Since Merina’s parents were at the hotel, she’d taken advantage of the rare bit of privacy at home to have Lorelei over. They sat at the breakfast nook, baked-from-a-box blueberry muffins on a plate between them. Merina had filled Lorelei in on the phone at six this morning, which was about two minutes after Reese e-mailed her a prenuptial agreement, from his personal e-mail no less, that stated, Need your answer by tomorrow. This is a draft and not finalized.
“Romantic, right?” Merina grumbled into her coffee.
The night he’d stopped by the VH, she’d slept fitfully, grabbing twenty minutes here, five minutes there. She’d stumbled through the next few days on autopilot trying to figure out a way around what Reese was asking. He’d told her she couldn’t tell anyone, but the prenup’s arrival in her inbox required a lawyer’s expertise. Her lawyer also happened to be her very best friend. She’d debated for about thirty seconds before giving in and calling her lawyer bestie.
Lorelei had promised to read over the document and arrive at Merina’s house within the hour. Now she flipped through the pages casually while Merina waited and watched her facial expressions for any clue as to what she might say.
“So?” Merina prompted. “How badly am I getting screwed here?” Obviously, Reese Crane had more to gain or he never would have come up with the plan. There was something she wasn’t seeing; she was sure of it.
“Honestly?” Lorelei straightened the papers, then folded her hands neatly on top of the stack. “I think you’re sitting pretty if you take the deal.”
Knife hovering over the butter dish, Merina blinked at her friend. She abandoned the utensil, muffin forgotten. “I’m sorry, I swore I thought I heard you imply this is a good idea?”
Lorelei picked a hunk off the edge of her muffin and popped it into her mouth, then gestured around Merina’s living quarters. “Beautiful as your parents’ house is, I know you’re ready to leave.”
Merina sighed. She was past ready. Whenever she and Lorelei had lunch or drinks—sadly, it wasn’t that often since Lorelei had made partner at her firm—Merina moaned and complained about living with her parents. At age twenty-nine, it wasn’t exactly charming to be shacked up with Mom and Dad. She’d made due because the three-story house had a completely private upstairs, and save for the kitchen, she was able to feel as if she were in her own apartment. She now knew (after her mother’s reluctant revelation about their finances) that the rent Merina insisted on paying and grocery trips she made every other week had been helping.
Over the last few years, she’d spent so much time at work, she couldn’t see the point in moving out until she had a reason. And then she found one. A beautiful apartment close to the Van Heusen in an artsy building near the museum. She’d put down a deposit, intending to move after the holidays, but by last Thanksgiving her father’s heart attack had happened and her parents needed her more than ever. Also, the three of them were home together more than ever.
“I can move out without Reese Crane,” Merina grunted, buttering the muffin after all.
“This is true.” Lorelei nodded as she polished off the end of her muffin. “But if you with this ring, I thee wed, you can move out sooner, keep the Van Heusen, and you’ll be in charge of everyone’s jobs, including your own. This arrangement takes care of all your problems. Plus”—she dusted her hands, sending crumbs onto the napkin in front of her—“this would be a great test run for getting back on the horse.”
Merina’s entire face screwed to the side. “I think I’m about to be offended.”
“I’m your best friend,” Lore stated, resting a comforting palm over Merina’s hand. “I know you’ve been avoiding getting serious since Corbin. Reese Crane isn’t Corbin.”
Corbin. At the mention of her ex-boyfriend, Merina closed her eyes. Lorelei’s reassuring touch wasn’t reassuring at all. Corbin marked the one time in Merina’s life she wished she could rewind, erase, then fast-forward back to today.
She’d met him at a mixer at the Van Heusen’s former assistant manager’s house. She went to Liza’s because she was invited and she wanted to be friendly. She had no idea it was a setup until Liza shoved her brother, Corbin, in Merina’s face and left them suspiciously alone on the back porch. To her surprise, she liked him. A lot. He was fun and carefree…seemed less high-strung than the business sorts she’d dated in the past. Not that the list was long. It was mainly comprised of a few longish-term boyfriends during her college years, and then Corbin. Six years of semi-serious dating that had not resulted in marriage or even living together and had tied up what she now recalled fondly as her best dating years.
