I Married a Billionaire

by Melanie Marchande

  Okay, no, that wasn’t the ideal way to take my mind off of my dream. I forced myself to focus on the work that was on my screen, blocking out any thoughts or feelings that weren't directly related to this booklet design. It didn't have a firm deadline, so I'd been tinkering around with it for weeks. I wondered what would happen to it, after I "quit." As mind-numbing as my work could sometimes be, I still took a tiny bit of creative pride in what I did for the company. It felt strange to know that I'd be saying goodbye to all of that.

  "Maddy."

  I felt a hot flush spread across the back of my neck at the sound of his voice. Turning around slowly, I forced myself to meet his gaze. He was standing there casually, like it was the most natural thing in the world, his arm resting on the top of the cubicle wall.

  "Good morning, sir," I said. Everyone in neighborhood cubicles had slowly rotated their chairs around to stare at us, and anyone passing through the vicinity had stopped a little distance away, pretending to be interested in a yellowed newspaper cartoon pinned to someone's wall while they listened to our conversation.

  I knew this was exactly what Daniel wanted, but I still couldn't stop myself from blushing. "I'm glad to see you here so early," he said. "Do you have any plans for lunch today?"

  I swallowed hard and shook my head.

  "Excellent," he said. "I hope you'll join me in my office at eleven-thirty. We'll order in. Whatever you like. I want to discuss some new ideas I have about the project."

  "Of course," I said, a little louder than necessary. "I'll see you then."

  "Very good." He nodded, smiled, hesitated for a moment, and then walked away. Everyone's eyes followed him until he disappeared behind his office door, and then they all turned to me.

  I hunched over my keyboard, pretending I couldn't feel their eyes drilling holes in my back. I spent the next half hour nudging the same block of text back and forth, and when I finally looked up, everyone had returned to their rightful places. But I knew what they were thinking.

  Now, I had to spend my whole lunch break sitting across the desk from him. How was I going to avoid blushing and giggling the whole time? Or worse, just staring at him like a deer in the headlights? I hated being reduced to an airheaded schoolgirl by one stupid dream, but it felt so real.

  The next few hours flew by. Before long, I found myself walking down the thickly carpeted hallway that led to Daniel's office. His door was open a crack, and his assistant was standing by his desk with a notepad open.

  "Ah, Ms. Wainright," he said, gesturing for me to sit. "I was just about to give Alice my lunch order. I was thinking of takeout from Vivian's - how does that sound?"

  "Great, it sounds great," I replied, after I managed to find my voice. Vivian's was one of the most expensive steak houses in town. I'd never dreamed of setting foot in the place. But to Daniel, it was probably like going to a sub shop for lunch. No big deal. This lifestyle was going to take some adjusting-to.

  "Alice, I'll have a twelve-ounce Porterhouse with mashed potatoes and grilled asparagus. Medium rare. Ms. Wainright, what about you?"

  "Oh, I don't really…I don't really know what they have." Daniel and Alice were both staring at my expectantly, and I felt like I was being tested somehow.

  "All the usual," said Daniel, waving his hand vaguely. "They'll make you anything. What do you like, steak? Chicken? Seafood? I think I've had everything there at least once, I could recommend you something."

  "I'm not picky," I said, truthfully. "I was going to have mostly-smashed energy bar from the bottom of my purse, so pretty much anything would be a step up from that."

  Daniel laughed, but Alice shot me a haughty look. "Would you rather have something light, then?" said Daniel. "A salad, maybe? Their Caesar with grilled shrimp is really excellent; the dressing is a special in-house recipe."

  "Sure, that sounds fantastic." I cleared my throat as Alice hurried out of the room with her notepad. "Do you get lunch at Vivian's often?"

  "Just a few times a week." He was smiling at me, knowingly. "I promise you, my life isn't all that strange. You'll get used to it. Which brings me to my next point - I feel we ought to go out on our first official dinner date sooner rather than later. I'm sure the office gossip mill is going to start soon."

