by Nikki Chase
“Are you sure you don't want a real wedding, kitten?” Ethan asks, as if he can read my mind.
This is not the first time he asks about having a “real wedding,” like a vow renewal and a reception. We’ve already had the paperwork taken care of the first time we got married in his office, so we won't have to repeat that.
“Yeah.” I’ve been telling him I’d rather use the time and money to travel as a family, which is why we’re here now.
“You know we can afford to have a family vacation and a wedding, right?” Ethan asks.
I laugh. “Yeah, I know you have truckloads of money.”
“‘We,’” Ethan says, correcting me. “Whatever is mine is yours now. It has been one year, kitten. When are you going to realize that?”
“I don't know. Sometimes I just can't believe how lucky I am. Everything still seems like a dream.”
“It's okay. We have all the time in the world,” he says with a smile.
“Yeah.” I return his smile. We may not have exchanged any real vows, but I don't doubt for one moment that Ethan plans to stay in my life forever. “Real wedding” or not, he’s the love of my life. He's the person I want to grow old with.
What's a wedding for, anyway? I’ve seen too many dysfunctional marriages to believe in the institution. A marriage certificate didn't stop my dad from leaving.
We’re a family. Just another American family in the Caribbean, enjoying a vacation.
Right now, we’re just Ethan, Megan, and Penny. Oh, and my Mom—she’s the matriarch now that she has a step-grandchild.
Mom has never had the money to travel before, so I was ecstatic when Ethan said there's enough room for her in his—I mean our—private jet. She makes a great babysitter; it warms my heart to watch her play with Penny.
True to her words, Mom has been spending more time in the city, staying over every couple of weeks, giving Ethan and me some opportunities to be alone.
Mom has been making comments, comparing my relationship with hers. It's slowly dawning on her that she can do better than Frank, that she can hope for a healthy relationship like the one I have with Ethan.
I’m hoping this vacation will give her some space to think and make plans.
She's always welcome in our home, of course. But she’d probably want to keep her home and kick Frank out, and that’ll take some time. Luckily, we have Ethan’s team of lawyers on our side. Oops, I just did it again—our team of lawyers, I mean.
The legal team should be able to resolve things pretty quickly, even if they are getting busy with the upcoming case against Lucas Murdoch. At my urging, Ethan has been taking the complaints of people who were wronged by Primaland and having his lawyer prepare a case on their behalf.
Previously, he was worried that countering Murdoch’s attacks against him would incite him to do something worse and affect Penny in some way. But after lengthy talks with Penny, he realized that she’s old enough to understand what's going on, and she fully supports the lawsuit.
Taking care of Lucas Murdoch will take care of Ashley as well. Without his money and the might of his PR team behind her, there won’t be much she can do.
Hopefully, everything will go smoothly and we’ll be able to help everyone—my Mom, as well as Lucas Murdoch’s victims.
I think this experience has made Ethan more mindful of how his giant corporation can affect small, local businesses. Despite his shareholders’ protests, he has decided to scale down on his expansion plan so his team can conduct extensive research and make sure to take local communities into full consideration.
But whether we succeed or not, the main thing is that our little family is happy—including Mom, even if she's still technically living with Frank, at least for the next couple of months.
We’re happy, healthy, and we stick together.
After going through a few tumultuous years, I’ve learned not to take things for granted. There are always going to be problems in life—sometimes big and sometimes, thankfully, small. But with Ethan on my side, I feel like I can do anything.
Honestly, I haven't said this to anyone, but I'm even thinking about maybe having a baby with Ethan.
Wait, don't get excited yet. I said maybe. In the future.
I still want to focus my energy on my career right now; in fact, I’ve just gotten a pretty good internship at a broadsheet newspaper right here in San Francisco.
It's just that I’d never found the idea of parenthood to be appealing. But then I look at Penny and I think, maybe it wouldn't be so bad; maybe it would be pretty cool. Just accepting it as a possibility is a big step for me.
“What are you thinking about?” Ethan asks, looking at me with that smile that makes my knees go weak. Luckily for me, I’m reclining on a lounge chair on the beach, relaxed as can be.
“You,” I answer honestly. “And our future together.”
Ethan takes my hand and strokes the back of it with his fingers. Our gazes lock, and I know he's thinking the same thing: everything is perfect just the way it is, and we can’t wait to grow old together.
The Billionaire’s Bride
A Fake Marriage Romance
Prologue
Ali
An icy chill runs through my whole body. I can’t tell if it’s because of the cold marble tiles under my bare feet, or because I’m terrified of what’s waiting for me behind this door—who’s waiting for me.
I pull the door open and find the room already dark and quiet. A figure on the bed stirs—I can hear the sheets rustling.
“Hey, Mrs. Harris,” Zeke greets me. He has been calling me that all day.
Back when I was younger, years and years ago, I would’ve been happy to hear it. But now… Now I’m conflicted.
Back then, there was only love for him.
But now, there are so many different emotions I can’t even hope to name them all. Anger, disappointment, sadness—they’re all there.
