Spring Break Bride: A Virgin For The Billionaire Fake Marriage Romance

by Vivien Vale

  “Yeah, yeah, but you know, bud, I can’t help it. The heart wants what it wants. And, unfortunately, I just didn’t want to get married—yet.”

  “Then why the fuck did you propose to her in the first place?” I stop trying to hide my anger.

  “Why do you think, man? For her pussy, of course.”

  “You what?” I try not to shout. Shouting will wake Nicole for sure.

  What did the prick just say to me?

  The heart wants what it wants.

  Finally, a modicum of truth. I can definitely fucking relate to that sentiment.

  “If you’re so upset on her behalf,” Ryan laughs at the other end, “maybe you should marry her in my place.”

  Already did that.

  “Ha, right…” He doesn’t need to know. He’ll find out soon enough, and I really hope he kicks himself one day in the future.

  I hear a woman’s voice on the other end calling for Ryan. “Sorry, bud, gotta go. Thanks again and enjoy Venice for me!”

  With that, he hangs up, and I’m left staring at my phone.

  What a fucking douchebag my best friend turned out to be.

  I say that, but inside, I’m thrilled because I don’t have to watch the two of them be happy together. Although, knowing Ryan, he would have suppressed her personality and passion, turning her into a shell of what she truly is.

  This is by far the best thing he’s ever done for her. Now all I’ve got to do is convince my wife of this.

  I laugh.

  I lean back against the wall in the hallway, my mind addled with thoughts. Thoughts of Ryan, thoughts of how to tell Nicole that she’s my wife.

  My wife. My wife. My wife.

  God, how I love the sound of that. I’m gonna call her that every time I have the opportunity, because she’s a gift that I never expected to fall into my fucking lap. Or the canal, but I digress.

  Instead of restricting her, I’m gonna let her be free…be free to explore and indulge in her passions, be free to let loose and have fun. And she’ll do it all by my side. Together, we shall conquer.

  I place my hand on the doorknob and head back into the suite. I miss being near her already.

  The only thing I want to do right now is be by her side. I want to watch her sleep and dream about the future we’ll have together.

  I’m sure tomorrow she’ll be mad and confused, and she may even ask for an annulment.

  Not that I intend to give her one.

  I plan to keep her by my side forever.

  I lie back down next to her, wrap my arm around her waist, and marvel at how good she feels in my arms.

  I let my eyes fall shut.

  The rest can fucking wait ‘til tomorrow. I’ll figure it all out.

  Before I fall asleep, I notice her roll onto her side and throw one arm over me. Her fingers rest on my lower abdomen, and suddenly, I feel as if I won’t be able to get to sleep.

  Without disturbing her, I roll toward her and lean forward.

  I can’t resist. Those lips are just begging to be kissed.

  Ever so lightly, I let my mouth touch hers. I cover her in tiny butterfly kisses.

  A soft moan escapes her lips. The sound warms my heart.

  Finally, I lay my head back on the pillow and close my eyes.

  In the morning, I’ll talk to her. In the morning, we’ll plan the rest of our lives together.

  In the morning…

  Chapter 13

  Nicole

  The light streaming through the open drapes is bright. Maybe that’s what woke me up.

  Stretching, I gaze around the room in wonder. The honeymoon suite really is beautiful. The sheer drapes filter in the early morning sun.

  Flipping onto my back, I turn my head to see my new husband. No Ryan. Maybe he’s in the bathroom?

  Arching my back, I stretch, stroking the luxurious sheets. They even smell wonderful!

  Needing to answer the call of nature, I note I’m still wearing my wedding dress as I work my way towards the end of the bed. Too bad.

  I had big plans to strip it off. Slowly. Seductively.

  Well, there’s always tonight.

  Pulling off the thigh-high stockings, the cool tiles on my feet make my bathroom trip more urgent.

  Washing my hands, I realize that something about yesterday was not quite right.