  "My cube-mate asked me yesterday why I was spending so much time in your office," I supplied, trying not to fidget in my seat. But I couldn't stop myself from staring at his lips, trying to remember if the recreation from my dream was accurate to real life. I could feel a prickling heat travel up the skin on my chest as my eyes travelled along the sleek, polished surface of his desk, remembering how it had "felt" under my body. Almost subconsciously, I had worn a knee-length skirt and blouse very similar to the outfit my brain had conjured up. I still couldn't really explain why. Did I think it was going to make him notice me? Did I want him to notice me?

  The last thing I needed was to harbor a one-sided crush on my fake husband.

  "Is it going to be somewhere fancy?" I blurted out, trying to disrupt my very dangerous thought patterns. He blinked at me. "I mean, the dinner date. I don't really think I have anything to wear."

  "Yes, I was about to ask…" he dug out his wallet and pulled out a crisp off-white business card, handing it to me across the desk. "If you go to this boutique, you should find the staff very accommodating. They have my credit card on file. I'll call ahead and let them know to expect you. Buy whatever you like. Don't hold yourself back; you'll certainly find occasion to wear all of it in the next year."

  I stared at the card. "Thank you."

  He steered the conversation to small talk for the next few minutes, covering everything from the unseasonably warm weather to a funny news article he'd seen that morning. I'd never known him to be this talkative, or this casual, and I found myself growing quieter and quieter. I was still trying to digest the strangeness of it all; trying to picture myself walking into the boutique. I felt like the mere act of shopping there required nicer clothes than I had in my closet.

  Alice returned with our food in record time. Daniel was right. The salad was delicious, but I could barely taste it. My eyes kept drifting to his mouth, watching the way it closed around each bite, the way his tongue flicked out to lick his lips clean -

  Okay, I had a serious problem on my hands. I just had to hope it would wear off once the memory of the dream faded. Because if this was permanent, the next year of my life was going to be an elaborate form of torture.

  I was relieved to escape from his office, hurrying back to my desk. I buried myself in meaningless busy work for the rest of the day. I survived the rest of the week that way, and to my surprise, I fielded exactly zero questions about the nature of my relationship with Daniel. I really expected someone to say something; a few times I swore someone was about to, but then they clammed up and retreated. Maybe Daniel intimidated them. He certainly did me. Being perfectly honest with myself, I was terrified of disappointing him in some way. He obviously thought I was more than capable of pretending to be his wife for legal purposes, but I had my doubts. What if I made some terrible blunder, or revealed something incriminating to the INS? What if I just did something horribly embarrassing - something that would force him to stand up for me as if I were really his wife?

  I went to the boutique on Saturday, slipping into the newest jeans I had and a pretty decent blouse that didn't have a single stain on it. Still, the moment the bell jingled above my head as I walked through the door, I was painfully aware of being out of my element. I ought to have worn high heels, or gotten my hair done, or something. One of the sales girls came over to me, and I felt like her smile was a little bit forced.

  "Can I help you?" she asked, looking me up and down.

  "I need a dress," I said. "I'm sure you can tell I'm out of my element. Daniel Thorne told me to come here, he said -"

  "Oh, of course." Her demeanor instantly thawed. "Right over here, Ms. Wainright. It's a pleasure to meet you. My name's Emma. I've pulled a few pieces for y
ou. Let me know what you think. Mr. Thorne wasn't sure of your size, but I'm sure we can find it if you like any of them."

  "To be perfectly honest, I'm not sure I know my size either. It's been so long since I've bought a dress." I looked up at what she'd chosen for me; there was something black and slinky and something else in a deep purple, and more behind those that I couldn't really see.

  "Let's take your measurements, then. Step into a fitting room." She was already unwinding a tailor's tape.

  Once she'd wrapped it around my waist, hips, and bust, she scribbled a few things on a notepad I hadn't even noticed she had. "All right," she said. "A few of these will probably fit you just fine, but we can work with the others as well. Why don't you try the black one on first?"

  I stepped out of my clothes and slipped it over my head, spinning around in the mirror as the folds of fabric settled on the curves and contours of my body. I had to admit I liked the way it clung to my chest, but I wasn't happy with the overall shape of it. I looked to Emma for guidance.

