Pamela held out a glossy catalogue with engagement rings in different sizes set on a blue background. “This is the ring MaKayla selected. Here is the coordinating men’s ring, but you can choose whatever you like.”
Gabe looked hard at MaKayla’s ring. It was a round diamond encircled with a ring of smaller diamonds set on a platinum band. It was elegant and not as gaudy as some of the other rings on the page. However, it wasn’t the least among them, and, out of habit, he questioned her choice. Could she have picked a smaller one? Yes, there were several available. Then why go for this ring? Was it the size of diamond, or something less obvious, such as the color? Natasha hated gold, said it washed out her skin. Perhaps MaKayla was the same way. He had to trust Pamela’s screening process. She had assured him that her employees were responsible and trustworthy.
“The matching ring is fine.”
“I’ll have them both here next Wednesday. Do you have any questions?”
Gabe glared at the bag again. “Do I really have to wear that?”
Pamela laughed. “You haven’t even seen it.”
Gabe didn’t have to see it to know he’d hate wearing it. The suit might be great, but it reminded him of the way Natasha was always trying to change him. She’d buy designer suits and then pout if he didn’t wear them to dinner or, heaven forbid, if he suggested that they stay home once in a while.
Pamela tapped her chin. “I think it’s nice that she’s taken an interest in making this day stand out. It shows that she’s invested. Besides, it matches her dress.”
Gabe slouched. MaKayla already had them in matching outfits. How humiliating.
“Here, I think Trish sent me a photo.” Pamela scrolled through her phone and held it out to him when she found the image.
Gabe took it, expecting to see a dress on a hanger or a mannequin. Instead there was a stunning woman smiling for the camera, one hand on her hip and her feet bare. With her long brown hair and slim figure she looked like a model. “Is that her?” he asked without looking up.
“Yes, that’s MaKayla.”
As dumb as it sounded in his head, he hadn’t given any thought to what his wife would look like. When he placed an ad for an office manager, he didn’t require people to send in a headshot, and when he found a marriage broker, he didn’t ask her to pick someone alluring. The spark of happiness in MaKayla’s eyes was like the smell of mint in his flower garden at home: it woke him up and made him open his eyes wide to take in the beauty.
He sighed with relief. She doesn’t look anything like Natasha. Though MaKayla was wearing a designer dress, she didn’t act like a hanger meant to show it off. She wore the dress like it was an extension of her skin. Standing poised with her shoulders back, she appeared confident enough to offer a full smile and not the practiced pout Natasha favored. There was nothing calculating about this woman.
Looking from the phone to the garment bag and back again, Gabe decided that it couldn’t hurt to humor MaKayla. “Well, if she’s already bought the dress …”
Pamela took her phone back, and Gabe wished he had a copy of that picture to remind him that not all women are like Natasha. He hadn’t dated since their breakup. If he was honest with himself, he was avoiding the dating scene because he was afraid that all he’d find were more Natashas.
He said goodbye to Pamela and as he rode the elevator down to the lobby, his fingers hooked through the hanger and the garment bag thrown over his shoulder. He chastised himself for letting what happened between him and Natasha affect this marriage. He wasn’t giving his heart to MaKayla; he was hiring her to do a job … a job she was obsessive about, as evidenced by the way she coordinated their clothing for an office ceremony. If she paid as much detail to his charities as she did to this short business transaction, then she’d do well.
Gabe loosened his tie as he thought about MaKayla in her wedding dress. A situation like this was bound to have complications; it was unconventional at best. He’d have to be careful to maintain proper boundaries between them so as not to encourage thoughts like the ones he had when he looked at MaKayla’s picture.
Chapter 5
Sunday afternoon, MaKayla sat at a small table in her sister’s apartment while Brooke went through the prenup. “I knew having a lawyer in the family would pay off some day,” she joked in an attempt to lighten the mood.
