Billionaire Ever After

by Blair Babylon

  She recognized the color-coded schedule that Mrs. Keller was holding, the agenda for their wedding that Wulf’s sister Flicka had sent out the day before, detailing where Wulf and Rae were to be at every single moment during the religious ceremony and the reception in the evening. In the “Notes” section for the processional during the ceremony, Flicka had written, “Be sure you look RIGHT and acknowledge AUNT ER in the FIRST ROW. She won’t be at the reception.”

  Rae’s wedding rings weighed on her left hand, even though the main stone in her engagement ring was a modest-sized blue garnet surrounded by diamonds. Even though the stone seemed small, it was worth north of four million dollars. Evidently, blue garnets were kind of rare.

  The rings weighed on her.

  Mostly, the thought of all Wulf’s money weighed on her.

  Wulf had dealt with crazy numbers like that all his life, and far crazier numbers, too. All those zeroes had probably never weighed on him.

  But his life had been so, so different than hers. She had been raised on a dirt ranch near the Mexican Border and kept ignorant by a fundamentalist cult until she had insisted on going to college.

  Wulf had had a world-class education in a Swiss boarding school, taken a Ph.D. in London, and taught economics at the University of Chicago.

  Oh yeah, and Wulf was an honest-to-God prince, and a damned handsome prince, too, not that he had mentioned the prince thing for forever when they had met. He had golden blond hair, a light cast of bronze dusting his skin, and diamond-hard cheekbones and jawline. It seemed like all that royalty and wealth was ingrained in his very skin and body.

  She still wondered if he was hiding other things that she should know about. Other than the money. And the titles. And the castle.

  Yeah, Wulf owned a real castle, Schloss Marienburg, in Germany.

  And he had had terrible things happen to him as a child and no one to turn to.

  For all her family’s intolerance and bigotry and demands that she not think above her station, at least when she had been a child, she had known that they loved her.

  Wulf kept saying that she would get used to the money thing, but Rae was still defiantly carrying her purse that had cost her eleven bucks on sale. It was blue. She liked blue.

  It was the same dark sapphire blue as Wulf’s eyes, and he leaned down, barely smiling, and said, “I can hardly wait to show you Switzerland.”

  “But Switzerland is so far away,” Rae said, adjusting her purse on her shoulder and cupping her other arm over her stomach, as if that would keep the little embryo safely inside her womb.

  Oh, yeah, she was preggers. Kind of an accident. But very wanted.

  Very, very wanted.

  A little baby with crystal-blue eyes and Wulf’s golden hair, who would laugh out loud like Wulf so rarely did.

  Desperately wanted.

  The baby embryo had lodged too far down in her uterus when Rae had gotten knocked up, a condition called placenta previa, which meant that she had been on damn-damn-damn bedrest ever since she had started bleeding one night. As she was getting just the slightest bit tubby, the doctor had said that the placenta was lifting, which was good and why she was allowed to travel at all, but they still had to be very, very careful. The doctor had lectured them both about the risk to her own life, but Rae wouldn’t even talk about decisions.

  So desperately wanted.

  For the last few days, it had looked like their religious wedding, which had seemed doomed at every turn, might actually take place. First, Wulf’s aristocratic father had made his two attempts to sabotage their wedding, and then this placenta previa problem had kept Rae in bed and from traveling.

  This wedding might come off, maybe, if they could just get to frickin’ Switzerland.

  By Saturday.

  Which was two days away.

  And they had to get there or else Wulf’s sister Flicka would kill them. Seriously. Flicka had done so much work to pull this wedding together, so fast, and made it the social event of the season, that Flicka would be fully justified in wrapping her pretty little princess fingers around both their necks and crushing them if they bailed on her.

  Rae continued, “The doctor said that I shouldn’t fly anywhere that’s over three hours away.”

  Wulf nodded, sunlight sparkling on his gold-blond hair. “And so we won’t.”

