The Billionaire's Marriage: A Romance Novel

by Marshall, Marnie

  My head spins, and somehow, I remain on my feet. Is he doing what I think he's doing? Oh God, he is! My heart stutters frantically.

  The setting suddenly shudders and shifts, darkening. No! No, this can't happen, not now... Oh Edward, how he'll panic...

  It's dim where we are, in some wood-walled room filled with flowers and twinkling string lights, and he drops to one knee before me, holding a beautiful diamond ring. His mouth moves, but what he says doesn't match.

  "Krissy, my heart and soul are in your hands. I'm stronger with you by my side. Every day you give me hope, and remind me how precious and beautiful life is. I want to marry you, all over again. Please… be my wife?"

  Oh, my. My breaths are real, not imagined, quick and responding to my pulse, but I'm in control. This is so strange. Why didn't his lips match his words?

  Edward gazes up at me, hopefully, as though he already knows my answer.

  "Krissy?" His lips didn't move at all that time. What in the world? And then, it finally dawns on me. Oh no...

  I'm in both places at once.

  CHAPTER 17

  ~ EDWARD ~

  "Baby, you're killing me here."

  My head spins, in slow motion is the only fitting description for the sensation, and the surroundings fade... literally fade... from the twinkling darkness into the brightness of late morning. I squint.

  "Krissy?" Edward's expression is concerned, bordering on desperation.

  "Don't panic," I whisper. "I think I just had an episode."

  His eyes widen, and he stands, his hands immediately going to my face, my shoulders, running down my arms, his eyes fixed on mine. His fingers return to my cheeks, and I see that he has the ring, the engagement ring I'd left behind in the little box on the dresser, slipped around the tip of his pinky, forgotten for the moment.

  "You didn't pass out," he states the obvious, his voice light and bewildered.

  "You don't know the half of it," I mumble.

  He raises his eyebrows. I take it as an invitation to continue.

  "I heard everything you said. Every word. And my answer is yes, incidentally... but what I saw was you, proposing in some wooden greenhouse with Christmas lights all around. Your mouth didn't match the words I heard..." I gasp. "I think I was here and there at the same time."

  Edward blinks spastically. "The boathouse." His eyes trail from my eyes to his hand, the ring glinting. His mouth curls into a gentle smile. "You're saying yes?" he asks.

  And somehow, it clicks; this is what I needed. A proposal, the one I'd missed, now a part of my growing collection of memories, and now I have two. Both heartfelt and special. Wearing a ring, this ring, no longer troubles me. I nod. "Yes."

  His relief and joy are palpable. Soft lips claim mine, gently but possessively, and life... yes, life... blooms around us, enveloping us. He kisses me like a man who adores his wife. His arms curl around me, pulling me to him. "I love you," he whispers against my lips. "I love you so much."

  I smile, opening my eyes, and there he is, just inches away, staring back at me. It takes my breath away. His hands drop, running down my arms, grasping my hands and bringing them up between us. He kisses the knuckles of my left hand, deftly slips the ring off his pinky and slides it with great care onto my ring finger. It's a tad loose, but it feels... right. His hand grasps mine, as though he's lost for what to do next, and I twist so our fingers lace with each other.

  "I love you, Edward."

  He sighs, his eyes drifting closed. "Say it again," he asks.

  "I love you."

  He gasps. "Again." His eyes open, hooded and full of emotion.

  I smile, elated. "I love you."

  His hands move to my cheeks, he pulls me forward and plants a soft, lingering kiss on my forehead, and then wraps his arms around me. "I can't believe what just happened," he breathes.

  I giggle softly. "Which part?"

  "That you're all right, that you didn't collapse... I'll have to call my mother in a while and tell her... but moreover, that you've said yes, after all you know of me, after all I've put you through, that you still want me."

  His self-appraisal saddens me a little, but from what Dr. Flynn and I discussed, it's not unexpected. He's far less flawed than he thinks. "I do want you. I love you."

  Edward smiles broadly against my neck. "I love it when you say that."

  "I love you."

  He tightens his arms around me. "Thank you, baby." Again, he rocks me from side to side. "Thank you."

