You’re looking much better. And by the way, Petra’s fine. She’s on her way to the hospital as well. Most likely she’s already here,” he said.

  Her eyes squeezed shut and a single tear pushed free to sit on her cheek. He smiled, and stroked her cheek, wiping the tear away. “Everything’s fine. You’re gonna be okay, and I’m not leaving your side.”

  She nodded and pressed her fingers gently against his. His throat tightened. He could’ve lost her. No one but Petra knew she was in the back of the restaurant, and it seemed Petra had been overwhelmed by smoke. If he hadn’t been there or hadn’t called her…he shook his head, unable to consider the possibilities.

  Chapter 15

  Eve pressed both hands to the arms of the wheelchair and grimaced.

  “I can walk, you know. I don’t need this thing.”

  John chuckled. “You don’t have a choice. You can walk as soon as we get home but, until then, you’ll just have to put up with being taken care of.”

  She frowned and crossed her arms over her chest. “Fine. But I really think it’s ridiculous. I only had mild smoke inhalation and a little bitty concussion, and that was two days ago. Everyone’s acting as though I’ll break or something.”

  He sighed, leaned forward, and kissed the top of her head. Her heart skipped a beat. “Shush.”

  She half-smiled up at him, her lips pursed. He pushed the wheelchair forward along the hall and out through the hospital’s front doors. They’d filled out a mountain of paperwork after the doctors had performed a litany of tests on her, then re-did them at John’s insistence. She was in good health and felt better than she had since John pulled her from the burning restaurant. Even though she hated to admit it, her legs were still a little weak when she stood, and it felt good to have John push her to the car.

  “What’s the first thing you’d like to do now that you’re a free woman?” he asked, bending close so his breath was hot on her ear.

  She laughed. “I’d really love a hamburger and fries. The food in the hospital was great, but…”

  “It was horrible, you can say it.”

  “They have a lot to contend with—large numbers of clients, a short time period to prepare meals, dietary requirements…”

  He lau
ghed as he opened the car door. “Yeah, yeah. I get it. But still…”

  “Yep, horrible.” She chuckled. “Hi, Hector.”

  Hector stood by the car door, his cap pulled low over his brow. He smiled widely. “Good afternoon Mrs. Russo. I hope you’re feeling better today. Josie and I have been praying for your recovery.”

  Her throat tightened and she laid a hand on Hector’s arm with a gentle squeeze. “Thank you, Hector. It’s good to see you again.”

  Inside the car, soft music enveloped her along with the fresh scent of pine and lemon. The leather seat covers squeaked beneath her, and she laid her hair against the head rest with a sigh, squeezing her eyes shut. “Ah…it’s good to be headed home. I’ve missed it.”

  When she opened her eyes, John was seated beside her with a misty look on his face. “You called the condo ‘home.’”

  She straightened with a frown. “Well, it is home. Isn’t it?”

  He nodded and reached for her hand. His fingers threaded through hers. “Yes, it is. But it’s just nice to hear you say it. Sometimes I wonder…” His eyes met hers. “Never mind. I’m glad you’re coming home too. I’ve missed having you there. It’s been very quiet.”

  What had he been about to say? Did he want to discuss their future? It was on her mind as well. When she’d started down this path as Mrs. Eve Russo, she’d only ever intended it to last twelve months. He knew that. Didn’t he? Maybe they should talk about it. Though she hated the idea of bringing up a subject that could cause friction right when the two of them were getting along so well.

  “Did you get the flowers from my hospital room?” she asked.

  He nodded. “Hector brought them down while we were filling out forms. It was nice of your friends to visit. I’m glad you got to see Petra. She seems to feel really bad about what happened.”

  Eve nodded, then faced the window, watching as buildings, intersections, and street lamps flitted by. “I’m glad she got out okay.” She faced him with a wan smile. “And I’m even more glad you came to get me. Without you…”

  He leaned closer, his green eyes fixed on hers. Her heart jittered in her chest at the intensity of his gaze. She hadn’t noticed the flecks of yellow around the black of his irises, or the small crinkles on the corners of his eyes that deepened toward his thick, brown hair as a lazy smile crept across his face.

  “What?” he asked, his eyes darkening at the look on her face.

  “Nothing.” She grinned sheepishly, feeling like a teenager.

  He was her husband. She could look at him. Couldn’t she? But then why was her heart thundering so loudly and her palms perspiring?

  He looped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side. It was warm there, and his strength helped her feel strong again, though her insides still quaked at the memory of the fire and her attempts to quench it and find Petra.

  “So, where should we get those hamburgers?” he asked as though sensing her need for distraction.

  “Can we order in?” she asked, suddenly exhausted by the trek from the hospital bed to the car.

  He nodded. “Sure.”

  “I just want to be home with you.”

  His arm tightened around her shoulders and she leaned her head against his chest, setting one hand over his heart. It beat steadily beneath her palm, his pulse comforting.

  She didn’t know what the future held for the two of them. But for now, there wasn’t anywhere else in the world she’d rather be.

  “Are you ready to go?” called John from the living room.

  In the bedroom, Eve fussed with a pair of emerald earrings he’d given her when they got home from the hospital. They were gold, with diamonds and pure emeralds. She’d never worn anything so expensive in her life before.

