[Billionaire Duke 01.0] The Billionaire Duke

by Gina Robinson

  He leaned forward and took my hand that had been resting on the table. His was warm. His touch distracted my thoughts.

  "If I'm going to pull this off, I need your help. If we work together, we can defeat the Dead Duke and not have to marry at all."

  I tried not to look devastated, or even crestfallen.

  He squeezed my hand. "It's nothing personal. I'm sure you'd make a great duchess." His tone was genuine and kind. And heartbreaking. "You'll also be the perfect ally. No one else will do."

  I hadn't realized how much I'd glommed onto the idea of being his duchess. "I'm the last woman of childbearing age in my line. I'm worth a lot to the deceased His Grace." I stared Riggins down, wondering if I could trust him. Wondering how mercenary and greedy I really was at heart.

  There was a lot of money at stake. A mind-boggling amount. More than I needed, way more. I didn't need it for myself. But I had Sid to worry about. A lot of money would help me find a cure, one way or another. For her and for others.

  Because, though I hated to admit it, I worried there was no match for her. Or, if there were, we wouldn't find it in time. Worst, horrible case, if I couldn't find one, with the Dead Duke's money, I could give her everything this world had to offer. Make sure she got to do everything she wanted to do before her disease became a death sentence.

  I wasn't convinced Riggins' deal was best for Sid and me.

  He squeezed my hand again. "Haley, I need you to understand. If I have my way, there will be no money. None for us to split. The dukedom and all its assets will belong to the British people. I want to give it away. I'm sorry. I know it sounds selfish."

  His words faded away. He was still talking, but I wasn't listening. I paled. No money. I couldn't be hearing him right. "But what about Sid?"

  "I promise to help her find a cure. Your sister would have her health. And you would have your freedom. Your self-respect remains intact. Aren't those priceless?"

  I waffled. "If we don't marry, by your own admission, he ruins you."

  "Not if I can help it."

  I paused. "Do I have a choice?"

  "You can always fight me. I hope you won't. But that's an option." He looked genuinely contrite. "I'm trying to be honest with you. I'm going to fight to get out of this. I might not succeed. But I might. I won't do anything that will damage my company. If it comes down to it and I fail, we'll have to marry.

  "In the meantime, all I'm asking is that you keep this from Thorne and back me up if I need it."

  "And in return, if you succeed, you'll help Sid. If you don't, the agreement we have with the Dead Duke stands and we get married. If I don't help you, and you succeed, I walk away with nothing. Do I have that right?"

  He nodded. "I'm not a douche. I'd rather have you for an ally. I can't do this without you." His voice was tender. "Haley? Please? Help me?"

  I didn't see that I had a choice. If I didn't help him, Sid could lose. I nodded. "All right. What do you want me to do?"

  His face lit up. He gave my hand a playful shake. "Play along and buy time for me to find a way to get us out of this."

  If this were a regular first-date coffee date, what would this say about him? Trying to get out of relationship before it has even begun would generally be considered a deal breaker by almost any girl.

  "Haley," Riggins said. "I'm really not a douche. If I find a way to thwart the Dead Duke and get out from beneath his control, I'll make sure you're comfortable. I won't leave you hanging. How does twenty million sound for your trouble?"

  I gulped. It wasn't a hundred and fifty million. But then I didn't have to do as much work for it, either. It was plenty of money to me.

  He looked at me expectantly. "All you have to do at that point is refuse to marry me."

  I nodded. I should have been happy. All I really wanted was a cure for Sid. Or did I want more? Did I want Riggins? Or was it the fairytale being snatched from me so quickly that I was mourning?

  "If I refuse to marry you, does that get you out of the contract?" I said.

  He nodded. "Yes."

  "You only have a few weeks," I said.

  We both suddenly realized he was still holding my hand. He let go. I withdrew it and put it in my lap, heart racing.

  "If you don't find a way before the deadline, then what?" I said.

  "We get married. And I keep looking."

  "Will you ever give up?" I was genuinely curious, though I wasn't sure I wanted the answer.