  “But Switzerland is, like, five thousand miles from here. We can’t get there in three hours.” Rae was nattering. She hated it when she nattered. Wulf didn’t seem to mind, or at least he wasn’t perturbed, but nothing perturbed him. Not even nattering.

  God, she had to stop.

  He said, “We’ll rest for the night in New Jersey, and we’ll have a check-up there. The next day we’ll continue on to Geneva.”

  “New Jersey isn’t three hours. It’s more like five or six or something.” Not that she had ever flown to New Jersey. She was totally guessing.

  He glanced at her from the corners of his eyes. “Not if we fly fast enough.”

  “Just how fast are we going to fly?”

  “Fast today, faster tomorrow when we’re over the ocean.” His dark blue eyes were practically laughing, and he drew his lower lip between his teeth.

  Something was going on.

  “What am I missing?” she asked him.

  “Nothing,” he said. “Ah, here’s our plane now.”

  Rae turned and looked out of the bank of windows overlooking the runway.

  Outside, a slender plane rolled across the asphalt. Sunlight glinted on its silvery skin, shining. Its odd body reared up from the tail to the nose like it was squatting back on its haunches, and blunt, swept-back wings barely stuck out from the sides. Its needlelike nose bent downward, making it look for all the world like an enormous, robotic mosquito. “What on God’s green Earth is that thing?”

  His chin jutted up, practically giddy for Wulf, and his blond eyebrows twitched. “Did you ever wonder what happened to the Concordes?”

  She felt her eyes getting bigger, like they always did right before she said something stupid. “What’s a Concorde?”

  Wulf’s smile froze. “Concorde is a plane. This plane. It’s supersonic. It was practically the only commercial jet that flew faster than the speed of sound. It can fly twice the speed of sound while we’re over the ocean.”

  Oh, man. He had worked so hard to impress her. “It must be really fast.”

  His smile drooped like he had resigned himself to something sad. He reassured her, “We’ll be in New Jersey soon.”

  Rae tucked her hand under his arm. Under his suit jacket, his biceps jumped as she touched him, but he smoothed her fingers around his elbow with his other hand. “It looks really fast,” she said.

  “After it takes off, the nose straightens, so it looks like a dart.” His British accent smoothed away his R’s, daught. He had learned English with a British accent, but every now and then, his German and French-like Swiss accents sneaked through. “The rest of them are all in museums. This is the only operational one.”

  She said, “I’ll bet it looks really cool.”

  “You could watch from the cockpit if you wanted.”

  “I can’t believe that you got a plane that would go and break the sound barrier.” She glanced up at him, smiling. “Thank you.”

  His fingers firmed over hers, and the smile crept back into his dark blue eyes. “My absolute pleasure.”

  Checkmate

  Rae Stone-von Hannover

  It had indeed taken two days to reach Geneva, and they did fly only a few hours each day.

  When they had cleared U.S. airspace over the Atlantic Ocean, the plane had accelerated and shuddered through the sound barrier, and Rae hadn’t been able to suppress a small whoop and a giggle. Some of the security guys in back had laughed when they’d accelerated, too, so she wasn’t the only country rube on the private, supersonic jet.

  Even Mrs. Keller, Wulf’s long-time head of his household staff, had chuckled a little at the booms.<
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  Wulf was suitably gratified, and he smiled a smug little half-smile all the way to Switzerland.

  They arrived early in the morning at their hotel in Montreux. Rae walked through the front doors, ushered in by Wulf’s usual cadre of security men, a swarm of black suits clearing the way through the lobby. Her low heels clicked over the inlaid marble floor. An ebony staircase spiraled out of the floor toward the second story.

  Everything was always a bustle with Wulf, but she was becoming accustomed to it. Public areas were the least secure, especially those at the end of the diamond, as Wulf had explained it to her. For any trip, the beginning and the end might be known, and thus they were weak points. The path between them formed a diamond of possible routes, and thus less security was necessary in the diamond because their position was a probability, not a known.

  But they were at the tip now, a weak point, and thus the men around them bristled with vigilance.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she caught movement that was different than the rotating black swarm around her.