  Ryan’s bathroom bag is on the counter. But I don’t recognize anything. He has a favorite electric toothbrush and an electric razor. The cologne is new, too.

  Something definitely isn’t right.

  Just thinking about the kisses we shared makes me wish I hadn’t drank so much last night. His kisses were perfect.

  Melting. Toe-curling. Basically, just all-around perfect…which is interesting, considering kissing was something Ryan never seemed to enjoy.

  When we did kiss, sometimes I felt like he opened his mouth too much. Leaving slobber around the side of my mouth. It wasn’t something that we really did a lot of, and if I was perfectly honest, that was fine by me.

  But yesterday, he was like a totally different person.

  Walking out of the bathroom, I look around more closely. There must be something I’ll recognize.

  The bed is the main centerpiece of the room. Gossamer drapes artfully decorate the canopy. Flower petals are sprinkled on the floor in a trail from the door to the bed. I finger one that’s still on the bottom of it.

  And the marriage vows. They were so beautiful. Ryan would never be accused of being a romantic. His last word on the vows was a put-out “Fine”.

  Someone must have written them for him, right? Could he have written them?

  What am I thinking! Who else could have?

  The door beeps and swings open. Dante walks in with the room service cart and parks it by the table.

  What the hell?

  Legs like noodles, I drop unceremoniously onto the bed. Looking at him, I realize my mouth is hanging open.

  Snapping it closed, I note he’s very nonchalant.

  “Coffee, sunshine?” He puts the mugs on the table and fills them with steaming coffee.

  Moving to the chair, I watch him fix my mug perfectly. He obviously paid attention to what I like.

  “What are you doing here?”

  He continues unpacking the cart. Mm, pancakes. I love pancakes.

  “Let me just finish here really quick.” He seems determined to deflect my questions.

  Oh, god! What now?

  “I don’t think you should be here,” I start, and wonder what happened to Ryan. Instantly, I think of the possibility of an accident.

  Sinking into the other chair, he grabs the napkin and puts it on his lap. “Well, technically, we’re married. This is my room, too.”

  What?

  “What?” I don’t recognize my own voice. It’s small and tight.

  Is this a joke? I keep waiting for the punch line. I expect him to tell me he was just dropping our tray and Ryan will be right back. Now I wouldn’t even mind if he added that “Ryan’s had an accident so he won’t be back till later”.

  Anything would sound better than what he’d just said.

  But Ryan has never brought me breakfast in bed before.

  He would never bring me pancakes, and certainly not coffee.

  He doesn’t even like me drinking coffee. Says it stains your teeth, which I guess it would, if you didn’t brush your teeth regularly.

  “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but Ryan sent me a message yesterday. Said he was in Rome, said he had a better offer, and expected me to clean up his mess.”

  Suddenly, he’s by my side. I’m dimly aware of his hand on my shoulder.

  What the fuck?

  That can’t be true.

  Right?

  Where is he?

  Hopping up, I search the room for my phone.

  “Where’s my phone?”

  Dante points to an entry table by the door.

  The lump in my throat is so large, and my heart! Good L
ord, my heart! It’s beating as if I’ve run a race.

  I’m not even sure I can speak at this point. I’m hyperventilating, and I know it!

  Think, damn it.

  Luckily, my fingers work my phone automatically as I flip to my message stream with Ryan and hit his contact to call him.

  As it rings, I feel my back slowly slide down the wall until my butt hits the floor. My white dress is too tight to sit cross legged, but I bunch it a bit as I hear Ryan’s voicemail kicking in.

  “What happened…? I… Call me.”

  What was I going to say?

  I want to scream and shout and wail and pull my hair!

  Is this shock? I’m hurt and angry…and confused.

  Dante drops to his knees in front of me. Bracing myself on my knees, he rubs them gently as we look at one another.

  “Are you okay? You don’t have to talk to him right now.” He plops on his butt in front of me. “He’s going to kill me, you know. You think you’re angry, but he’s a motherfucking asshole.” His hands move from my knees to my hands, gently removing my phone and setting it next to me.