The evening at Liza’s led to exchanged phone numbers and from there turned into a few fun dates at Liza’s apartment where Corbin lived as her couch-crashing roommate. The third date ended in Merina’s bedroom, and she was grateful she had parents who were modern enough not to pry when she had a man over.
The beginning of the end came when Liza announced she was moving to Colorado to care for hers and Corbin’s aging mother. Corbin asked to stay with Merina for the short-term and she hesitantly said yes. When a few weeks turned into a few months, Merina started paying extra on her rent and saying it was from Corbin. It wasn’t. He was unemployed, and she quickly learned that his lifestyle was so “carefree” because he essentially mooched off whomever was handy.
Six months later, she came home from work one night to find her parents on the sofa and a note on her bed from Corbin that read, “Sorry, babe.” She learned the next morning her bank accounts had been drained.
In the quiet of the wee hours, sometimes she regretted not pressing charges, but she’d been too embarrassed to tell anyone else the truth: that Liza had effectively unloaded her loser brother onto Merina and bolted.
Merina opened her eyes and met Lorelei’s sweet, concerned gaze. “I don’t know if that’s a good argument, Lore. Maybe the lesson I’m to learn is don’t trust a man who needs something from me.”
Lorelei patted Merina’s arm, then pulled her hand away. “Not like Reese is going to clean out your bank account, babe.”
“Good point.” She’d put that in Crane’s plus column.
“I mean, come on. The last date you went on was with who?”
Her lips flattened. She wasn’t answering that question. But Lore knew the answer.
“Big teeth martini guy.”
Merina laughed, glad for the reprieve. “He didn’t have big teeth!”
“They were really, really white, though. Which against his complexion made them look big.”
“Yech.” Merina couldn’t help that reaction. In the blue lights of the bar, Daniel had been attractive and confident. Once back in his apartment, he was a little slimy. She’d had second thoughts, but then she’d been trying to get past Corbin, so she went through with it. “Well, getting on that horse wasn’t beneficial.”
“Should have been perfect,” Lorelei said thoughtfully. “With his horse teeth and all.”
Merina laughed so hard she had to hold her stomach. Lorelei joined her. Once they sobered, Merina sniffed and sighed and admitted the part about Crane’s offer that was eating at her.
“It’s not the way I saw myself getting married for the first time.”
Not that she’d always dreamed of a poufy gown with bridesmaids and groomsmen flanking her on either side. She had been fairly certain marriage would come as a natural part of a long-lasting relationship. The right long-lasting relationship. Certainly not part of a business agreement. She wrinkled her nose.
“That’s fair,” Lorelei admitted.
“Marriage is supposed to be forever. Engagements are supposed to be overly romantic. Like State Street in the snow around Christmastime,” she said of her parents’ engagement.
“I hear you. My dad took my mom up in a hot air balloon.”
Merina smiled. “And your mom is terrified of heights.” She’d heard the story from Lore’s parents before. It was always a boisterous story filled with laughter. “But
shouldn’t it be like that? Uniquely us?”
“Honey, getting married to a billionaire to win your family’s hotel back is as unique as it gets. Not everyone has drop-dead romantic weddings. Look at me.” Lorelei, ever the pragmatist, shrugged. “Vegas and Malcolm McDowell,” she said of her ex-husband. “Life is a series of events. We’re never sure which opportunities are going to come our way.”
“I’ve told myself the same thing. It’s only six months, right?”
“Six short months. Malcolm and I lasted six years. Try explaining that breakup to everyone.” She shouldered her purse, a sign she didn’t have the time or the desire to talk about her own closet-dwelling skeletons. “I have to meet a client at Starbucks. Another coffee for me. Hopefully I can maintain rather than behave like a hyperactive squirrel.”
“Your blood type is caffeine. I’m not concerned.” Merina’s smile faded. “Thank you for coming by. You can bill me.”
“Fine.” Lorelei pulled open the front door. “You owe me a dirty martini with extra blue-cheese-stuffed olives.” She winked and stepped out into the crisp morning air, then added, “Take the deal, Mer. He’s being fair and there is nothing in there about consummation.” She shrugged a petite shoulder. “Unless you want there to be.”
