The Billionaire's Marriage: A Romance Novel

by Marshall, Marnie

  The Billionaire’s Marriage

  A Romance Novel

  By

  Marnie Marshall

  CHAPTER 1

  ~ EDWARD ~

  "G'mornin Daddy."

  Blue eyes peer at me from just over the edge of the bed, mere inches from my face. The loveliest eyes to wake up to in the morning, save his mother's. I bring my finger to my lips.

  "Shh, Ryan, don't wake Mommy." I roll back, my right hand feeling across the sheets, but the other side of the bed is empty. Shit. In her even-more-clumsy-than-usual state, how does she manage to do that?

  "Mommy say Daddy UP!" Ryan informs me, pulling himself up on the bed by his dimpled elbows.

  "Oh she did, did she?" I yank my little miniature into my arms, tickling him mercilessly. He squeals and wiggles, feet kicking out. Stopping before his face turns too pink, I clutch him to my chest, breathing in his baby scent. My son. My beautiful boy, the light of my life. "Good morning, baby boy."

  Ryan pushes off my chest and glares at me, his eyebrows wrinkled. "I not baby! Big brudder!" He bounces up and down on my bladder on every word to drive the message home.

  I laugh, which is no better for my full bladder than the bouncing. I lift my son about the waist and plop him down beside me, trying and ultimately failing to look contrite. "Yes, you're a big boy. And you'll be a big brother soon, we've talked about this, remember? Soon, not yet." I kiss his chubby cheek.

  ~oOo~

  Krissy has Ryan in his chair at the breakfast bar. His face is smeared liberally with peanut butter, and squares of toast are strewn across his area of the counter. How he manages to miss his mouth is beyond me; the boy loves to eat. Krissy is leaning, as best she can with her ever-expanding belly, over the counter, making faces at our son. She's so beautiful, hair twirled and pinned, a few stray tendrils framing her face, her curves hugged by her gray flannel dress. She must have a meeting this morning, I suppose. She's preoccupied and oblivious to my musings, and I snake my arms around her from behind, my hands coming to rest on our growing daughter.

  "Oh!" Krissy jumps a bit, then relaxes into my arms. "Good morning, Daddy."

  I smile into her neck, placing a soft kiss against her warm skin. She smells heavenly. "Good morning to you, Mommy. How did you sleep?"

  "Not as well as you did," she giggles, turning in my hold to wrap her arms about my neck. She rises on her toes, rounded belly pressing into me, and plants a lingering kiss on my lips. Her rounded breasts brush my chest, sending waves of need southward. I taste peanut butter and a hint of blueberry. Good, she's eaten, my mind changes gear. One less thing to worry over. Krissy is so right to label me mercurial, as she does so often. It never ceases to shock me how I can go from carnal need to protector/provider mode in the blink of an eye. I'd never have paid mind to most of my tendencies without her. "You were so out," she says. "Did you enjoy your wake-up-call?"

  "I did." I slide my hands downward to clutch her behind as my thoughts take their previous turn. She kisses me once more.

  "No antics this morning, Mr. King," she chides me, bringing her hands down to my chest and fastening my top button. "I have to go, can you finish up with him? Gail called, she's going to be a little late."

  I glance out our back window at the clouds rolling in over the sound. My stomach clenches briefly, and I bury the urge to insist she stay home today. We've had far too many squabbles about her safety and my control-freakishness, and at the end she's upset and I'm angry, and then she's angry and I'm upset. Never a pleasant way to start things, even on the occasion I get my way. Turning back to my wife, I nod, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "All right." I bend and kiss her belly as well. "Wear your jacket, it's looking nasty outside."

  "I promise." She fingers my hair lovingly, then trundles off to brush her teeth.

  My son had managed to gobble up the last of his toast, making my job that much easier. I dab a washcloth over his face and hands, eliminating the sticky mess. His shirt was another story entirely. The bib remained largely unspattered. Oh, little boys and their organized chaos. I tossed the bib onto the counter and managed to pull the shirt over his head without redressing his face with peanut butter; it joined the bib in a pile. Ryan raised his arms to me and I lifted him, settling him on my hip.