  Over Edward's shoulder and further down the path, I see Sawyer, pretending to mind his own business, but he's smiling warmly, too. It's an incredible thing, knowing how much the staff cares.

  "I want to give you a wedding," Edward distracts me from my musings. "Whatever you want to do, anything you'd like, it's yours."

  Oh my. "Maybe just a renewal," I interrupt. "I've seen the video, our wedding was beautiful, so much more than I've ever dreamed, but we've already done that, haven't we? Another wedding isn't necessary."

  "I want to do it for you, baby," he counters. More than just a wedding, I want to give you memories, cherished times between us that you can hold onto. It's important to me to do that for you."

  "You do that already," I pull back and take his face in my hands. "You've given me so many memories, and most importantly, you've give me... you."

  "I've always been yours. From the moment I laid eyes on you." I can tell he's remembering our alleged first meeting, where I supposedly fell into his office... several people have told me their account of the story, and though there isn't a lot to tell, the focus has always been Edward's ensnarement. "You captured my heart that day, and you've never let go. You beguile me, Krissy."

  I giggle. "Right back at you, Edward."

  A warm, late summer breeze caresses my skin, ruffling the seam of my skirt and reminding me where we are. "Shall we finish our stroll?"

  He nods, his smile that of a little boy on Christmas morning.

  ~ oOo ~

  "Yes, Mom. She seems fine. Mm-hmm. All right. I will. Here she is." Edward holds out his Blackberry to me, and I bring it to my ear.

  "Hi, Grace."

  "Hello, sweetheart. Enjoying your trip, I hope?"

  "I am," I tell her. "It's so beautiful here, I've never seen anything like it. How's Ryan?"

  "He's just fine, spoiled, but that's all Carrick's fault," she teases. It makes me giggle. "So, you've had two more?"

  "The short one, and then the one I was awake for. I was aware of what was happening on both sides, if that makes any sense."

  "Yes, Edward told me what you described to him. How do you feel?"

  "Fine. Better than fine, definitely better than any of the other times. Not tired at all."

  "No headache, dizziness or blurred vision?"

  "Nope, just a little disoriented when I came back to reality, but that went away immediately."

  "Any reason to think you might need to get checked out before you fly home?"

  "I can't think of any."

  "All right. If there are any others before you leave, though, or if you feel strange in any way I'd rather you were safe than sorry. I know you're not fond of hospitals."

  "Deal. Can I talk to Ryan?"

  "Of course. He's just woken up, let me go find him."

  I hear shuffling, a deep, muffled voice in the background and then what I think is Grace's, before a little boy's voice comes through loud and clear.

  "Mommy?"

  My face breaks into a grin. "Hello, Ryan."

  "Go to zoo, Mommy," he announces excitedly. "You come too?"

  "Oh baby boy, I'm really far away today, but thank you," I placate him, hoping he won't be too disappointed, and a flood of guilt washes over me. I've already missed his first two years of life, or at least I feel as though I have, and even though my knowledge of child development is limited, I know there will come a day when he'll want little to do with his parents, and I should cherish that he wants to be with me now. I'll make
it up to him when we return.

  "I'll see you the day after tomorrow, okay?"

  "T'morrow?"

  "The day after that."

  Ryan pauses. "Oh." I think the concept of time has escaped his two-year-old mind. Edward gazes at me expectantly.

  "Want to talk to Daddy, Ryan?"

  I hear a rustling, and since I don't get a verbal answer I can only assume his response was in the form of a phone-rubbing nod, and I hand it back.

  "Hi, Ryan-bear!" Edward says enthusiastically. They talk for a few minutes, and then Edward holds the phone away and looks at the screen puzzledly. "He hung up on me again." He redials and quietly speaks to Grace (I think) for a few more minutes, walking onto the balcony for what I can only suspect is some privacy. I wonder if he's talking about me, but if he is, it can only be out of concern, so when he returns, I don't press him.

  "Hungry?" he asks. It's nearly sunset, and we walked quite a bit today.

  "Of course."

  ~oOo~

  "Edward?"

  "Hmm?" he looks up from a clipped stack of papers.