  He looked me directly in the eye. "Depends. There's a point of no return, isn't there?" He laughed, finding humor in even that. "Let's hope it doesn't come to an heir."

  Chapter 7

  Riggins

  Haley blinked and sucked in a breath. She sat up straighter. Her back didn't touch the back of her chair. The soft light left her eyes. Suddenly, she was all business. "We have to keep up the charade so Thorne doesn't get suspicious. Should we book a wedding venue as a backup and to throw Thorne off? We'll be lucky to find anything on such short notice—"

  "Not a problem. We can always get married at my place." I sat back in my chair.

  She arched a brow.

  "Don't look so skeptical." I laughed. "I'm serious. I can host several hundred people."

  "Well…if you're planning such a small wedding, I guess it will do." She winked.

  I let out a breath I hadn't been aware I was holding. She was a good sport. She was taking this well.

  "We still need to be seen out together."

  I nodded. "Absolutely. What are you doing Friday night?"

  She looked startled. "Are you asking me out?"

  Damn, I almost wanted to for real. I grinned and shrugged. "Why not? We can enjoy the deception and plot together evilly."

  The corners of her mouth turned up ever so slightly. "Evilly?"

  "Is there another way to plot?" I rubbed my hands together.

  She smiled fully. Damn, I liked seeing her smile.

  "I'll plan something special," I said. "Intimate. No movies. No concerts. Dinner?"

  "Let me see. I don't have to work Saturday. I haven't made any other plans for Friday night. I guess I'm open." She shrugged, teasing me. "Dinner."

  "Good," I said, warming to the idea. "Eating is traditional for a genuine first date. If we want this whirlwind courtship to look real, we need to conduct it like a real one."

  She nodded. "Exactly. Now that the meet-and-greet coffee date is out of the way, and we've been allied in a cause, a real fight for freedom, ours, we need an activity where we can get to know each other in more depth. Talk to each other. Something beyond 'let's find a way to get out of this marriage.'" Her mismatched eyes twinkled as she held my gaze.

  They were multicolored, like her hair. Not startlingly different. It was only when you really looked at her that you saw the difference.

  "Nothing too over-the-top romantic," she said while I was distracted by her eyes. "No need to waste that gesture just yet. Save that something-we'll-remember-for-the-rest-of-our-lives moment for the next date. Then be as over-the-top as you like."

  I laughed. "Are you telling me how to date?"

  She shrugged. "I'm telling you how I like to be dated. So, yes, if that's what you mean. I'm not insulting your dating prowess. I have no idea how the women you've dated before have wanted to be treated." She paused. "Grab your phone. I'll give you my number."

  She waited while I pulled it out of my pocket, then rattled off her number while I typed it into my phone.

  "Text me now so I have yours." She grinned at me. "I know you have mine. You have no excuse if you don't call me later." She made the hand gesture for "call me."

  I laughed at her antics. "You're not very trusting," I said as I texted her.

  "Should I be?" Her phone buzzed. She glanced at it. "'Hey'? That's as erudite and romantic as you can be?"

  "You didn't ask for either," I said. She was going to be a handful.

  I walked her out. She'd taken a bus in to town. I ordered her an Uber, saw her safely
into it, and drove across town. I had an old friend I had to see.

  The Lipstick Spy School was in a fashionable area of downtown along Fifth Avenue, nestled among the pricey shops and boutiques. It was a highly feminine establishment—a spa, a beauty retreat, an adventure-vacation destination. It was part of a franchise that had schools in half a dozen cities nationwide.

  As the name suggested, women went to it to be pampered and pretend to be spies. They learned how to dress like femme fatales. How to mix the perfect drinks. Self-defense skills. How to dance exotic dances. Not surprisingly, it was a popular destination for bachelorette parties. Or simply a day of pampering.

  It was owned and operated by an old college friend of mine. Not for the first time, I needed her help. Inside was lightly perfumed and elegantly, tastefully decorated to appeal to the kind of woman who imagined herself a Bond girl. It was pure fantasy. The receptionist, a beautiful girl in a low-cut red dress, greeted me.

  "I have an appointment with Milia." I smiled at her.