  "Wish me luck!" Krissy breathes, re-entering the kitchen. She plants a kiss on Ryan's cheek, and then pecks my lips. My free arm captures her, pulling her to me. Even in her rush to get out the door, she's breathtaking. Her eyes are wide, her face flushed with hurry, but she fits herself to my side and I lower my lips to hers, our tongues greeting one another. Her minty breath joins mine, and we lose ourselves in the moment.

  "Mommy!" Ryan gasps. The indignation on his face is comical, and Krissy giggles, breaking us apart. It's one of the loveliest sounds in the world. She puckers her lips at him, Ryan leans forward in my arms and gives her a loud, smacking peck.

  "I love my boys," she tells us, adjusting the jacket over her arm.

  "We love you, too," I say. God, I love her, so very much. "Good luck today, baby."

  "Love, Mommy!" Ryan bellows, and Krissy blows him a kiss. Sawyer holds the front door for her, and they're off.

  And I'm left with the task of dressing my son. Again. With any luck, he'll remain semi-clean until Gail arrives. I sigh... in two more months, there will be twice as many little clothes to change. And I'll love every minute of it.

  ~ KRISSY ~

  "Thanks, Hannah."

  "Sure thing, Boss." My assistant bows out, arms laden with folders.

  Boss. A title I both love and hate, and love to hate. The past two years as CEO of King Publishing have been a whirlwind, a learning experience, and a train wreck, but a profitable one at that. Actually, everything runs quite smoothly, thanks in great part to the mix of veterans on my leadership team; it's me who's the closet train wreck. Most days I'd love to give it all up and play editor again, but there are some things that make this all worth doing, not the least of which is Edward's overwhelming pride and respect for me. I wouldn't be here if it weren't for him, and a handful of overwhelmingly talented writers would likely be lost in "The Pile" if it weren't for my position, so the value of what I do outstrips my occasional disdain for all things Executive. Hannah sneaks me the occasional manuscript to mark up, bless her, so it makes the mundane business side of things a bit less stressful. I'm not sure what I'll do when she leaves to pursue her Master's Degree later this summer.

  Post-meeting mental rant over, I sip my tea and log into my computer. There are four emails from editors, an event reminder from the ever-invaluable Jerry Roach, my right hand, and of course, an email from Edward. I smile.

  IIIII IIIII IIIII IIIII IIIII IIIII IIIII IIIII IIIII IIIII IIIII

  From: Edward King

  Subject: This Evening

  Date: June 19 2014 10:27

  To: Kristina King

  Krissy,

  I thought of something after you left. I'd like to discuss it with you over dinner. Gail has graciously volunteered Sophie to entertain our son when she arrives this afternoon.

  Is this agreeable?

  Hope your meeting went well.

  xx

  Edward King

  CEO, King Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

  IIIII IIIII IIIII IIIII IIIII IIIII IIIII IIIII IIIII IIIII IIIII

  His formality makes my eyebrows furrow. It was like he went straight for the point, and then did the hot coals dance around it. He probably thinks I won't like it, whatever it is. And he's arranged for Ryan to be away, so he either thinks he's going to seduce me into whatever it is he wants, or whatever it is, I'll be upset, and he doesn't like for Ryan to s
ee either of us upset. We've quarreled about that last part several times, too. Outright fighting in front of a child is one thing entirely, but sheltering Ryan from negative emotions could confuse him later. I sense another long discussion over this differing of our opinions on the horizon.

  My phone rings.

  "King," I answer.

  "Hello, baby."

  Now I'm jolted. "Edward," I try, and fail, to hide the surprise in my voice. "I just read your email."

  He sighs. "I hope you're not overthinking it." He knows me too well, but if I know him equally, he's running his fingers through his hair.

  "And... you're running your fingers through your hair."

  He snorts. "Guilty." I hear the half-smile in his voice. "Please don't overthink it; if you say no, then that's that. I promise I won't push the issue. Just give it some thought, please."

  The dance continues. I wish he'd just get to the point. "What issue is there to push?" I press him. "Come on, love. Out with it."

  "Not now. Later." The command returns to his voice.

  I sigh, exasperated. "Fine. But it's your fault if I don't get anything done today. I'll have it on my mind until you tell me, whatever it is."