  "Do you have any pictures of Ryan when he was a baby?" I ask, feeling a little stupid. I should have specified whether he has any on him at the moment, as we're settled onboard his jet. Of course we'd have pictures at home, what I'd already seen were in decorative frames littered through the house. What first-time parents wouldn't have an obnoxious number of them?

  Edward snorts, his lips twitching into a smile. "Millions. But I assume you mean right now," he fingers through his messenger pack, a soft chestnut leather thing with the capacity of Mary Poppins' carpet bag, for all the things I've seen him pull out of there this week. He retrieves a thin leather folder and passes it to me. "Poke around there, see what you can find."

  I open the cover, it's his iPad. A shiny black thing, it lights up to a picture of a model glider when I press the center button. Sliding my finger to unlock it, I'm met with a full screen of apps, efficiently organized by type. There's no second screen. I tap the collection labeled 'Media' and then one called 'Photos' and scroll down… there must be tens, perhaps a hundred albums. Some by date, others by event. I hover over one entitled 'Phoebe,' seeing a preview of what looks like a sonogram, and my heart lurches. No, I can't deal with the emotional turmoil right now, perhaps another time.

  There are dozens labeled 'Ryan,' 'Theodore,' 'Ryan,' 'Ryan and Ava,' and etcetera. I'm at a loss where to begin.

  "Start with 'Blip,'" Edward suggests, noticing my dilemma. I move down to the bottom and find an album with that title, just above one entitled 'Renovation.'

  It begins with a sonogram as well. A tiny jellybean inside an otherwise empty black-and-white orb, this can only be our son, my Ryan.

  "Blip?" I ask, and Edward sets his reading next to his seat and moves next to me.

  "It's what you called Ryan, from the moment you discovered him until his birth." He leans in to observe as I flip through the next photos, a series of side shots of me, as I grew. And grew. Holy shit, I was huge. There are a few interspersed of us together, Edward's arms wrapped around me from behind, fingers spread over my belly, kneeling before me with his hands teasing up my shirt, leaning in to press a kiss below my protruding belly button.

  "So beautiful," he comments softly, and I lean toward him, resting my head against his shoulder. He takes over the tablet and continues through the album.

  I wonder offhand what it was like for him, realizing that he was going to be a father. "How did I tell you?" I ask.

  Edward tenses. His finger pauses on the screen, and he lets out a long, steady sigh. "Carefully." I feel him swallow, and raise my eyes to gauge his expression. It's resignedly abashed. "I handled the news very badly in the beginning," he tells me. "I just wasn't expecting to become a father so soon. I behaved horrendously, but you were patient with me, and I came around. My mother gave me what-for as well." His eyes meet mine. "In case that particular memory surfaces, please know that I'd do anything to change my initial reaction. I beg you not to hold it against me."

  My subconscious is on her knees, praying that whatever drama he's referring to stays buried. I nod. "Okay."

  Edward presses his lips to my temple, and returns to the album. "And here he is."

  I'm practically upside down in this photo and covered by a blue sheet, and Edward leans in close, a small bundle in his arms, a warm, relieved smile teasing his lips.

  "He was a C-section baby?" I say, trying not to sound appalled. "How did I get talked into that?"

  "You both were in danger," he murmurs, his voice pained. "He was in distress. You were exhausted. I might have lost you otherwise."

  We're quiet for a moment while I absorb the gravity of his words. It's no wonder he's such a basket case when it comes to my well-being. I nuzzle into his shoulder, and he sighs. He flips to the next photo.

  I've seen this one on the bookshelf in Ryan's room but seeing it now, in the context of our conversation, boldens its meaning. Our first real family photo, it seems, places the three of us snuggled in what can only be a raised hospital bed, I deduce from the blue-dotted print on the sheets behind us. Ryan is a swaddled, fuzzy blue bundle between us, and our eyes are only for him. It feels such a private moment but I can't tear my eyes away.