  She shook her head. "It's not quite right for you. I had a feeling it wouldn't be. Try the purple."

  Close, but it still didn't look right to me. Then again, I wasn't sure if my expectations of how I would look in a dress were very realistic. I was thinking of magazine photo shoots airbrushed all to hell. No matter what I wore, I was still going to have all the lumps and bumps of a real human woman.

  Emma was tugging at the hem. It fell at an odd place, just below my knee, which threw off the whole look of the dress.

  "We can take this in a little bit, if you end up liking it," she said. "But let's try something else. I think Mr. Thorne wants you to have something off the rack. He made it sound like time was a factor, and I've got a few clients ahead of you in line for alterations."

  I nodded, and she dug through her selections for a moment, finally pulling out something in the deepest shade of midnight blue I'd ever seen. Instantly, the color transported me back to a fond childhood memory of walking through the mall, hand-in-hand with my mom, before things went sour between us. I'd look up at the massive skylights that lined the main concourses, just after dusk, seeing the sky just as it turned this particular shade of blue. I couldn't explain why, but something about that color always made my young heart swell with the beauty of it.

  Emma was smiling. "Here," she said. "I can tell you're in love with it already. Try it on."

  It was light and silky, fitting over me like a second skin, but not clinging too tight. My breath caught in my throat as I looked at my reflection. Almost instinctively, I reached up and undid my ponytail, letting my hair fall loose around my shoulders. I tossed my head. Now I looked like someone who belonged on Daniel's arm.

  Emma's smile had broken into a grin, lighting her whole face up with the satisfaction of a job well done. I felt a scratch against my armpit, and I remembered for the first time that these dresses had price tags. But as I lifted my arm and tried to grab onto the tag with my other hand, Emma stepped forward and gently pulled my hand away.

  "I'm sorry, but I'm under very particular instructions not to let you look at the price."

  I stared at her. "Are you serious?"

  She smiled. "Come on. Let's find you some accessories."

  Emma showed me a necklace and a pair of earrings, elegant silver pieces with alternating light blue and white pearls and crystal pendants, far more delicate and beautiful than anything I'd ever worn. She put me in front of a mirror and fastened the necklace while I slipped the earrings in.

  It was perfect. The lighter blue of the jewelry was beautifully complemented by the midnight blue of the fabric, and when Emma pulled my hair into a quick bun on the top of my head, I hardly even recognized myself. A pair of matching shoes, and I looked ready for the red carpet.

  Walking out of the shop, I tried not to even think about how much money I'd just spent. Daniel wanted me to have these things. That was the important part. A few hundred - or, God forbid, a few thousand dollars were nothing to him in exchange for me having a nice outfit.

  My phone went off just as I walked through the door of my apartment. Sighing, I dropped my purchases on the couch and dug it out of my purse. Unknown Name, Unknown Number. I almost let it go to voicemail, but changed by mind at the last minute.

  "Hello?"

  "Hello, Maddy. How are you?"

  "Daniel." I stopped in the middle of my living room, my heart thudding at the sound of his voice. I'd really been looking forward to a whole weekend of being away from him, avoiding his knowing smiles and deep green eyes and all the things that reminded me of that damn dream. "I just got back from the boutique, actually."

  "Oh, did Emma treat you well?"

  "Yeah, once I dropped your name." I switched the phone to my other ear and picked up the bag, pulling the necklace and earrings out. "She set me up pretty well."

  "Glad to hear it. I'm sorry if she was cold to you at first. They've had issues with 'customers' who come in without the intention of buying anything, just putting on a little fashion show for themselves and making a mess in their wake."

  "And I looked like one of those people. Yeah, I get it."

  Daniel was silent for a moment, as if he wasn't quite sure if I was being snarky or not.

  "I wanted to ask you if you were free for dinner tonight," he said, finally.

  "Already?" I set the jewelry down. "I thought you meant, like…next week, or something."

  "I've been thinking about it since, and I feel it would be best to get things off the ground soon. If you're free, of course."

  It was on the tip of my tongue to say something bitingly sarcastic, but instead, I just said "of course."