And yes, that love is still there, too, despite my best efforts to kill it.
“Stop calling me that,” I say curtly.
“Okay… wifey.” Zeke grins as he flips the blanket open and pats the space on the bed next to him. In that low, seductive tone that I haven’t heard in a long time, he says, “It’s our wedding night. Come join me.”
Electric currents rip through my body, sending goosebumps all over my skin and waking up all my senses. My body longs for him.
Even after all this time, being alone with him in the dark evokes so many memories. So many different emotions.
Lust. Trepidation. Yearning. Fear.
I lie down on the bed and pull the blanket over my body, all the way up to my shoulders. I’m fully aware that Zeke is staring at me, watching my every reaction.
I’m also fully aware of the fact that he’s naked—or almost naked, at least.
The blanket only covers the bottom half of him, and I can see the solid lines of his muscular abs, as well as the tattoos all over his arms.
I wonder if he’s naked underneath the blanket, too.
I can feel my heart jumping in my rib cage. Jesus, it’s so damn loud. Can Zeke hear it too?
“It’s been such a long day, Zeke. Can we just go to sleep?” I ask.
But Zeke puts his hand on the back of my head and shuts me up with a kiss.
God, it feels even better than the one we had this afternoon—the wedding kiss. Now it’s just the two of us in the dark, just like it was when we were young and in love.
My heart can’t help but go back to that place, and soon I stop avoiding him, avoiding this kiss. I forget why I even try.
So I give in. I let myself drown in this kiss. I let myself forget all the ugly things that have happened between us, and focus on the now.
I’ve agreed to have a baby with Zeke, and we’ve even gotten married. I’m halfway there already.
There’s no going back now, so why not go all in?
Be his wife, even if it’s only for one year.
Ali
<
br /> My new boss is also the man who took my virginity.
Wait, no. That came out wrong, although it’s technically true.
He wasn’t my boss at the time. He was just a boy, and I was just a girl. We talked, we laughed, and we loved. Then things got too complicated and we parted ways.
Looking back, it should’ve been simple. We could’ve tried harder; we could’ve made good on our promises. And then maybe I would’ve avoided all the heartache and pain I’ve gone through over the past few years.
Could’ve.
Should’ve.
Would’ve.
But we were young.
I was just starting college. It was a time for fun and adventure. Life was about meeting new people. Having a serious boyfriend would’ve held me back from new experiences.
And I didn’t want to put Zeke in danger either. I knew my dad—his boss at the time—would’ve pummelled him into pulp had he known that Zeke had taken my V-card, when he was supposed to be guarding me.
Yes, that’s right. He used to work for my dad, and now I’m going to work for him.
It’s a big role reversal, for sure. But I’ve known Zeke for ten years now, and that’s not even the biggest change between us over the years.
But now is not the time to be thinking about old times. I need to finish my shower and get ready for work.
But I find myself stalling, and I’m blaming this dream that I had this morning.
The dream was just getting good when my alarm started blaring, shoving me into the real world. I woke up with throbbing at the juncture of my thighs.
Even now, as hot water hits my skin, I can’t stop thinking about it…
In the dream, I’m eighteen again. I’m living in my parents’ grand mansion, surrounded by luxury and opulence.
Zeke and I are sitting on a couch with our arms touching. The part of my skin that makes contact with him is burning up.
It feels strange… funny. I’ve ever been this close to a guy before. My heart is beating fast. I’m eager to learn more about these new sensations.
There’s no one else in the house except for us. Oh, there are the guards, of course, but they’re all outside, patrolling the premises.
Zeke should be outside as well, but he has never been one to follow the rules.
At twenty-one, he has already collected almost a sleeve of tattoos. And just before we put on the Godfather DVD, he offered to go to the liquor store and buy us some beer.
I said no to the alcohol, but I’m regretting it. Some liquid courage would’ve helped with my nerves, which are going wild right now.
On the screen, the credits are rolling.
What are we going to do next?
“Hey, Ali.” Zeke turns toward me, smiling with a mischievous glint in his brown eyes—they seem almost black in this darkness.
“Hey, Zeke.” I return his smile and turn to face him. I’m rewarded by a heavy, masculine hand on my waist.
And just like that, things start to change. He’s transitioned from being one of my dad’s employees, to something more.
“Do you really have to leave in four days?” Zeke asks. He shifts forward and leans his forehead against mine. “You’re going to be so far away from me.”
My heart, which has already been racing for a while, starts pounding.
He doesn’t usually talk like that to me. We don’t usually get this close with each other.
This is different. This feels strange. But this… I want this.
“The ticket is bought and paid for,” I say, my chest tight as I think about leaving him.
“Too bad,” he whispers. He leans closer and then, his lips land on mine.
Oh my god.
Zeke Harris has just kissed me.
I can't believe this is happening, but it feels too real for it to just be a dream.
His lips are hot and firm. They heat up my whole body, starting from my chest and spreading all the way to my scalp and the tips of my toes.
He moves closer, and the couch between us dips deeper, as if conspiring to pull us closer.