At her best friend’s sly smirk, Merina shook her head adamantly. “I wouldn’t sleep with that jerk.”
“Well, if I were you, I’d negotiate some jewelry and nice outfits out of it. You will probably have to succumb to a few public kisses, but then you’re off the hook and the Van Heusen is yours in the divorce.”
“Jewelry,” Merina said drily as she leaned on the doorjamb. Because she was not going to admit she’d just pictured Reese Crane’s firm mouth surrounded by stubble and wondered how good his lips would feel on hers.
It’d been a while since she’d dated anyone. A longer while since she’d had a good kiss. What was that guy’s name who met her for drinks a few months back? Darryl? Dylan? Well, whoever he was, he hadn’t been a good kisser.
“Oh, and get some shoes out of it too.” Lorelei kissed her hand and waved good-bye. As her Mercedes pulled away from the curb, Merina considered the very real opportunity she’d been handed. Maybe this was her chance to do like her best friend said. Win back the VH, keep their staff intact, and move out of her parents’ house with a clean break.
By fall, she could be sitting pretty, the entire debacle a part of her past.
At the kitchen table, she shoved half the muffin into her mouth and swept the prenup into a stack while she chewed. She cradled it to her chest and finished off her coffee.
“Okay, Mer,” she said as she watched the wind blow the budding trees outside, “you can do this.” But as she looked down at her cell phone, she imagined it’d grown teeth. What was she supposed to do? Call?
Text him?
She didn’t owe him an answer until tomorrow, but she wasn’t putting off this decision another minute. She’d already spent more time fretting and less time sleeping than she could afford.
If the options were lose the VH—watching her parents be forced into retirement and their staff file for unemployment—or marry Reese Crane, Merina would marry the man.
So. Maybe the best way to handle this was the most succinct way.
She opened the old text message from Reese and punched in one word. Then she stared at it for the count of three, took a deep breath, and hit SEND.
* * *
Fine.
Reese narrowed his eyes at the one word sitting on his phone’s screen.
Fine? He assumed that was Merina’s way of saying yes. Not the most heartfelt acceptance of his offer, but then he hadn’t presented the proposal in a heartfelt way.
Reese was still pursing his lips in thought when Bobbie cut in. “Mr. Crane?”
“Yes,” he said, dropping the phone on his desk and meeting her eyes. She’d come in here to review his schedule for next week and probably thought he was ignoring her. But he’d heard every word. And now Merina’s message had changed a few things. “Next week’s meeting times work, but I need you to reschedule my lunch appointment tomorrow and arrange a meeting with Merina Van Heusen and Penelope Brand instead.”
Bobbie’s eyebrows shot up, but she didn’t argue. “Very well. Here in your office?”
“Yes. No,” he amended quickly. “We’ll use the conference room. And have my lawyer swing by later this afternoon. I have a contract that needs his immediate attention.” He wanted that prenup finalized. The fewer delays the better.
“Yes, sir.” Bobbie left his office and Reese leaned back in his leather high-back and propped his elbow on the arm of the chair.
Merina was going to marry him. Looked like she was on board, and that gave him a sense of satisfaction. He knew she’d see things his way.
“Reese’s Rocket,” Tag announced, barging through Reese’s office door. His grin was shit-eating, his beard neatly trimmed for a change, and his clothes just what Reese had come to expect.
“Henley and cargo pants. Are you working on the water heater?”
Tag waggled his phone. “That’s one helluva hashtag.”
“What are you talking about?” Reese turned his attention to the stack of phone calls he had to return. Bobbie still insisted on jotting down phone numbers of callers on those WHILE YOU WERE OUT papers he hated so much. He had a trashcan filled with wadded up pink notes. “I need to buy Bobbie an iPad.”
“She’d use it as a coaster. She wouldn’t know what to do with it,” Tag said.
“Fact,” Reese agreed.
Tag plopped into the guest chair and leaned back, legs spread, mouth still grinning. Giving up the ghost, Reese dropped his stack of missed phone calls and said, “Out with it.”