  "I'll send a car to pick you up at seven o'clock."

  "Sure," I said, hanging up before he had a chance to say goodbye.

  I couldn't explain why I was so irritated. Something about Emma's demeanor, and his explanation for it, was more than I could stomach. I didn't want to spend the next year pretending to be something I wasn't, just to fit in. But I'd already signed the contract.

  I sat down heavily on the couch, picking up the sparkling necklace and toying with it gently. Could I get used to this lifestyle? Did I even want to?

  I busied myself around the apartment for the rest of the day, vacuuming and dusting and wiping down corners I hadn't touched since I moved in. My eyes kept drifting over to the bag from the boutique, and I couldn't stop myself from thinking about everything that it symbolized. Years of financial freedom. More money than I had ever dreamed of. A new lifestyle. A new life.

  When the car pulled up, I was waiting outside, clutching my new black leather purse and trying not to look awkward.

  "Forgive me, ma'am, but you look lovely," said the driver as I climbed in. I had to smile.

  "Thank you," I replied. "Let's hope Daniel agrees."

  The driver cleared his throat, and I could tell he wanted to say something.

  "What?" I prompted, finally.

  "Well, I shouldn't say anything, but…" He met my eyes in the rear view. "I've been suspecting there was something going on between you two."

  Been suspecting? How long had the driver even been aware of my existence? I felt a chill run up my spine, but I was afraid to ask the question.

  "Well, you've got solid instincts," I said. "Where are we going, by the way?"

  "The Inn at Grenarnia," he replied, in a tone of voice that suggested he'd never set foot in that restaurant himself. I felt like I wanted to scream. I knew the place - they'd been written up in the paper before, with words of high praise for their $250-a-plate tasting menus. How on earth was I supposed to behave naturally in a place like that?

  "Wow," I managed, after a silence. "Fancy."

  "Well, that's how Daniel is when he really likes someone. No expense spared. He must really want to impress you."

  Or intimidate me. "I guess so," I said.

  He'd pulled up to the curb in front of the restaurant. I took a deep breath, smoothed my dress o
ver my thighs, and stepped out onto the sidewalk.

  Chapter Four

  I had to admit, the restaurant was enchanting. And I hadn't even set foot inside the door yet. They had a large veranda where couples sat on swings and Adirondack chairs, talking, laughing and sipping wine. Strings of lights twinkled like fireflies all around the eaves. Off to the side, there was a lush garden, and as I stepped closer to get a better look, Daniel walked out from under the ivy-covered trellis.

  "Maddy," he said, warmly, coming towards me and taking my hand. He held it for a moment, and I had the strange thought that he was going to lift it to his lips. Instead, he simply squeezed it a little before letting go. "That's a stunning dress, by the way."

  "Hi," I said. "This, uh, this place is really nice."

  "It's cute, isn't it?"

  That wasn't exactly the word I would have chosen for a place that cost this much, but I just nodded and smiled.

  There was a table waiting for us inside, surrounded by glowing candles and plants that seemed to be growing out of the floor. On closer inspection, they proved to be thriving in planter boxes that were built in to be at the same level. In the center of the dining room, there was a massive tree trunk; the restaurant appeared to have been built around it.

  "You look surprised," Daniel said, smiling.

  "I wasn't really expecting it to be like this," I said. "I don't know what I was expecting."

  "I can't stand a stuffy restaurant," he said. "As far as I'm concerned, it's not 'nice' if you can't be comfortable while you're there."

  We had a reservation for the tasting menu - of course - which was actually somewhat of a relief. At least I didn't have to try and choose the entrée that would make me stand out the least as someone who didn't belong there.

  But as time went on, I was plagued less and less with the feeling of sticking out like a sore thumb. By the time the server cleared away our third set of plates, each with a tiny Angus rib eye fillet on a bed of roasted potatoes and red wine-marinated onions, I was talking and laughing like anything. I was just finishing up my second glass of wine, and I was beginning to feel the pleasant, heady buzz. Slowly but surely, I was becoming less aware of everyone in the room except for me and Daniel.