There's no need for some divine intervention, though. This is happening.
It has taken us three years, but we’re here now, finally.
With my lack of experience, I don’t know the details of what’s about to happen next. But I have an idea. The girls at school have been talking about it enough for me to get the gist.
And I’ve been playing with myself enough to know it’s going to feel good—and I bet it’s going to feel a lot better with Zeke than it does when I’m on my own.
Unlike me, Zeke seems to know exactly what to do.
His tongue tastes my lips and explores my mouth, while his hands touch my breasts and my butt. They run up my thighs until they reach the top.
My lips part and a strange sound escapes. A moan. Is that really me? It’s kind of sexy.
Slowly, Zeke takes off my shirt and my pink sweatpants, as well as my bra and panties. He’s shedding his black shirt and jeans, too. Our clothes lay on top of one another on the floor.
Soon enough, he’s on top of me, as well.
Without a word, he puts his hard cock at my opening as he hovers over me. The ghostly glow from the TV screen falls on one side of his face, making him appear more threatening than usual. But whatever he wants from me, I want it too.
Staring into my soul with his dark eyes, Zeke pushes inside. It hurts at first, but his soothing hand, stroking my hair, makes it bearable.
So many new sensations. And they’re all so wonderful, so intense, so overwhelming…
I cry out as my whole body shudders, releasing my pent-up arousal. My voice echoes in the bathroom, but the sound of the water drowns it out.
I take the shower head away from between my legs and place it back in the holder mounted on the wall.
I’m trying to save money, so I really shouldn’t be wasting water. And I’m rushing to get ready for work, so I really shouldn’t be wasting time either.
But after my sexy dream ended abruptly, can you blame a girl for indulging?
That night was magical, but we had so little time to spend together.
Regret fills my chest as I think about how different things would’ve been, had we made different choices back then. Because even after all these years, no man has ever made me feel the way Zeke did.
If I had dared to tell my parents, if Zeke had made good on his promises, if we had put more effort into it…
There are too many ifs.
Still, I can’t help but wonder… Would we have a little family by now? Maybe we’d already have a child together—or two.
We could’ve been perfect.
I can’t believe I’ll finally see Zeke again, seven years after he took my virginity.
I’m nervous and excited at the same time. And scared.
Ali
“Hi, I’m here to see Zeke Harris.” I put my hands on the cold stone surface of the tall counter. I give the receptionist a polite smile. If we’re going to start seeing each other every day, maybe it’s a good idea to be friendly.
“Do you have an appointment?” asks the pretty twenty-something blonde with a stern expression. Briefly, I wonder if she has decided that she doesn’t like me, or if she just has a bad case of the Resting Bitch Face.
“Yes, at nine,” I answer, just as curtly. I’ve come early, so there’s nobody else in the lobby of this office building.
“Can I have your name, please?” Her hands hover over the keyboard, frozen in the air as she looks at me expectantly.
“Alejandra Martin.” Already, I can feel a tired sigh coming from deep inside me.
“How do you spell that?”
Damn it. I knew she’d ask me to spell it out. I hate when that happens, because it happens too damn much.
Sometimes I wish there was a famous person with the same name as me, just so people would learn to spell it. Man, if they can spell Kardashian, they can spell my name.
“A-L-E-J-A-N-
D-R-A,” I say, knowing she probably won’t need me to do the same with my last name.
Her fingers start to dance, filling the big, quiet space with the tapping of her keyboard. She adjusts her glasses and says, “Okay, I found you. You’re early.”
“Yes.”
“Well, Mr. Harris is in a meeting right now,” she says, her eyes glued to the computer screen. “But you can go up to the eightieth floor and wait for Mr. Harris there. He’ll be with you right after he’s done with his meeting.”
“Okay, thanks.” I walk across the lobby toward the rows of elevators, my shoes making loud click-clacking noises against the marble floor tiles as I do.
Zeke must’ve spent a fortune on this building. Considering his background, he has done impossibly well.
Compared to him, my life has been going downhill. It’s hard to admit, but I think I’m one of those people who peaked in high school.
Sure, I’m not unattractive or impoverished, but I’ve been better—way better. I guess that kind of gives me a skewed perspective on life.
I enter an empty elevator and check my reflection in the mirror.
I look professional enough. I’m wearing a loose navy-blue blouse, a gray pencil skirt, and a black blazer. It’s a pretty basic outfit. Millions of American workers are probably wearing something similar right now.
But to me, this is a poor imitation of what I used to have.
In my parent’s mansion, I used to have a personal stylist who updated my clothes for me.
At the beginning of every season, I’d open my wardrobe and find all-new items that had been tailored to fit my measurements perfectly.
A new set of clothes was usually the first sign of a new season for me. I’d enter my walk-in wardrobe and go, “Oh, the heavy jackets are gone. They’re replaced by floral dresses and light sweaters. I guess it’s spring time now.”
Of course I could shop on my own as well. But my stylist would regularly go through all my purchases.
She’d come up with outfits for me, taking polaroid pictures and sticking them on my inspiration board.