  Her fingers trembled as she fixed them to her earlobes. What if she lost one? It could happen. So many earrings had simply fallen from her ears and been trampled underfoot over the years, she’d lost count. She set both hands on the bed and inhaled deeply, then reached for her purse where it lay on the comforter in front of her.

  She’d set her wedding and engagement rings on the bathroom counter when she’d taken a shower. The emptiness where they should’ve been prompted her memory, and she hurried to slip them on.

  “Coming!”

  She’d been home for a month and was feeling as strong as she ever had. John had called from work to tell her he was taking her out for dinner and a movie that evening. It was Friday night, after all, he’d said. Wasn’t that what married couples did?

  She didn’t know. They hadn’t made a habit of it yet. But she was looking forward to getting out of the apartment. Since Pickles burned to the ground, she was back to having nowhere to go during the day, and it was already driving her crazy. John had returned to work three weeks earlier, and she found herself counting down the hours until he got home.

  She shook her head as she walked down the hall. She was becoming the pathetic, bored housewife she’d never wanted to be. There must be something she could do about it—get a hobby, take up a sport…anything. She’d have to think about it later though since now she was going out on a date with her husband and she couldn’t remember a time when she was so filled with nervous excitement about a dinner date.

  Hector had finished work for the night when he brought John home earlier, so John drove. She sat in the passenger seat of his silver Porsche, her hands crossed in her lap.

  Every time she glanced in his direction, the desire to lay one hand on his thigh grew stronger. It was a natural thing to do, completely normal for a wife and her husband. Still, she couldn’t bring herself to take that step. It meant something, something she wasn’t willing to admit to—that their relationship was more than companionship, more than an arrangement.

  “I made reservations at Catfish. Is that okay?”

  “Seafood?”

  “Southern,” he clarified.

  “Sounds good to me. I love Southern.”

  He grinned in her direction as he spun the steering wheel to round a corner, the engine growling. “I’m happy to hear that.”

  She laughed.

  “Do you consider yourself a Southerner these days?” she asked, her hand still itching to touch him.

  “I do. My New York accent is basically gone.”

  “I hate to break it to you, buddy, but it’s not.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “What?”

  She chuckled. “You’re still a New Yorker, at least you sound like one. You can’t lose the accent that easily, it’s such a strong one. Although yours is definitely much softer than most New Yorkers, it’s just the way you pronounce your vowels mostly. You don’t have the southern drawl.”

  He frowned. “I’ll have to work on that then, I guess. And is your accent a Brisbane one?”

  She sighed. “My accent could be from anywhere. It doesn’t work the same way in Australia, you can’t always tell where someone is from by the way they speak.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah, some members of my family, from the same area as me, have a really heavy, bogan accent.”

  “Bogan?”

  “It’s what we call red-necks Down Under.”

  He laughed and ran a hand over his mouth. “Okay. But you don’t sound bogan.”

  “Nope. That’s what I mean—you can have different accents within the same family, the same street. It’s not like here.”

  “Good to know. You don’t talk about your family much. I’d love to hear about them. You’ve already met mine.”

  She grimaced and faced the window. “Not much to tell.”

  The last thing she wanted to discuss with him was her family. The less he knew about them the better for everyone involved. Her dad was one thing, he'd always been her rock. But her mother and sister were another matter entirely. Her mother’s tongue could build you up in one moment, then pulled you crashing down in the next. And Eve had trusted her sister once, and had regretted it every day since. No, it was better to keep John and her fam
ily separate for as long as she possibly could.

  She felt his eyes on her back, but he didn’t say anything more. When they arrived at the restaurant, he took her hand in his to walk to their table. Their hands swung back and forth together with each stride, and she couldn’t wipe the happy smile from her face. Nor could she ignore the looks thrown their way.

  She drew closer to John. “Why is everyone looking at us?” she whispered.

  He chuckled softly. “I guess they’re wondering who you are since most of them know me and for some reason the press hasn’t gotten wind of you yet.”

  “The hostess showed them to a table where they sat across from each other. Eve waited patiently while the hostess placed napkins on their laps and showed them menus. Then she met John’s gaze with one of interest. “I still find it strange that so many people know who you are.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “I guess it’s just because I’m in the news every now and then. It’s not a big deal.”

  Eve frowned. He was successful and well-regarded in Atlanta. But somehow, the idea that he was something of a celebrity was still difficult to grasp.

  “It’s so weird you’re famous.”

  “I’m no Kardashian, but some folks in Atlanta know who I am. That doesn’t mean to say they’re going to wait on the curb for me to sign an autograph.” He chuckled to himself as he looked over the menu.

  She scanned the restaurant, noting one or two lingering looks and furtive glances from women scattered around the room. He’d been one of the most eligible bachelors in town, no doubt, until she came along. Her cheeks warmed.

  They chatted until their waitress came to take their order. Eve asked for chicken and dumplings, and John ordered chicken fried steak. She couldn’t wait to see what the food was like, if the way it looked on the plates being delivered to patrons all around them was any indication, it would be delicious. Southern food with a modern twist. It was something close to her heart to take classic recipes and turn them into a delectable, modern, and unique feast for both the eyes and the stomach.

  As soon as their orders had been taken, John moved into the chair next to hers. He scooted in closer to her and laced his fingers through hers. Her heart thudded, and her skin tingled at his touch, sending a trail of goose pimples up both arms.