The Billionaire's Marriage: A Romance Novel

by Marshall, Marnie

  "Darling?"

  Who am I kidding? I have no control. "She's doesn't want to come home."

  "Oh, Edward," comes a whisper of disbelief.

  I drop my head into my hands. My family has fallen apart. The only woman I will ever love doesn't want me.

  "Let me talk to her."

  "No," I insist. "No, Mom. I can't force her. I won't." I cannot control this, even though I want to. Desperately. I hear her soft voice from beyond the doorway. I'm not sure what she's saying, but I think she's being gentle in explaining the situation to Ray, like she knows I'll listen and doesn't want to hurt me. Maybe she pities me. I did bare my soul, after all. "She has to find her own way."

  My mother rarely gets emotional, over anything. She's always been so self-contained. But now, she's struggling not to cry. I know my mother loves Krissy. But I've come to understand that it's not just Krissy, but what Krissy has done for me, that's led my mother to love her so deeply. I can't stand the thought that my mother might turn her back on Krissy over this. I know deep down that she won't, but the fear is still there. "Please, Mom. Please don't blame Krissy. It isn't her fault. She doesn't understand. She doesn't know."

  "Then help her understand."

  "I'll try." I have to. "But I won't force her."

  "Edward?" It's Krissy's voice. She's calling to me.

  I stand, rigidly and put one foot in front of the other. Her eyes are tinged with apprehension. "I got Ray squared away." She holds out my Blackberry. Our fingers brush when I take it from her, the usual electricity between us just an echo. The phone sinks into my pants pocket like iron.

  "Can I do anything?" I test. I'm not sure she'll let me.

  "Um... sure. Get me the heck out of here." Her smile is small, but brave.

  I nod. "Dr. Sluder will be here soon." I'm not sure what else to say.

  "What's wrong?"

  I struggle to maintain my flat expression. I won't get upset. She doesn't need to see me break down. She's made her choice, and for now, I need to support her in it, as I promised when I married her.

  "Edward?"

  "Hmm?"

  She's trying to weave her fingers together, like she does when she's not sure how to handle me, but it looks difficult to do with her cast swallowing her right hand down to her knuckles. "You're upset... I thought this was what you wanted."

  "What?" My heart leaps. I immediately quelch the surge of hope. She can't possibly mean... did I read her wrong? "What do you mean?"

  "You... still want me to go home with you... right?" She looks unsure.

  Oh God... please. Don't do this just for me, Krissy. "Of course I do," I assure her. My hope has returned full flame. I perch on the edge of her bed, just within reach but not touching her. "But... I thought you'd made up your mind?"

  She swallows. "What you said... about doing what's best for our family..." her voice quivers. "I was ready to go home to Montesano. Before you told me about Ryan, I just wanted to go, to start over. Maybe get to know you again, I don't know. But now that I know, I want to be near him. I thought I might get by seeing him a few times a week, but I don't think that will be enough. And you said our family... you didn't call us your family, you said it's ours. "She sighs, as though she's thought of something brilliant, but then it tries to escape her mind before she can recount it in its entirety. "It just... made sense. You... you included me as an equal. That's what 'our' meant to me. I still want the familiar, I'm drawn to it. I'm rather craving it, to the extent that I still feel like running. But though I have a million reasons to go, I can't shake the reasons to stay. Maybe I need the people I've lost more than the ones I know."

  "Oh, Krissy." I can't help myself. I gently fold her into my arms. She tentatively brings her good arm around my waist, her fingers coming to rest at my lower back. "My brave, strong Krissy." My nose settles in her hair, and I breathe in her fresh, sweet scent. The familiar current passes between us. I've missed it, so very much.

  A timid, nervous laugh escapes her. "I don't know about the strong part, but I'll be brave."

  "No, baby. You are strong. You're one of the strongest women I know." I release her, not wanting to push my luck. I feel fortunate that she's let me touch her at all, but then, I have to remind myself that she never really was resistant to my advances. Perhaps this won't be so hard... what am I saying? She doesn't know me, doesn't know the things I've done, she won't be expecting how twisted I was when we met, how different my lifestyle was from what she's probably expecting. And with circumstances so different now... oh, God. I suddenly recall the volume of non-vanilla items strategically hidden throughout our bedroom. Those will have to go at once.