  “How can this be? How…why?”

  Flabbergasted is putting it mildly at this point. With my mind in turmoil, I know I’m not processing anything properly.

  “All I could think about was what an idiot Ryan was. Ever since I met you, I wanted you.” Moving closer, he anxiously squeezes my hands. “I knew it was wrong when I found out who you were. I was—no, am—so attracted to you. And as I got to know you and found out what a fabulous, awesome person you are, I’ve been so jealous.”

  Tears stream down my face. I know he means well but just deciding to be a substitute husband wasn’t what I needed or was looking for.

  “Ryan is a piece of shit who blew off your wedding. It’s harsh, I know. I’ve been struggling with how to tell you. But how could I tell you without looking and sounding like I was just trying to steal you? When he contacted me to ‘just take care of it like the best man you’re supposed to be’, I just…I just—fuck! I don’t know.” He releases me to rub his face.

  “I meant what I said last night.” Moving closer, he pulls me into his body. “I know you don’t understand. Fuck, even I don’t understand. But I know how I feel about you. Let me have some time to show you how serious I was last night.”

  I was so happy last night! Sure, in hindsight, some of the reasons it was so great was because it was Dante.

  I’m not an idiot. I do know that.

  But essentially, I was stiffed at the altar! Jilted!

  The man I’d put my hopes and dreams into and wanted to spend the rest of my life with was a no-show! Fucking asshole.

  I’m bawling now. It doesn’t make sense, but I feel ashamed.

  Ashamed that I wasn’t wanted. Ashamed that I was duped so easily. Ashamed that I was going to have to tell all my friends and family about this.

  The very idea makes my stomach lurch. Yanking my dress out from under me, I scramble up as carefully as I can and sprint for the bathroom.

  Slamming the door behind me, I spend a few minutes dry heaving.

  Tears and snot, now bile. Stupid, stupid, stupid!

  My reflection looks terrible. I wet a wash cloth and hold it to my face. I just can’t seem to stop crying.

  Quickly, I brush my teeth and start the shower.

  As I’m undressing, I think about how I dreamed of being undressed by Ryan for our first night together. My tears start all over again.

  Why? Was it me?

  The shower steam fills the room quickly as I get under the spray.

  This is perfect to just let all my sobs out.

  Fuck, what an asshole.

  I can’t believe someone that I thought loved me would do this to me. Am I that bad of a judge of character?

  As I cry, I think about Dante in the other room.

  He seems perfect. Is that another misjudgment?

  Sure, a part of me acknowledges that this is exactly what I wanted. Dante’s kisses were like a five-course feast compared to Ryan’s bowl of stew.

  But Ryan said he loved me! He said he would marry me. How could he just stiff me like that?

  And if Ryan could lie, ask me to marry him, how sincere can Dante’s vows be when we’ve only known each other for two days?

  He’s his best man, for Christ’s sake!

  It’s just too much to process. My chest hurts. Crumpling to the shower floor, a little voice in my head comments, Well, at least it’s clean!

  I laugh, and it turns to sobbing. Again.

  The water cascades over my head as I bawl.

  It’s just too much. Too crazy and too much.

  Chapter 14

  Dante

  I pace back and forth in front of the bathroom door, a war waging in my head. Part of me knows that she needs time to process what I’ve done, but another part wants nothing more than to go to her.

  All of my justifications from yesterday feel suddenly hollow in the face of her pain. Ryan may be the one that jilted her, but I certainly wasted no time capitalizing on the situation.

  I feel like the shittiest person on the planet.

  I stop pacing, raising a hand to knock.

  It stops just short of the door, unable to follow through with the intrusion.

  I don’t know how to handle this situation. I knew that telling her would be rough, but I had hoped she’d recognize what a huge blessing this really is.

  Was I a total fool?