  Man, walking toward them. Tall. Khakis and white shirt. Blond.

  She swiveled to look and stepped closer to Wulf. His arm wrapped around her back as she moved, and he looked over her. His arms coiled around her back and her stomach, turning her closer to him.

  The men surrounding them caught their shift and tightened the circle.

  The blond man walked toward them, Dieter, and he grinned and said something in Alemannic, that Swiss dialect of German that all the security guys spoke with each other. Rae caught the words for guns and men, but that was all. He had his shirt sleeves rolled up, baring powerful forearms.

  She had hardly recognized him because he wasn’t wearing a black suit, cut loose under the arms and longer over the hips to accommodate his weapons, as Dieter had worn every day while he had been Wulf’s head of security.

  Wulf’s arm loosened around Rae’s waist as he said something back, his low voice rumbling over her head. She heard a cussword, spoken with laughter.

  The guys around them were already opening their formation and returning to their original positions. The circle enlarged to engulf Dieter as he approached.

  Rae’s shoulders unwound. She had expected Wulf’s sister Flicka to rush them in the lobby, demanding more specific answers to her texts about the decor choices for the wedding ceremony and reception that were to happen later that day at four o’clock.

  Wulf and Rae had married in a small civil ceremony months before, just days before they had discovered that she was already pregnant, but a man such as Wulf—related to all the royal and noble houses of Europe, friends with all the wealthiest families in society, and courted by all the major charities, especially the symphonies—must throw an elegant religious ceremony and a spectacular reception.

  When Rae hadn’t been able to deal with planning the wedding because she was still in college, Wulf’s younger sister Flicka had gleefully offered her services, explaining that any princess worth her salt could throw together an extravagant fairy-tale wedding at a moment’s notice. It was part of the job description, she explained. Part of princess training.

  And she had.

  And it was spectacular.

  Via video-conferencing, Rae had seen the mock-ups. The samples. The diagrams. The dioramas.

  But now, Flicka was nowhere to be seen, and Rae ducked Dieter as he advanced on Wulf.

  Dieter clapped Wulf on the shoulder as they walked, still grinning, and he switched to English. “Such a sloppy maneuver. Half of them didn’t even have their weapons at the ready. I would have docked all their pay, every one of them.”

  None of the guys turned to shoot Dieter a dirty look because he had trained them too well for that. They kept their eyes focused on their coverage area and objective, even while they grumbled and called Dieter filthy names in Alemannic.

  Rae laughed at them and moved away from Wulf’s arm.

  Even with such criticism, Dieter wasn’t fishing for his old job back. His private security business already had a full roster of clients and a waiting list for consultations and structure evaluations. This was straight-up needling, and it meant that everything was fine.

  If a second phalanx of Dieter’s private staff had descended on them at the airport or the car, that would have been troubling. Rae was becoming very sensitive to the level of security around her and what kinds of threats might cause it to change.

  Dieter asked, “Who the hell is your new chief that allows such slack?”

  “I haven’t selected anyone yet,” Wulf told him. “We have the same structure, otherwise.”

  “Except now the beast has no head,” Dieter said, aghast. “Durchlaucht, you can’t do this, too.”

  “We’re using project heads for now. It spreads the responsibility and time commitment.”

  Dieter looked down, and his voice dropped, not screwing around anymore. “You’re not to blame for my marriage breaking up. That was all our own fault, and it was a long time coming.”

  Wulf’s expression didn’t move. “This structure is currently working for us.”

  Rae slipped her hand into his. Wulf carried everything inside, and sometimes she still didn’t have a clue.

  Dieter said, “I don’t like it.”

  Wulf made a careless gesture with his other hand. “You have the reins for this operation. Tell me whom I should promote.”

  Rae almost snickered at Dieter’s storm-gray eyes widening in horror.

  He said, “These men are all my friends, some more so than others.”

  “I’m sure you won’t allow that to influence you.” Wulf’s lips barely curved upward in the sly hint of a smile that Rae usually saw right before the word Checkmate.

