The Billionaire's Bodyguard Bride

by Weaver, Lisa

  “Exactly. I’m so glad you get it. I just hope Frank can forgive me.”

  “Learning the woman he thought was a mild-mannered librarian is actually a top-notch covert bodyguard is a lot to process. Give him time. He’ll come around.”

  “I hope so. And what about you and Rafe? Are you sure you really want to commit to this bargain he’s proposed? A year is a long time to play-act married bliss. We can still protect him if you decide not to go through with it.”

  “I know, but it’s easier this way. And I really want to do this, so you can stop worrying. I’ll be fine.”

  Stephanie held up her hands in mock surrender. “Okay. But you’re not to give even a second’s consideration to any random acts of heroics. If you get an inkling that something is about to go down, you’d better call in backup.”

  “I will,” Lauren promised. But her physical safety was the least of her worries. No amount of backup could protect her in the face of her greatest concern. How was she going to protect her heart?

  Chapter Six

  Thursday morning dawned murky and wet. Rafe paced the length of his den, glaring at the overcast skies that mirrored his stormy mood. With an impatient flick of his wrist, he checked his watch again. His bride, he seethed, was late.

  Her brother’s career was on the line. Surely Lauren wouldn’t renege on their agreement. Or would she? She had given him her word she’d see their deal through, but how much stock could he really place in her promise given her history? He was certain she was capable of backing out of this marriage of convenience without the slightest twinge of conscience. Every time he looked into her eyes he saw secrets lurking in their emerald-green depths, and secrets could be dangerous.

  Running a hand through his dark hair in barely contained exasperation, he resumed his pacing. Maybe she was stuck in traffic, he allowed.

  Or perhaps, the devil’s advocate side of his subconscious taunted, she’d decided to give him a taste of his own medicine. The notion was oddly unsettling, making him wonder if he was indeed as immune to her as he’d thought.

  He’d been certain he had the upper hand when he conceptualized his plan. He had even been looking forward to extracting a little pleasure from this mess fate had forced on him. He certainly hadn’t foreseen Lauren working her way under his skin again.

  She was a clever one, smoothly charming him when they’d spent the day together yesterday, just as she had in Greece. But he hadn’t reached the pinnacle of success he’d attained by being weak.

  It was nothing more than a bad case of lust that had his blood pulsing hot and his mind dulled to everything but her. It had been too long since he’d lost himself in a woman. He simply needed to satiate his need. Too bad the one thing that could put an end to the distracting thoughts tantalizing him by day and hijacking his dreams by night was out of reach. He had promised he’d uphold the vows he and Lauren would exchange today, and his bride of convenience was determined not to give in to her physical need for him. The end result was a frustrating stalemate.

  Stalemate aside, he had a more pressing problem to deal with. Pulling off a wedding would be an impossible feat as long as the bride-to-be remained conspicuously absent.

  Palming his cell phone, he tapped Lauren’s name. He was about to tap her number when his butler entered the room.

  “Your fiancée has arrived, sir.”

  Something akin to relief washed over him. He brushed the feeling aside, not willing to psychoanalyze the root of it.

  “Thank you, George. I’ll greet her at the door. Can you let Maria know she’s here?”

  “Certainly, sir.”

  Dismissing his butler, he opened the door to Lauren’s knock himself. “Cutting it a bit close, aren’t you?”

  “I told you I’d be here,” Lauren replied. “And I’m early, actually. You said the ceremony was slated for nine. It’s only eight. You weren’t worried were you?”

  “Of course not,” he dismissed offhandedly. “I merely assumed you might want some time to prepare.” Motioning for her to follow him, he led her into the living room.

  “You call this a country house?” she murmured in awe as she took in the vaulted ceilings, hardwood floors, and elaborate furnishings. “This is a mansion.”

  “You’ll find there’s plenty of room to spread out. I’ll give you the grand tour later, but for now I’ll show you to our suite. Maria, my housekeeper, has set out everything you’ll need there.”