Brooke had taken MaKayla’s handwritten wedding announcement as a joke. Then, when MaKayla explained the situation, she took it as a threat, acting as if MaKayla had been seduced by a cult. MaKayla had come prepared for the situation with a half-gallon of peanut butter cup ice cream and a zen-like demeanor. She’d done an hour’s worth of yoga to clear her mind and center herself before approaching her overprotective big sister.
“I’m not a lawyer yet,” said Brooke. She was still dressed in her pajamas, and would have spent the day buried in law books if MaKayla hadn’t dragged her to the kitchen table for ice cream. The longer she spent buried in the contract, the calmer she became. MaKayla took it as a good sign.
MaKayla’s yoga-zen was wearing off. “Do you think I’m crazy?”
Brooke looked up from the papers and twirled the highlighter between her fingers. “Well, when it comes down to it, the definition of a marriage is the union of two people, recognized by the law as being a union that, in this case, makes them husband and wife.” Brooke got up to refill her soda as she continued. “I’ve taken family law classes, and they never talk about love or sex being a prerequisite for marriage.” She made a face. “Although, one of the grounds for divorce or annulment, depending on the state, is the inability to consummate the marriage.”
MaKayla’s jaw dropped. “Does it say ‘consummate’ in there?” She pointed at the inch-and-a-half thick stack of papers.
Brooke waved her hand. “No. Although it does say a physical relationship isn’t forbidden as long as it is mutually agreed upon by both parties.”
MaKayla pressed her palms to the table as her cheeks burned.
Brooke noticed her discomfort. “Anytime you want to back out, I’ll be right behind you. To be fair, though, it appears that at the end of the year you’ll have a no-contest divorce in which neither party is blamed for the breakup, thus avoiding bad publicity for either of you.”
“That’s good, then. Because you know how I hate bad publicity.”
Brooke smirked at her sarcasm.
MaKayla leaned back in her chair and fiddled with one of the many pens scattered over the table while Brooke went back to reading and highlighting. A half hour later, she raised her hands above her head and stretched.
MaKayla could hardly stand it. Her excitement over quitting the hotel had grown overnight. If there was a rug that would quickly be yanked out from under her, she needed to know and know now. “Well?”
Brooke growled. “I can’t see any reason not to sign it. The document is set up to protect both of you, and you really have nothing to lose.”
MaKayla dropped her head to the table. “Then why am I so nervous?”
Brooke covered MaKayla’s hand with hers. “Because no matter what this stack of paper says, marriage means more to you than money.”
MaKayla cursed under her breath. “How do I convince myself that this isn’t a big deal?”
Brooke tipped her head from side to side, as if weighing her next words. “From all appearances, this is a great opportunity. But to be honest, it’s freaking me out a little, too.” She stood and paced the room.
MaKayla rubbed her hands up and down her arms. “It’s a calculated risk.”
Brooke stopped. “Dad would say, ‘Those are the best kind.’” They shared a smile before Brooke continued. “When I graduate next spring, I will have more debt than Mom and Dad did when they bought their first house. But ya know what? That doesn’t matter—it’s only money. What matters is that I saw my dream and I went for it. I will never have to look back on my life and wonder, What if? Some things are worth laying it all on the line for.”
MaKayla nodded, soaking in her sister’s words.
“Do you want to own your own company?”
“Yes.”
Brooke sighed in resignation. “Then go get it. If that means marrying this guy and attending board meetings for a year, do it.”
MaKayla gathered her papers and purse and headed for the door. “I guess I’m getting married.”
“Hey, MaKayla?” Brooke called after her.
“Yeah?”
“Don’t forget to call me after the wedding.” Brooke winked.
MaKayla rolled her eyes. “I won’t.”
Chapter 6
Monday afternoon, MaKayla arrived at the office of BMB quite out of breath. She’d had one of those mornings where her clients all decided to panic. She, of course, had everything under control, but confident reassurance for the prom queen nearly cost her a bumper as she tried to talk and drive, something she wasn’t very good at.