  She must see the string of emotions cross my face, because she looks as though she's suppressing panic.

  "Second thoughts?" she murmurs.

  "No, baby, never," I reassure her. "I just had a lapse in my schedule; a meeting I'd arranged for this morning," I cover.

  "Oh," she says, apparently convinced. "If it's important enough to make you look that worried, maybe you should go."

  "Perhaps I should stop in," I agree. "But I am the boss," I add. "If you don't want me to go, I can cancel." Please say you want me to stay. Please...

  Her pupils dilate slightly, and she looks torn. "I shouldn't, um... don't cancel on account of me. I'll be fine. Supposed to be brave, right?"

  I try to conceal my disappointment. But then, she's agreed to come home, and I can use a short time away to clean house. "All right. I'll see you in a little while; my mother will bring Ryan and sit with you, if you'd like."

  "That would be nice. Thank you," she blushes. Oh, her sweet, sweet face, and how it betrays her reactions to me.

  I plant a soft kiss on her forehead and give her good hand a final squeeze. "Don't get into any trouble."

  "I'll try not to," she smiles.

  ~oOo~

  The ornate trunk's lid closes with a satisfying click. That should do it. All the toys, add-ons, novelties and instruments, along with Krissy's skimpiest articles of... well, I wouldn't call them clothing... and even a piece of sculpted artwork have been stowed. I turn the iron key and test the handle; it's firmly locked. Every square inch of the house is now entirely G-rated.

  I rise, and Gail is still standing behind me. She's remarkably stealthy. I hand her the key. "If you wouldn't mind hiding this somewhere in your apartment, I'd appreciate it." There's little chance Krissy would even enter the Taylors' private living space above the garage, much less rummage through it. Gail accepts the key, but doesn't move.

  "What is it?" I ask, not sure I want the answer, by the way her expression flickers with uncertainty. I've known Gail a long time. She's well aware and ultimately accepting and silent of my previous lifestyle, which is why I asked her help in packing things away. A few years ago I would not have been interested in her polite opinion, but as far as we've come, I'm not as hesitant to allow it.

  She folds her arms. "Are you sure this is a good idea, sir?"

  I shake my head. "I'm fortunate enough that she's agreed to come home. I don't want to jeopardize what little comfort she'll have in such an unfamiliar place. I'd rather she get the right idea from me, than the wrong idea from these things. Besides, there are plenty of other things to... jog her memory.

  "I understand." She pockets the key. "I'll put it in Jason's safe."

  I nod. "Incidentally, is it too late to ask you to prepare your chicken stew for dinner tonight?"

  She smiles. "I've already started it."

  I laugh. "Jason told you."

  "He texted me from the hospital. We're both very glad she's coming home."

  "No one is happier than I am." I sigh, then launch into the rest of the laundry list. "The physical therapist and his assistant will be here at one o'clock to set up equipment in the gym, and Luke will be working with the home nurses this afternoon to address Krissy's mobility and safety concerns, so just keep an eye on things and give them access to whatever they need. And another thing... I nee
d some of my effects moved to the blue bedroom. I'll be sleeping there for the time being."

  She nods, her smile turning sad at the end. "I'll get right on it."

  ~ KRISSY ~

  I'm sore again. This time, it's more my legs than anything else. Rhames had me doing these weird, assisted, one-legged lying-down bicycle moves that had my knees shaking and toes cramping from the strain of trying to lift limbs that hadn't been used in a month. The guy is a task master. I just want to re-learn to walk, not train to be an Olympic runner. I focus on thoughts of Ryan, and look down at the scribble he'd left on my cast with a Sharpie while he and Dr. Grace kept me company earlier. She's since taken him to get some lunch and to nap, and I'm grateful. I wouldn't want him watching me like this.