  "Duly noted." There's a pause.

  "Can I get back to work now, Sir?"

  He laughs. "Of course, Mrs. King. I'll see you at home."

  I smirk. "I love you, Edward."

  "I love you too, Krissy."

  There's another pause.

  "Hang up, Edward," I order.

  "I don't want to."

  "Me neither."

  Another pause.

  "Count of three?" I suggest.

  "As you wish, Mrs. King."

  I giggle. "One..."

  "Two..."

  "Three."

  We're such teenagers sometimes.

  ~oOo~

  "Thank you Sawyer," I say as he helps me into the back seat. I don't think I'll ever be entirely used to having staff waiting on me every minute of the day, but I am grateful for Sawyer. At the very least, he makes climbing into vehicles far less awkward.

  Sawyer nods, closes my door, and climbs into the front passenger seat. He's still uncomfortable with appreciation, but that doesn't stop me from expressing mine.

  Ryan pulls out into traffic, and I slump back into the leather seat, rubbing the stretched-tight skin over my belly. It's hard to believe I'm going to get bigger, but I am. I was positively cetacean with Ryan. My head rolls to the right, and my eyes unfocus, objects passing in a blur, mingled with the raindrops clinging and streaking from the tinted window.

  Just beyond, two bright lights pause.

  Glass. Splintering.

  I can't hear.

  Wet.

  It doesn't hurt.

  Cold. Creeping.

  Dark.

  CHAPTER 2

  ~ EDWARD ~

  "No." My steepled hands at my lips; the conference room falls silent. I take my time uprighting myself from the reclinable leather desk chair. My hands move to clasp one another in front of me, and I consider the state of my fingernails, my wedding band glinting off the recessed halogens. "Our position must remain that of observation. They want us, of that we can be certain. Argyle's board wants to stay together, and they have the best chance of that with us. They're astute and talented people. We have to be patient, let them come to us." I sit back again. "If there is no contact by close of business Wednesday next, we'll revisit."

  Lois starts to open her mouth, but thinks better of it. She lowers her eyes, her blonde curls falling forward. I greatly value her stance on all GEH matters, it more often opposes my own, and strangely enough, I like that. Far greater options on various dealings have been presented since she came to join the board. But she knows when to shut the hell up, and I appreciate that ever more.

  "Sir." Taylor's voice interrupts from the doorway. My eyes are still flitting among the nine other pairs seated at my table.

  "Yes, Taylor."

  "We need to go, Sir. Now."

  His tone is off. It's rare for Jason Taylor to interrupt a meeting, and unheard of for him to issue any hint of a command in my direction. My eyes fly to his. Taylor's face is tight, ashen.

  "Take over, Ros." My voice remains even. My legs obey. My heart pounds unsteadily, and we're in the elevator. Taylor pushes the button labeled G. I see the wood-paneled doors slide closed, feel us drop. "Well?" My throat closes, every nerve ending on fire.

  The pause is unbearable. "It's Mrs. King, Sir. There was an accident. She's pretty bad. Ryan just called from the ER... he said both she and Sawyer were taken to surgery.

  Oh. Dear. God. No. "The baby?" I choke.

  "I don't know, Sir."

  Kill me. Kill me now. My legs give out and I slump against the mirrored elevator wall as the door opens on the garage level. I don't care that Taylor is supporting me as I stumble to the waiting SUV. I don't even care that he gets into the backseat with me. My heart hurts. It hurts.

  "I want to drive," I struggle against him, but I'm weak and unsteady. I need to get to her.

  "I can't let you, Sir. Owen knows the way."

  I want to scream. My hands shake. Then my shoulders, my face is wet. No, she can't see me cry. I drag my fingers across my cheeks.

  "Dr. Treveylan, I have him. We're on our way. Yes, ma'am. I understand." Taylor clicks his phone off. "Your mother will meet us at the rear entrance."

  I'm only vaguely aware that Taylor is talking, much less talking to me. Krissy. Hang on, baby, I'm coming. Just hold on. "My mother?"

  "Yes, Sir. She was on duty when Mrs. King was brought in."

  Krissy. Oh God, please let her be okay. Let her live. Let the baby live. God please...