“There are photos of your junk.”
“Pardon?”
“Well, not your junk,” Tag said, shaking his head at his phone’s screen. “But the outline of your junk. You either need a better tailor or you need to start wearing briefs.” He tossed his phone onto the desk. Reese lifted the device and found a photo of him, cropped to showcase one particular part of him. His…pants. The poster had drawn a giant red circle around Reese’s junk and added an arrow and three exclamation marks. The hashtag next to it read #ReesesRocket.
Reese’s…Rocket? Seriously?
“Fantastic.” Reese handed back the phone. “On the list of things I do not need, at the top is press focused on my reputation for—”
“Man-whoring?”
“Dating.”
“It is fantastic, actually. You can’t buy this kind of press. Who’s with you?” Tag held the phone up again.
“I went out with Elaine Parker’s daughter, Primrose.” Reese recognized his suit and the swish of blue dress cut out of the edge of the photo from a charity event last year. He knew exactly who was responsible for this.
“Ah. Primrose. She’s young, dumb, and full of—”
“Money,” Reese finished for him. Primrose was the “cute niece of that famous designer” Merina had mentioned the other night. She had asked him to attend the event with her, which he would have turned down if it wasn’t a charity with Crane Hotels front and center. Turned out she was clingier than he would have expected. Primrose hadn’t stopped calling him for four months. And now this.
“Well, she ain’t mad at you,” his brother said with another grin.
No, she was apparently trying to draw his attention because he was paying her none. “It’s not exactly a compliment.”
Tag’s smile disappeared and he held up a hand. “Excuse me. If she called your dick ‘Reese’s Rodent,’ that wouldn’t be a compliment. ‘Reese’s Rocket’ insists you know how to use it. That it’s a thing of power.” He made a fist.
“For the love of— I didn’t even sleep with her.” He wasn’t that lonely. She was too young. Too wide-eyed and too hopeful for his taste. She wasn’t the kind of girl who could handle a one-night stand. Hell, they had ended the evening with a chaste kiss and she still t
ried for a second date. At least this confirmed his instincts were spot-on.
“It doesn’t seem to matter,” Tag commented, shaking his head at his phone’s screen.
“Is this the only reason you came in here?” Reese asked.
“Yeah.” Tag offered a shrug as if it was obvious.
Reese’s phone lit and he glanced from his brother to a reminder for the lunch tomorrow he’d asked Bobbie to reschedule. She’d probably come in here with a pink slip giving him the details of the new meeting date in a few minutes; then he could tap it into his iPhone and add to the pink trash pile. Glancing back at his brother, Reese thought of the last text message that was on his phone.
“When a woman says ‘fine’…,” he started.
“Run.” Tag’s smug expression fell as he sat ramrod straight. “Like you have zombies on your tail. ‘Fine’ is not a term of endearment from a woman.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”
Tag’s eyes went to Reese’s phone. “Who gave you the F-word?”
“Merina. In answer to my marriage proposal.” He leaned on his desk, hands folded. “I’m assuming that’s a yes.”
“You should assume the position, man. That does not sound like a good sign.”
Reese let loose a smile. “We’re both business professionals. I’m sure she meant what it says. That she looked over the contract and it was…fine.”
“Contract.” Tag sucked air through his teeth. “You are not a romantic, are you?”
“And you are?”
“Don Juan over here.” Tag gestured to the off-white Henley hugging his biceps. If he had a hashtag, it’d be Tag’s Tanks. That was a good one, actually. Maybe if that went viral, everyone could talk about him instead. “You two get married, Merina will be the one answering for your ‘rocket’ to the press, not you.”
“Seems unfair.” He hadn’t thought about that. Then again, he’d never imagined someone coining a term for his…his…
The mind boggled.
“The world is unfair, bro.”
He supposed that was true.
“I’m going to have her come in tomorrow to sign the prenup,” Reese said. “Then we’ll have the hard part of this deal over with.” And he could take a breath. The rest would be scheduled and orchestrated, and he could go along with the motions. Few things in life were so easy.
The Billionaire Bachelor (Billionaire Bad Boys Book 1) Page 5