  She raised a blonde eyebrow. “I hope I didn’t hear you say ‘our suite.’ I’m pretty sure I made my feelings on that subject clear. No shared bed. Ever.”

  “I got your message loud and clear the first time around. If you’re worried I’ll try to force you into intimacy, you needn’t be. I can assure you I’m perfectly capable of controlling my baser instincts. The fact remains that in order for this arrangement to culminate in the outcome we both desire, you’re going to have to make a concession or two. Sleeping in my bed is one of them. Should someone on my staff notice we’re sleeping apart and let it slip, Fullerton could catch wind of it and it would blow the deal.”

  “Why not tell your staff we won’t be sharing the same room because your snoring keeps me awake?” she quipped.

  “Because that would be a lie, and I don’t mislead my employees. Or anyone else for that matter.”

  “Is that so,” Lauren replied sarcastically. “Then what do you call what you’re doing now with this little ruse of yours? You don’t think you’re playing mind games with Fullerton?”

  The pulse in his jaw ticked into overdrive. “I’m not proud I had to take this particular approach, but regrettably it’s the only way.” Stopping at a heavy oak door at the end of the hall, he opened it before turning towards her. “Here we are.”

  Decorated in shades of cream and green, the suite was spectacular. But it was the masterpiece in white silk hanging from the wardrobe door that had Lauren sucking in an amazed breath. Rafe had told her he had made arrangements for her wedding dress, but she had no idea he’d gone to such lengths. “It’s the DeChamps I modeled for the fashion show,” she murmured in awed disbelief. “You didn’t!”

  “Oh, but I did,” Rafe countered with a self-satisfied smile. “It’s yours.”

  “But why? The gown is far too elaborate for a simple private ceremony.”

  “When I saw you wearing it at the benefit, I knew it was meant for you. No one else could do this dress justice. Besides, it’s perfect for the wedding photos. You’ll look like a true Dimitriou bride.”

  “This isn’t a real marriage in any sense of the word. It’s just a parody.”

  “It can be as real as you want it to be.” He stepped up behind her and nuzzled her neck, pressing heated kisses along her soft nape. A shiver ran down her spine, and she had to swallow the moan of pleasure that raced, unbidden, up her throat.

  She forced herself to step away when she really wanted to turn and melt into his arms. “Not without love in the mix it can’t,” she avowed. “When I give myself to a man again, it will be because I know he feels something for me that runs deeper than physical attraction. I want his heart along with his body.”

  “If you change your mind, know that I’m more than willing to pick up where we left off. I’ll expect you to play your part when we’re in public, however, and that will entail the occasional gesture of affection.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll hold up my end of our bargain.”

  “Good,” Rafe nodded, apparently satisfied with her answer. “I’ll leave you to get ready. Maria will be along in a few minutes to help you with your gown.”

  He walked out without a backward glance, leaving her alone to absorb what had just transpired.

  Lauren had assured Rafe she could handle her role, but contemplating the small intimacies that would be required to convince others of their newly wedded bliss gave her pause. How was she going to keep her emotions in check when simply standing beside him had all her senses rioting? Was segregating the emotional pul
l she felt for him even possible when her brain short-circuited every time he was in her sights?

  Exchanging her street clothes for the exquisite wedding dress made her feel like a princess in a fairy tale. She also felt like a fraud. There wouldn’t be a happily-ever-after ending to this story. The gown was meant to be worn to mark a union of love rather than this farce of an arrangement. The dress deserved better. She deserved better.

  Rafe might want her, but he didn’t love her. She needed to remember that. She’d believed he was her Prince Charming once before and look what had happened. He’d morphed into a heart-crushing ogre.

  Okay, maybe that was unjustly harsh. He’d behaved like an ogre because he believed she’d betrayed his family. He saw her as a cold, heartless traitor who had wormed her way into his life with the express purpose of bringing scandal to the Dimitriou family. But it hadn’t been like that.