  One of the suits brought me back to my room. The one called Sawyer, I think. I'd seen him lurking in the hallway over the past few days. I catch him with this look of utter sympathy, and then he looks away, like he's ashamed. It's kind of touching, but more irritating; I'm tired of people feeling sorry and worried for me. I feel fine. Well, aside from the soreness. And immobility. And memory loss. And, strangely, guilt. I'm fine. Really.

  And in a few hours, I'm going... somewhere. I can't call it home if I've never seen it. I'm feeling overwhelmingly looked-after, and I imagine that will also be the case where I'm going, if my... husband... has anything to do with it, and I imagine he does. He doesn't reveal much. So many things run like clockwork around him, so I can only assume he's a very practiced puppeteer. I get the impression he's very good at getting his way, and that worries me.

  "Penny for your thoughts?"

  Shit, it's the shrink. He's leaning in the doorway, arms crossed, mildly studying me. He might have a field day with what's in my head. "Oh, hello," I manage.

  Flynn smiles at me. "Edward tells me you're going home today. How do you feel about that?"

  I snort. "That's the most stereotypical shrink query of all time, isn't it?"

  Flynn laughs. "Yes, it is. But it has its purpose."

  "Is he here?" I look past him into the hallway.

  "He's on his way. May I come in?"

  I wave to one of the chairs, wincing as my muscles protest.

  "You're improving quickly," he casually observes, settling into the seat further from me. "Dr. Treveylan is very impressed. Have you recalled anything since we last spoke? Anything seem familiar?"

  I shake my head. "I met my son this morning."

  "Tell me about that."

  "What's there to tell? I didn't recognize him. He looks like Edward, and a bit like me, he knows me, I've seen the scars on my belly… so I know he's ours. He let me hold him a while. Something felt right about being with him. But that's all I have."

  "That says a lot more than you think, Krissy."

  "How so?"

  "You're still being skeptical, still questioning, still lining up the facts. You're allowing your instincts to help you decide what's true and what isn't. You say that being with Ryan felt right, and that's because, on a subconscious level, your brain knows that it is right.

  "So if going to physical therapy feels wrong, and it does... I shouldn't go anymore?"

  "Very amusing. Glad you're regaining your sense of humor, baby." Edward has arrived. His hair is ruffled, and the top button of his shirt has been unbuttoned. Oh my. He looks... breathtaking. No one alive should be this beautiful. And what exactly does he see in me? He's way out of my league.

  "Edward, why don't you join us? Krissy was about to tell me how she feels about going home."

  Edward saunters to the other side of my bed, taking his time. Oh, he must know the effect he has on me. This is so humiliating, and in front of my therapist? Has he no shame? Oh right, of course not. He's master of his universe.

  "And how do you feel about it?" Edward prods. He looks genuinely interested now. I'm cornered.

  "Cornered," I voice the unspoken thought.

  "How so?" Edward looks concerned.

  "Okay... maybe not so much cornered as at a disadvantage," I admit.

  "Would you feel more comfortable if we speak in private, Krissy?" Flynn suggests.

  I look from Flynn to Edward, and back again. "Probably not."

  Edward looks flustered.

  Flynn on the other hand, seems pleased. "That's very honest of you. And considering the circumstances, it'll be very beneficial if you continue to be as forthcoming as you can. It'll go a long way toward building trust. And in an unfamiliar setting, you're going to need to trust those around you. Now, let's talk about your concerns regarding going home. What would you say are your top three?"

  I think hard for a moment. "Relationships."

  "Yes, that one is a whopper. And that's where the honesty is going to help you most. There's a very solid support system around you, and we can talk more about how to approach difficult and uncomfortable topics that will probably arise. What else?"

  Difficult and uncomfortable topics? Like what? Focus, Steele... I mean, King. Shit, this is hard. "Ryan."

  "Another good point. For now, just be yourself. He knows you. Let him direct things. He's still very young, and so he'll likely be oblivious to your memory loss. Your physical state may upset him, so just be reassuring. And what's one more?"

  This is the hardest one to admit. "I don't want to lose myself."

  "How so?" It's Edward this time.