  She dodged a bullet. Marrying Ryan would’ve been the worst mistake of her life.

  My guilt at stepping into his place is earned, but so is my happiness at what she inadvertently evaded.

  My head falls forward to rest against the door, the cool wood like a balm against the headache forming there.

  If I feel so overwhelmed, I can only imagine what she’s going through.

  “Nicole!” I call out, not liking the desperation in my own voice. I take a deep breath, trying to calm the maelstrom raging in my mind.

  “Nicole, please, let’s just talk about this.”

  I hear no answer from the other side, just the persistent falling water.

  I raise my hand again, this time allowing my knuckles to strike against the wood.

  “Look, if you would just let me explain…” I trail off, not sure what more to say.

  My feelings for Nicole are still surprising, even to me.

  The fact that they led me down this crazy path is even more so. I rack my brain, trying to find the words to explain, trying to find some mystery phrase that will suddenly make this disastrous situation all right.

  Nothing comes, nothing that hasn’t already been said.

  Words fail me here, and I realize belatedly that it’s because words just aren’t enough for this situation. If Nicole is ever going to believe the depths of my feelings, I’ll have to show her. Prove them to her in a way that Ryan never did—or would, for that matter.

  Show, not tell.

  I rap my knuckles against the door, harder this time. I refuse to leave her in there alone, confused and overwhelmed.

  The door gives way with a small creak of annoyance, opening several inches at the insistence of my fist.

  I damn near slap myself for not trying the knob in the first place.

  Of course, it’s unlocked.

  “Nicole…” I say more calmly, stepping through the doorway.

  It isn’t until I’m halfway into the bathroom that I can hear her sobs. My heart aches at the sound of them, urging me to be near her.

  The glass of the shower door is completely fogged, making it difficult to find so much as an outline. It isn’t until I’m right at it that I spot her, curled up on the shower floor, her cries only growing more desperate.

  Without thinking, I yank the door open in a rush, stepping under the hot sprays of water. My eyes fall over her, her body prone, tense with emotion.

  It’s with a great force of will that I drag my eyes back to her face.

/>   “Oh, Nicole…” I whisper, lowering myself onto the floor beside her. “Everything’s gonna be okay.”

  I lay a hand gently on her shoulder, testing her reaction.

  When she doesn’t pull away, I scoot closer, locking my arms defensively around her.

  “I know I screwed up here,” I say, my face lowered to her ear, “but I promise, I’m going to make this up to you.”

  Her sobs ease, trickling off into the occasional soft groan.

  “How?” she asks, finally glancing up at me.

  Her eyes rake over my sopping wet form. Beads of water fall from my drenched hair, my clothes sticking tightly to my body.

  I’ve never felt relief so great as I do when a giggle escapes her.

  “You look ridiculous,” she laughs.

  I glance down at myself—she has a point.

  “Maybe so,” I say in my most serious tone, a smile tugging at my lips, “but I mean it, Nicole. I’m going to make this right, whatever it takes.”

  She stares at me a long moment, water rushing down her face.

  “Well, I guess you’ll have to,” she finally starts. “You’re my husband, after all.”

  A full smile stretches my face. Hearing her say it, so matter of factly, makes my heart soar.

  “That I am.”

  Silence falls over us, surprisingly comfortable.

  The water continues to fall, further seeping its way into my clothes. I pay it little mind, my thoughts elsewhere.

  I feel absolutely pulled into her eyes, now staring at me in contemplation. What I wouldn’t give to hear what she’s thinking.

  Her new reality is definitely going to take a lot of processing, I’m sure of that. The way she’s looking at me now, though, so open, I feel like there may truly be a happy ending in all of this mess.

  “Okay,” I say before I’ve even really decided to, “so I’m gonna need you to get ready.”

  The intensity of her stare breaks, confusion once again taking up place in her gaze.

  “Ready for what?”

  “For Venice!” I say, trying hard to sound extra cheerful.

  She tilts her head in question.