  And, to be fair, his ogre side had mellowed a bit over the past few days. Rafe had been attentive, thoughtful, and considerate. Of course he had every reason to be, she reminded herself. He needed her to secure his deal, a deal that meant so much to him he was willing to put aside her supposed treachery and, if not let bygones be bygones, at least tolerate the enemy and invite her under his roof. And into his bed.

  A knock on the door interrupted her musings, and Lauren opened it to find an older woman with softly curling gray hair and warm blue eyes smiling at her.

  “I’m Maria, Rafe’s housekeeper.”

  “It’s very nice to meet you, Maria. “Thanks for offering to lend a hand. It would take a contortionist to do up all these buttons.”

  “It’s a gorgeous gown, and you make a stunning bride,” Maria beamed, setting to work fastening the buttons. “The staff here are all so thrilled Rafe has found someone to share his life with. He’s a very special man.”

  “I know,” Lauren admitted honestly. For as much as she resented Rafe for the way he’d so callously cast her aside in Greece, she understood, at least partially, why he had. He believed she’d betrayed him, stomping all over his deeply ingrained values of honesty and integrity in the process.

  “Rafe told me about your parents,” Maria relayed gently. “I’m sorry. It’s tough enough to lose a mother at such a young age. It’s doubly difficult to have lost your father as well. Rafe says the only other family you have to share this special day with is your brother. Will he be giving you away?”

  “Yes. Since it’s just Luke and me, and because Rafe’s father is overseas and unable to be home for the wedding, we opted for a simple ceremony with you and my brother as witnesses.”

  “I’m honored to be a part of it. And you look stunning,” Maria pronounced, stepping back to admire her handiwork. “Your brother is waiting to see you. May I send him in?”

  “Absolutely,” Lauren assured her.

  Luke entered the room, coming to a halt as he caught his first glimpse of her in the wedding dress. “Wow,” he exclaimed with a loving smile. “You’re a vision. You remind me so much of Mom. She’d be proud.”

  “If you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to get all weepy and my mascara will run. I’ll look like a raccoon.”

  “The most beautiful raccoon on the planet,” he insisted with a tender smile before his expression turned serious. “Are you sure about this, Lauren? You don’t owe Dimitriou anything after the way he treated you, and you certainly don’t have to do this for the agency. It’s not too late to bail.”

  “I know, but this is the best solution. You won’t have to establish another cover career, and Sentinels will be able to protect Rafe more effectively if I’m on the inside. It’s a win-win.”

  “It’s not a win for you. I know you say you can separate yourself from the emotional side of things, but it’s going to be harder than you think.”

  “Maybe, but I’m willing to chance it.”

  “You’ve always been stubborn,” Luke sighed.

  Lauren drew her brother in for a warm hug. “And it’s one of the many things you love about me,” she teased.

  “You’ve got me there,” he said, fiercely returning her hug. “Just promise me you’ll stay sharp and be safe. I have a suspicion Philip isn’t being entirely honest with Sentinels regarding the nature of these threats. I think they may be tied to Lawrence Mendacci.”

  “The man Philip was lunching with when I took those photos in Greece? Rafe insisted the only dealing his father ever had with the man was selling him a stallion. You think there’s more?,” she queried, as a knock sounded on the door.

  “It’s possible. Just be extra careful until we know for sure what we’re dealing with, okay?”

  She nodded as a second knock sounded on the door. “Come in.”

  Maria poked her head into the room. “Rafe asked me to let you know he’s waiting downstairs for you whenever you’re ready.”

  She wasn’t sure she’d ever be ready, but she took Luke’s hand and they made their way downstairs to Rafe’s study .

  Her groom had chosen a black tuxedo and paired it with a sharp white dress shirt. A tidal wave of heat crashed over her at the sight of him. Luke was right. Handling Rafe’s potent allure without getting in over her head wouldn’t be easy.

  But as dangerous as this move was to her heart, there was no turning back now. If she bailed on their agreement, there was a very real possibility that Sentinels would not be able to protect Rafe from the threat looming over him and his family. She couldn’t chance that.