  The receptionist nodded, picked up an old-fashioned red phone, and spoke to someone. "She's in her office on the fifth floor. Take the private elevator." She pointed. "I'll call it for you."

  A few minutes later, I arrived. As I stepped out of the elevator, Milia's personal assistant greeted me and showed me into her office.

  "Riggins!" Milia rose to greet me, her eyes twinkling. Her smile genuinely delighted.

  As near as I could tell with Milia, anyway. She was an expert faker. She had several advanced degrees, including one in psychology. Or maybe psychology was just one of her minors. I lost track. The woman was a genius. And gorgeous, too. The entire package, especially if you liked deception.

  She wore the signature red dress of the spy school. Low-cut and tight. She was model thin. Dark, straight hair in a chignon. High cheekbones. Dark eyes. Pale skin. She looked classically French.

  Her assistant left, closing the door behind her.

  "Emmy!" I gave Milia, which was the professional name she used now, a hug.

  When I'd met her, she'd been just plain old Emily Carter. Now she was a chameleon. And, evidently, French.

  "You're one of the few people I let call me that." Her voice was low, cultured, calculated to be sensual, and had just a hint of French.

  Emmy was a good old American mutt. But she could pretend to be almost anything and anyone.

  "What brings you to my lair, Your Grace?" There was a tease in her voice. "Or should I call you Witham?"

  "Definitely not. Your Grace will do, commoner."

  She laughed softly and raised one perfectly sculpted eyebrow, looking suddenly like the college girl I'd been madly in love with for a time.

  "If I'd known you would someday be a duke—"

  "You never would have dumped me?"

  "Did I do that?" She put on an innocent look.

  We both knew she'd broken my young heart.

  "Being a billionaire isn't enough to tempt you?" I said. "Or fill you with regret?"

  She laughed. "Maybe. It should be. If I were the type for regrets."

  "And what's wrong with being Emmy? Before you decided to be French—"

  She put a finger with long, French-tipped fingernails to my lips. "Ssshhh! That's just between you and me."

  "All right," I said. "But call me Riggs, like always."

  "Just don't call you late to dinner!" she said.

  It was an old, bad joke between us from my starving college days when I'd had no money and an appetite that wouldn't quit.

  She laughed again and dropped the hint of French accent. "So? What brings you here?"

  "I need a favor," I said. "A couple of favors. I'm willing to pay."

  "You know I love you, Riggs. But I'm a busy businesswoman these days. I only take on tasks that intrigue me." She offered me a chair and took one opposite me. "And if you pay for them, are they really favors? Or jobs?"

  "Call them whatever you like. I think you'll find them interesting." I sat on the edge of my seat.

  She cocked her head and gave me her full attention.

  "I need you to take a girl in hand and treat her like a duchess. I'm fulfilling a fantasy of hers to be completely pampered for a day."

  Emmy didn't look particularly surprised by my request. "So the rumors are true? You're looking for a duchess? Have you found one?" She became French again and pouted very prettily. She was such a tease. "I never should have let you go."

  I laughed. "Is that what you call throwing me out?"

  "We were young. You were an ass in those days."

  "I'm not disagreeing." I had no defense. "I need your complete discretion. Nothing I say leaves this room."

  "Naturally." She looked almost offended. "Who's the lucky girl?"

  "Her name is Haley." I told Emmy all about her. I told her everything. About the Dead Duke and his threats. Haley's sick sister. My plan.

  Emmy wasn't the kind of woman to offer optimistic platitudes or false hope. I appreciated that about her. She'd seen a lot of the underbelly of the world. It had hardened her. And she hadn't been a sucker to begin with.

  Her eyes lit up at the thought of an adventure and my description of the Dead Duke. "A real-life super villain! Controlling the world from beyond the grave. I love it!"

  "I knew you would." I'd called it right. "I want the press to see Haley turned into Cinderella at the ball. You're playing the part of fairy godmother. Give her the deluxe treatment at the spa—hairstyle, makeup, manicure and pedicure, massage, mud bath, the works. Bill me. When I pick her up, I want her completely gorgeous."