  "Sir, we're here." Taylor grips my shoulder, and I stumble after him.

  "Edward!" my mother's arm is around my waist, pulling me forward.

  "Mom..." I can't form words. I just let her take me; take me to Krissy, to the other half of my soul.

  She pulls me into an elevator, but doesn't release me. We get out on some floor, and she pulls me along again. She hasn't said anything. Why hasn't she told me? Oh it's bad. It must be... God, please...

  She stops briefly to sign something, and pulls me into a room. It's small, low-lit, there's an ugly vinyl sofa and chairs. I freeze. This is the room they take you to when they have to tell you someone died.

  I was in a room like this once, long ago... and suddenly, a haze fills me, a numb, care-not fog. It's blissfully temperate, and I wonder why I'm here. Then everything crashes in again, the stabbing pain returns to my chest. "I've lost them," I whisper. My knees make contact with the sterile tile.

  Mom grips my shoulders, hard. "Oh Edward," she chokes a sob. "Krissy's still holding on. But..."

  My Krissy! She's... but that means... "My daughter..."

  She pauses for an eternity, her hand over her mouth. "I'm so, so sorry, darling."

  This can't be happening. It can't be... "No... no no no no nononononono..."

  Mom holds me, but I just can't bear it any longer. I push her away as gently as I can manage, falling back, wrapping my arms around my knees. My wife may still die... my child, my poor, poor baby girl will never open her eyes upon the world. My family is falling apart...

  "Ryan?" I blurt out, despair turning to panic.

  "Gail has him, Sir. He's just fine. Carter is with them."

  Taylor's still here. I hadn't noticed. I press my forehead to my bruised kneecaps, willing this all to be a terrible nightmare, and not the reality it surely is.

  Time passes. My father is there, my brother, my sister, they sit by me in turn. I hear the word 'breakdown' uttered. I can't look at them, can't see them. Mom leaves, and my fists clench. She'd only leave for an update, and my aching heart rips open, fresh in the agony of waiting to hear my dear Krissy's fate.

  "She's still stable, Edward," her voice soothes me, and I choke on another sob, curling into myself once again.

  "Edward."

  That voic
e rattles my anguish briefly enough, and I look up. "John."

  "I came as soon as I heard." Dr. John Flynn often sits cross-legged in his office chair, and now, here he is, in much the same fashion on the floor beside me. "Where are your thoughts, Edward?"

  I know this exercise. I'm vaguely aware that everyone has left. I imagine my father called him. They must think Krissy's going to... No. No! "She can't die, John, she can't..."

  "Your mother told me Krissy's doing a bit better. She'll be out of surgery soon. Let's focus on that, all right?" He lowers his face, looking up toward me, like trying to coax compliance from a child.

  "My... my baby..."

  "I heard. I'm so sorry."

  The words... I struggle to string them together. "Krissy... I can't... I can't lose her, John. I can't."

  "She's still with us, Edward. You know how strong she is."

  I nod, my aching head bobbing like a doll. "She's the strongest person I know. So much more than I am. She's my life..." I swallow another sob.

  "Breathe, Edward."

  I suck in a ragged breath, and weary, sick relief floods my body. I hadn't noticed I was holding my breath. I haven't done that since I was a child... since I drove her away... since that fucker Hyde...

  "Keep talking," he prods.

  "I don't know what to do. I always know what to do, I always have a plan." I shudder. A new despair washes over me. "What am I going to tell her?"

  Flynn shakes his head. He's at a loss, a reaction I'd never seen from the man before. "That you love her," he decides. "That it happened, that you're here for her, and that you'll get through it, together." He pauses. "I know, it's standard and clinical, but it's all I've got. There really is no easy answer sometimes."

  My mother knocks lightly at the cracked door.

  Flynn straightens, indicating for me to rise with him. My sore knees resist, but the rest of my body doesn't... I can't seem to make any decisions at the moment. He gestures me over to the vinyl couch, and then sits beside me. I put my head in my hands. I can feel Flynn looking at me. "Your mother would like to bring your daughter to you. It would be good... for you, and later for Krissy... to be able to say goodbye to her." He pauses, and his voice softens further. "It might be your only chance before hospital procedures take over."