  "Mom took this one, before the rest of the family came up to meet him," he says, his voice brightening. Another mood swing! Just a moment before he'd been headed down a path toward the dismal. Gosh, I wonder if it exhausts him as well, it sure does me. He flips through a few more, shots of various family members holding baby Ryan, lots of Edward with Ryan turned against his shoulder or cradled in his arms, the two gazing at each other, and a few of me struggling through an initial diaper-change. God, we recorded everything. If the next albums are any indication, I may be able to relive Ryan's entire life, moment by moment. The thought makes me smile.

  "More?" Edward asks. The last photo bounces against the edge of the screen, indicating that it's the last in the series.

  "Yes, please."

  ~oOo~

  Edward rises gracefully from our corner table at The Sirocco. "Krissy, this is Hannah, your assistant."

  The approaching, scholarly girl has to be about my age. I'm not sure why this surprises me; I suppose I'd been expecting a high-school student intern, for whatever reason my brain would conjure that up. She looks as nervous as I feel.

  "Hello, Hannah." I stand and offer her my hand, which she accepts a little hesitantly. "I assume my husband has explained the situation."

  "Yes, ma'am. It's good to see you." She's wide-eyed and if I'm reading her a little better now, she's more excited than nervous. I think I might like her… again. Edward said that I did.

  We'd shared a long talk after arriving home, at which time he'd relented a little too wholeheartedly on the returning-to-work issue. I was thrown off by his sudden willingness to compromise, and while I couldn't complain, I wondered idly if he had something else up his sleeve. He then actually suggested bringing an outsider into the fold, and then it was my turn to be apprehensive, especially when he'd used the word 'outsider'. Then he'd told me about Hannah.

  "Well, I'll leave you ladies to it." Edward drew me in for a soft kiss on the cheek, gestured for the two of us to sit, and strode casually out to one of the waiting vehicles with Taylor on his heels. The silhouette of the black SUV curved and warped in the vintage glass window as it pulled away from the curb. My two burly babysitters struggled to blend in two tables away.

  "So," I begin, not really knowing where to begin. I decide to go for the direct approach. "You know me, and even more importantly, you know my job better than I do at the moment. I need a gross reintroduction to my career, and all the while, you'll have to forgive me for not knowing a thing about you or the work we've done." God, that probably wasn't very comforting. I wish I knew the level of our familiarity going into this, but I feel completely blind.

  Hannah nods, all business. "I understand. Mr. King has filled me in a little bit, and I
get that there are some things that are totally need-to-know, so let me know if I accidentally step into that territory." She pulls a tablet out of her purse. "I've brought some old schedules and material from the second quarter and we can go over that, get an idea where you left off."

  I giggle. "Let's order first, I'm starving."

  By the time what I suspect is our very own elite wait staff clears the remains of my mushroom salad, I have a pretty good idea what relational page we're on, and an even deeper respect for Edward's desire to help people. He'd only mentioned that Hannah had worked for me from almost the very beginning, when King Publishing went by another name. He hadn't gone into any detail the lengths he went to reacquire her for me, that she'd left with my highest praise in pursuit of a Graduate Degree in Literature, that he'd begun her reacquisition on our first day in Sicily, and that he'd offered to compensate her tuition and all living expenses, plus what I sense is a generous salary, to step in as my assistant while taking classes locally in the evening and online. I was astounded and very much humbled, to say the very least.

  "And that's why they call it 'distance learning'," she laughs.

  I join in her good spirits for a moment, and then we quiet as our drinks are refilled. I lift the flute of sparkling juice to my lips, considering the position I've been thrust into. "Do you have any reservations about this arrangement?"

  "Oh, not at all," she waves my concern away. "When Mr. King called me last week, it was a godsend; I hadn't felt right since I left. I mean, I'm excited to be in school again, but I missed the job instantly. Thank you so much for having me back."

  "Believe me, Hannah, the pleasure is mine."

  "How is Ryan?" she asks, taking a sip of her diet soda, and for a second, I think she sees something behind me, because she pales, eyes wide.

  I turn briefly, but not seeing anyone except Luke and Garrett I turn back, and she's gone from pale to tearful. "Are you all right?"

  "I'm so sorry, Mrs. King… Mr. King told me not to ask any personal questions, it just slipped out. I'm terribly sorry," she pleads.