Once in the building, she barely caught the elevator before the doors shut and practically fell out when they opened on her floor. The receptionist ushered her into Harrison’s office, where she set her signature next to Gabe’s on over a dozen sheets of paper. She examined Gabe’s signature, all blocky with a final swoop at the end. She added this piece of the puzzle to the picture she was building in her head: that swoop was the eccentric side of him that balanced out the corporate image.
As she was leaving, Trish caught her arm and pulled her aside, letting out a hushed squeal. “He got the suit.”
MaKayla’s heart thumped. Anytime she made her first presentation to a client, she got butterflies. She was good at reading people, excelled at it. However, all she’d had was a picture to go off of, and making a decision as personal as clothing had been a risk—a calculated one, but a risk nonetheless. “Did he try it on?” She grabbed Trish’s hand, feeling more like the prom queen and less like a business wife.
“Not here. Pamela gave it to him when he signed the papers.”
“Oh.” MaKayla felt her heart sag. She’d hoped he would be at least a little curious.
“Anyway, did you still need his address for the flowers?”
MaKayla pressed her hand to her heart. In all the rush of prom and meeting with her sister, she’d almost forgotten to have the florist send the boutonniere to Gabe. “Yes, thank you for reminding me.”
“I’ll text it to you as soon as I get back to my office.”
“Thank you.”
“My pleasure. I’ll see you Wednesday.”
As she exited the elevator, MaKayla’s phone beeped with the info, and she hurried to send Gabe’s address to the florist as she walked to her car. She settled behind the steering wheel, pausing when she realized she had Gabe’s address. It was the first real personal tidbit of information she’d gained on her fiancé. Tapping her finger on the side of the phone, she contemplated doing a driveby. Just to check out where she would be living. That wouldn’t be high school at all. MaKayla shook herself. There was a difference between stalking a crush and previewing her new home.
Her phone beeped again, and she sighed. The text came from her replacement, Tera, wondering who they used for ice sculptures. Apparently she was easily replaceable, as her boss had hired a college grad in less than two days. Tara was competent and quick: her ability to pick up on things fast which would make MaKayla’s transition out that much easier. However, she lacked the attention to detail that MaKayla applied to the position. She ached a little to know she was leaving some of her best clients in Tara’s hands. She could only hope that after a year, they’d come running.
She hit the call button and resigned herself to work like a dog for the next forty-eight hours, so she’d have time to meet and marry Gabe on Wednesday morning, before she had to run back to work an evening event.
Chapter 7
Early Wednesday morning, Gabe tucked in his shirt and then knotted the tie MaKayla had picked out. As he slid the jacket on, he admitted that she had good taste. He liked the way the fabric felt: it had movement and didn’t weigh him down like many of his other suits did. When he checked the final product in the mirror, he was surprised to see that he just looked like himself. If he had been the one at the store, he would have bought it. One point for MaKayla.
The doorbell rang while he was slipping on his shoes, and when he went downstairs, the maid handed him a box with a clear window.
His eyes widened in horror at the small floral arrangement. Opening the lid, he smelled the heady flowers and snapped it shut again. There was no way he was going to put that thing on. MaKayla may have hit a home run with the suit—in fact, he could already see himself wearing it on a regular basis, as it wasn’t formal attire—but he was not going to go prancing into BMB with a boutonniere. He needed to set some boundaries if they were going to work together, and this was the perfect time to start drawing those lines. If he didn’t nip her enthusiasm in the bud—no pun intended—MaKayla would run all over him. And he wasn’t going to go through that again—ever.
***
MaKayla waited in Pamela’s office with Harrison and Trish. She was grateful for the wedding bouquet, because it hid her shaking hands. She wished she could have invited Brooke to stand beside her. But inviting her sister felt as unprofessional as bringing a baby to a board meeting. She was “on the clock,” and that meant her personal life had to stay tucked away.