  "No problem," Emmy said, looking bored and disappointed. She put on the pout again. "But not much fun. Were you just toying with me earlier?"

  I grinned. "I knew you'd say that. This is where it gets interesting. Do you still have your connections in China and the UK?"

  "What are you saying?" Her smile was absolutely sly. "Why would I?"

  "Because you'd never let your spy connections die. You know how to get past the red tape in China and find out things no one else can."

  I took a deep breath. "I want out of this arranged marriage. If that's going to happen, I have to find a cure for Haley's sister. Our best shot is a sibling. I need to find out whether Haley's sister has any and if any of them match her as a marrow donor. If so, I'll pay them whatever it takes to donate theirs to her.

  "Additionally, I need to find a way to stop the Dead Duke from dumping his shares of stock on the market and ruining me. But first things first. If I agree to marry Haley, and she refuses to marry me, what can I do? The contract is null and void."

  "And you get everything?" Emmy said with a gentle lift of her chin. "My darling, greedy Riggs!"

  "Since you've become Milia, Emmy, you've become a cynic. I keep everything I currently have. All the Dead Duke's money separate from the estate goes to charity. Haley keeps her freedom. Her sister lives a long and happy life. Everybody wins."

  "Do they, Riggs, darling?" Emmy cooed. "I think it would be nice if some girl tamed you and kept you for a pet."

  I laughed at her. "You would."

  Haley

  When I got home, Sid was full of questions. "How did your meeting go? What did the duke leave you? And how did you manage to score a coffee date with Riggins Feldhem? Sunshine Sheri's twitter feed is full of the gossip."

  Her voice was pitched high with excitement. She talked so fast, her sentences ran together. She was hard to understand, but her excitement was evident. Understandably. In our mundane, everyday lives, this was something exciting.

  "'SeattleDuke' is still trending." She didn't slow down. "At least half a dozen people snapped pictures of you and posted them to Sheri's feed."

  Those sneaky coffee drinkers! I thought.

  "The buzz says you two looked very intimate and happy together." She raised her eyebrows in a mixture of question and innuendo.

  We were better actors than I thought. Fortunately, Jasmine and Liz were still at work. I could speak fr
eely. "That was just for show."

  She frowned and made a pouty face of disappointment. "Are you sure?"

  "Positive."

  "I don't understand. What's for show? Why would you and Riggins be faking a relationship?"

  I sighed. "It's a long story." I paused. "Can you keep a secret?"

  She scoffed. "Can I keep a secret? You know I can. I'm the queen of keeping secrets."

  Little secrets. Tiny secrets, maybe. But something as large and crazy as this?

  "I'm serious, Sid. If I confide in you, you can't tell anyone. Ever." I gave her a piercing look.

  "Fine. You know I can." She crossed her arms and put on her peeved expression. "Do you want me to promise to stick a needle in my eye?"

  "Maybe."

  She shook her head and raised an eyebrow. "This must be serious stuff."

  I nodded. "And bizarre." I bit my lip. There was simply no good way to share this kind of crazy. "The late duke left me an arranged marriage."

  Sid rolled her eyes and looked peeved. "Stop kidding around."

  I put on my most serious face. "I'm not kidding. He wants me to marry Riggins Feldhem. And he's willing to pay me handsomely to do it and produce an heir." I rolled my eyes.

  "I know! It sounds insane. I'm evidently the last female in the Dead Duke's late first wife's family line. Riggins is the last in his. He wants his biological legacy to continue the way it should have if his first wife had lived to bear an heir that survived the duke."

  Sid looked at me like I'd been smoking something. I didn't blame her. The entire situation was beyond crazy.

  "What?" she finally said, still looking puzzled and skeptical. "He wants you to be Riggins' duchess?"

  I nodded. "And Riggins isn't thrilled with the prospect of basically an arranged marriage, as you might imagine. But for now, we're throwing the Dead Duke's executor off by playing along."

  I took Sid's arm and led her to the sofa. "Sit. I'll explain everything. It's a long, complicated story."

  She listened quietly while I told her everything I knew, asking only a few clarifying questions.

  "Wow!" she said when I finished.