  A few more comments filtered through the revolving team as they bypassed the check-in desk and made the turn for the bank of elevators, most of which were cusswords and negatives muttered in sarcastic tones. Rae understood that most of the guys were saying something roughly like, I’m not your friend, asshole.

  Dieter muttered something else in Alemannic, and Wulf’s smile rose just a little more.

  They rode the elevator up to their suite, and the restfulness of the decor washed over Rae while she was just standing at the door. Pale blue walls were framed with thick, white molding, and wide, French doors opened onto a terrace that overlooked Lake Geneva, glassy and blue in the sunshine, and the austere beauty of the snowy rocks and harsh cliffs of the Alps.

  The security guys nudged her inside, so Rae resumed her country-hick staring from the middle of the room. The couches were gray, and the dining set of dark wood and white upholstered chairs looked like it might actually be comfortable. The art grouped on the walls were line drawings of jazz musicians, and Rae loved it already.

  Wulf took her elbow and guided her to the bedroom.

  Rae wasn’t going to argue. She knew the rules.

  Lie down as much as possible.

  Every single possible moment.

  And then lie down some more.

  When in doubt, don’t let gravity show the baby the way out.

  It wasn’t like she wanted to rebel against the rules. She didn’t want to hemorrhage and bleed to death in under an hour.

  So she followed him meekly into the bedroom.

  But not too meekly. Wulf liked taking charge a little too much. If she gave him an inch, he would take a couple yards of very soft rope and tie her up with it, layering it in intricate knots, and then his smile would turn cold and patient while he teased her for hours.

  It might have happened.

  More than once.

  But she followed him.

  Once they were inside, he closed the door behind them, and Rae caught that glitter in his dark blue eyes that meant he had been cooped up in the plane and out in public too long. The placenta previa problem had come with other restrictions that might have impeded some people’s sex lives, but it was almost as if Wulf’s creativity had been unleashed to compensate.

&nb
sp; She said, “I thought I was supposed to lie down.”

  He had her in his arms, forcing her against the wall before she could even breathe, and he whispered, “You will.”

  Her arms were somehow stretched over her head already, and Wulf pinned her wrists to the wall with his strong hand. Rae swore to God that he could hypnotize her with those blue, blue eyes of his because half the time, things happened to her before she was even aware that anything was going on.

  He dropped his head, and his mouth covered hers, his lips soft and demanding.

  His hand around her wrists loosened, and she slipped free. Rae almost struggled against him just for fun, but she shouldn’t, and she knew that.

  Some men might have played along, might have allowed a little bit of wiggling to push them back, but not Wulf. He knew every letter of her doctors’ instructions to not exert herself, to not strain, and he took every advantage of it.

  Since she couldn’t fight him, Wulf scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the bed.

  “We shouldn’t,” she whispered.

  “Why not?” He laid her on the bed and crawled over her, pulling his suit jacket off and letting it fall to the floor.

  “Our wedding is in just a few hours.” Her hands rose in the air in front of her, seeking his shoulders. Traitors.

  “Hours,” Wulf said. “We have hours. I’ll pace myself.” He unbuttoned a few of his shirt buttons near his throat and stripped everything off over his head, ruffling his blond hair so that it fell forward. His smooth skin looked like pale gold paint over the strong rounds of muscle banding his chest, shoulders, and arms. Rae trailed her fingers over the stacked stones of his abs.

  A real smile broke through his reserve, and his eyes sparkled. His low chuckle even made his hair sway a little over his eyebrows.

  Lord, Wulf was so cute when he was mussed like that. Her breath caught in her throat.

  “That’s not what I meant,” she protested, nevertheless.

  “Yet it’s the truth.” He grabbed a pillow from beside her, stripped off the case, and spun the cloth to make a soft cord.

  “Oh, no,” she said. “Wulf, you shouldn’t even be seeing me right now. We should have gone our separate ways last night. It’s—”