  I shrug, marveling that my shoulders obey somewhat, and I try not to cringe from the sharp discomfort associated with the movement. "Everything so far is so different from what I'm used to, and I haven't really left this room long enough to make a comparison. My independence is gone. I'm not used to people doing everything for me, watching me all the time. Some parts of it feel right, and then something happens and I'm reminded of how alien everything is. I feel like Alice, falling down the rabbit hole. Every time I wake up, there's a second when I think I'm about to take my midterms, and then I end up facing the shock of this situation over again. Everyone's expecting me to assimilate, but I don't want to become a spectre, doing what's expected and flitting mindlessly in this collective of lives that I don't feel a part of."

  "This is a very thoughtful observation, Krissy," Flynn leans in toward me, resting his elbows on his knees, his fingers woven together. "The fact that you've moved on to the awareness of what may happen if you allow your independence to be taken away suggests that you probably won't let that happen. If you need reassurance, keep in mind how you feel physically. You're making progress toward regaining full mobility. As you improve, your independence will follow. And if you ever feel uncomfortable about the way something is being handled, be open about it. You're free to call me any time you need backup. All right?"

  I nod, and a part of me wants to ask if it's a customary offering, or if he senses that I'll need an advocate. Edward leans over and takes my hand, giving what could be either a reassuring squeeze or a reminder that I should know I belong with him. This current passing between us is a powerful thing, and it's making my judgment a little fuzzy. I'll need to work up the nerve to ask him about this radiating intensity... or maybe I should ask Flynn when Edward isn't around, that's assuming he knows anything about Edward, aside from what I've just assumed is an acknowledgement of potential control issues.

  "Edward," Flynn prods, "Can you say that you'll be supportive of Krissy's recovery of her independence, no matter the outcome?"

  Oh my. Speculations, intensified. One ticket to the lion's den, please, and make that a front row seat.

  "So long as her safety isn't compromised, I'll live with whatever she decides."

  It's strange, being spoken of in the third person when the speaker is staring straight at me. There's a burning behind his eyes too. It has hooks into my soul. What have I gotten myself into?

  "Krissy? You'll keep an open line of communication with Edward?"

  Do I have a choice? "So long as I can take things slow, yes."

  "That sounds reasonable." Flynn rises. "I'll stop by on Tuesday
afternoon to check in. Do you have my number, Krissy?"

  Edward fumbles in his jacket pocket, pulls out a shiny black phone and hands it to me. "Almost forgot. Your new phone. Speed dial six."

  I stare at the sleek piece of technology. "But I..." I almost say I already have a phone, but of course I don't. Not the one I remember, anyway. And whatever phone I might have had was probably obliterated with my arm, my recent identity, my unborn child... cripes, this is too much to handle.

  "Krissy?" It's Edward this time.

  "Sorry," I shake my head. "I zoned."

  "You sure?"

  I nod, bravely. I'm not ready to delve right now. I need time to process first. I need these reminders to stop jumping into my head, startling me again and again.

  Flynn considers my expression with concern. "Use that number, Krissy. Day or night, I'll be on call. Okay?"

  "Okay."

  "Excuse me, John? Can you sign her paperwork?" Grace has appeared in the doorway again, sans Ryan. She flashes a smile at me, and I try to hide my disappointment when I return it.

  Edward studies the scribbles on my cast. "Ryan?"

  I nod.

  "Be right back." He strides out, returning a moment later with another sharpie, or perhaps, he's borrowed Dr. Grace's. Maybe I should just start calling her Grace, as she's asked, but it's weird. I've only known her a few days, and she's been more in charge of my care than the doctor assigned to me. I guess I'll adjust. In my musings, I've missed a bit of Edward's illustration. On an edge of Ryan's earlier scribble, he's joined our initials with a heart, and what looks like a flower. He's no artist, but it's very sweet.

  "There." He snaps the cap back on.

  I can't help but smile at his work. "Mr. King, are you being romantic?"

  The corners of his mouth turn up. "And what if I am?"

  "I won't be bought with hearts and flowers, you know."

  He gasps, and his pupils dilate. He swallows. "Yes, you will. Again."

  The determination in his assertion renders me speechless. I'm suddenly struck with a need to know everything about our early life together. I only wish my body were as lithe and rambunctious as my mind.