  The irony of her current situation wasn’t lost on her. Rafe believed she’d lied to him two years ago when, in truth, she hadn’t. Now she really was deceiving him. Still there wasn’t any alternative but to continue on the path she was on. She had to find a way to pull this off. His life depended on it.

  There was a sense of déjà vu as they exchanged vows. Only this time the celebrant was real, not an actor playing a part.

  When the time came to seal their union with a kiss, she steeled herself, prepared for Rafe to charge her defenses. Instead, he merely brushed her lips with his before pulling away.

  The remoteness of the gesture and his sudden withdrawal surprised her. Was he having second thoughts about having chosen her to carry out his charade? She knew she should be relieved he wasn’t trying to pressure her. So why, instead, did she find the chaste kiss so disconcerting?

  She was spared from contemplating her reaction when the photographer requested they adjourn to the gardens for more pictures. Following the shoot, they mingled at a champagne and hors d’oeuvres celebration with Luke, Maria, and the rest of Rafe’s household staff.

  An hour later, she found herself alone with her groom.

  “One final toast,” he pronounced, topping off the champagne she’d barely touched. “To the success of our new partnership. And to the ‘more’ we’ve yet to discover.”

  Lauren touched the delicate crystal flute in her hand to his matching glass. “To our strictly professional business agreement,” she clarified. “There is nothing more.”

  “Oh, but there most definitely will be,” Rafe countered, his piercing blue gaze alight with a melding of confidence and desire that made her breath catch in her throat and her pulse hit warp speed. “You’re fooling yourself if you think there won’t be. Just how much more, Mrs. Dimitriou, is up to you.”

  Chapter Seven

  Standing in the entryway of the Fullertons’ estate a few hours later, being welcomed by the CEO of Gracious Living himself, Lauren thought Rafe couldn’t have chosen a more fitting description of Chuck Fullerton than “down-to-earth.” He was wonderfully approachable, and not at all what she’d expected.

  “I’m sorry this event coincided with your honeymoon,” he apologized as he shook Rafe’s hand. “I’m thrilled you’re able to join us.”

  “We’re pleased to be here,” Rafe assured him, returning his warm greeting.

  “And this must be Lauren,” he beamed, appraising her with shrewd blue eyes. “You’ve chosen well. Congratulations to you b
oth. My wife is out on the patio putting the finishing touches on the floral arrangements for this evening’s welcome dinner. Grace is passionate about her flowers,” he relayed with an indulgent grin. “She’s hoping you’ll join us there for coffee.”

  “That sounds wonderful,” Lauren smiled.

  Flowers weren’t Grace Fullerton’s only passion, Lauren mused, spotting the look of love in the woman’s eyes when she saw her husband walking towards her. It was obvious she was crazy about him, and it was clear the feeling was mutual.

  They chatted with the Fullertons over coffee, and afterwards the couple took them on a personal tour of the house and grounds. Despite its sprawling size, the mansion held an inherent warmth and hominess.

  “You must be worn out from the long drive, dear, not to mention the excitement of the wedding,” Grace observed when they completed the tour. “I remember when Chuck and I were married. By the time we exchanged our vows, I was so exhausted I could have slept for a week.”

  “As I recall you got a second wind in time for the honeymoon,” Chuck told his bride of fifty years with a wink.

  Lauren wondered what it would be like to share half a century with someone who still looked at you as though you were as essential to him as the very air he breathed. She wanted to find out. She wanted to be swept up into her very own fairy tale with a man who would value her love and not toss her heart aside. Too bad Rafe wasn’t that man.

  They returned to the patio to find the Fullertons’ butler waiting for them.

  “This is Malcolm,” Chuck introduced.

  The butler’s dark hair was cut military style, and he carried himself with the demeanor of a well-trained security expert. Lauren would bet her paycheck Malcolm wore more than one hat in Chuck Fullerton’s employ.

  “Malcolm will take your bags up to your suite and see that you’re settled in,” Chuck relayed. “Our other guests should be arriving shortly. We’ll meet in the dining room at seven for dinner. Please feel free to enjoy the pool or the tennis courts or explore the grounds until then.”