Her early morning appointment at the salon had included a shoulder massage, a pedicure, a manicure, a trim, and a style, which had all gone a long way to make her feel like this wasn’t just a normal day. Even if she was only signing a contract, it was a marriage contract and it was important. Other people married for reasons other than love and they still treated it like it was significant, so she felt that she should too. Pressing her lips to refresh her gloss, she closed her eyes to re-center her thoughts. She pictured her new office with her name and the word “owner” on the door. When she opened her eyes, she was ready to meet her husband.
The rich smell of roses and fresh greens filled the air around her, and she took calming breaths as often as she could without passing out.
From where she stood, she could hear the elevator doors open. Pamela’s deep laugh echoed down the hall, and Harrison said, “That’s the rest of the group.”
Trish gave her hand a squeeze.
Pamela breezed through the door, followed by an older gentleman with wire glasses and heavy jowls, and then, quite suddenly, MaKayla was in the same room as her betrothed.
Gabe was easily a head taller than MaKayla, with broad shoulders and a trim waist that all looked delectable in his wedding suit. MaKayla blinked. She shouldn’t be referring to her new boss as “delectable,” even if he would be her husband. Schooling her thoughts would make all the difference. She’d worked with attractive men many times before and had been able to keep the small flame of attraction under control. Of course, she’d never worked with a man who exuded as much power and confidence as Gabe. That was a little disarming.
MaKayla’s eyes flicked to Gabe’s chest, well-defined even through the layers of fabric, to find the boutonniere she’d sent, but the spot was bare. She wondered if the florist made a mistake. Asking about the gift would put Gabe on the spot. Men who were used to being in charge didn’t like to be challenged, especially in front of a group. His flowers had been an afterthought, a small detail that would have rounded out the afternoon, but they weren’t essential. She opted not to say anything for two reasons. One, she didn’t want to put Gabe on the defensive right off the bat. The situation was awkward enough without adding to it for something as small as a boutonniere. Two, if the flower shop had messed up, Gabe would likely place the blame on her shoulders. However, if she never brought it up, he would never be the wiser. Better to act as if everything were going according to plan than make a scene. Today was about making a good first impression.
Smiling, she took Gabe’s hand as Pamela introduced them. “It’s nice to finally meet you,” she said. His handshake was firm yet
gentle, and when they pulled apart she felt the loss of his warmth.
Trish moved them all into place before the justice of the peace. They said “I do,” exchanged rings, and before she had a chance to blink, she was married.
***
The ceremony, if you could call it that, wrapped up, and Gabe checked his watch. He noted that if the parking garage charged by the half hour, he would be out of there with the minimal fee.
He’d also noted that MaKayla was a rare combination of beauty and business. Her dress, a wispy thing the color of milk chocolate, floated around her curves in an alluring yet classy way. Her matching eyes were pools of emotion, intelligence, and wit.
He hadn’t missed her glance at his lapel, and his defenses immediately went up. He said his “I do” through tight lips and didn’t offer MaKayla his arm, as he’d previously planned on doing for their walk to the elevator.
Gabe wasn’t sure what to say to this beautiful stranger who was now his wife. He cleared his throat as they walked to his car and tried desperately to think of something to ease the awkwardness that grew between them like a thorny rosebush. Awkwardness that was completely his fault. He’d put up the wall.
MaKayla had a small smile, but every time their eyes met, she looked quickly away. Gabe sensed the tension rolling off him. He needed to talk himself down before he scared her away. If her resume was any indication, she was a strong investment, and, as with all his investments, he needed to take care of it … her. He needed to take care of her … them? Their marriage.
Scrambling for a way to break the ice, Gabe hurried over to open her door. She slid gracefully in, doing that swivel thing women did in dresses to keep their knees together. Another classy move that said MaKayla was a lady. He liked that.
As he shut his door, Gabe spied the small package he’d placed in the back seat this morning. Stretching, he plucked the gift from its place, held it out, and smiled. “I got you this.”
The Organized Bride (Billionaire Marriage Brokers Book 2) Page 3