I Married a Billionaire

by Melanie Marchande

  Lindsey left me with pages and pages of notes. Daniel had already put Emma on the task of finding me a dress, and I'd picked a bakery whose cake was both beautiful and edible. Even with all of the preparations that were underway, the whole thing still didn't quite feel like real life. But I was sure I would adjust to it. Eventually.

  I put in my last day of work on Friday, and Daniel asked me over lunch if I wanted him to hire a moving service. As usual, he was ten steps ahead. In the flurry of wedding preparations, I forgot that I'd also be expected to move in with him immediately afterwards.

  "No, I'm fine," I said. "I don't really like strangers touching my stuff."

  "At least let me come over and help you pack." He sounded genuinely concerned.

  "All right, sure. Thanks." He wasn't a stranger, after all. He was my fiancé. A thought occurred to me. "Hey, are we like…going to go on a honeymoon, or something?"

  The corner of his mouth quirked up into a secretive smile. "Just leave that to me," he said.

  -

  Between shoving all of my worldly belongings into boxes and returning vendors' phone calls, the next few weeks went by in a blur. I finally heard back from Emma, sounding almost breathlessly excited, telling me she had the perfect dress. She refused to text me a photo, insisting that I see it in person first. So I came by as quickly as I could, in the car that still didn't feel quite like mine, feeling intensely awkward as I parked it in front of the boutique. It was hardly nice enough to be conspicuous, but it was so far from anything I'd ever driven that I couldn't get used to it.

  Emma looked like she was about to go nuclear from happiness.

  "Come on, come on!" She put her arm around my shoulders and herded me into the dressing rooms as soon as I stepped through the door. "I've got it hiding back here, I didn't want anyone else asking about it. And God forbid Daniel should drop in and see it."

  "I'm not superstitious," I said.

  "Oh, honey." She shook her head at me. "Everyone is superstitious when it comes to weddings. You might as well get on board."

  I rolled my eyes, but she was too elated to notice. "Look at it!"

  The dress was hanging up in front of me. It was sleek and elegant, without all the taffeta and usual trappings of a typical wedding dress. Yet, at the same time, I felt I would be recognizable as a bride when I put it on. It was a lovely cream color, with deep red accents, including a sash around the waist.

  "I figured something short would be best for a summer wedding," Emma said. "So? Do you like it?"

  "It's beautiful," I said, reaching out to feel the material. "I just…none of this feels real to me yet, you know?"

  "I know," she said. "Come on. I can't wait to see it on you."

  She helped me into it, having me step into a pair of complementing shoes after she zipped me up. I stared at myself.

  This was what I'd be married in.

  Emma gasped. She looked more emotional about this than I felt.

  "It's really nice," I said, lamely. "Thanks, Emma. I couldn't have done it without you."

  "Doesn't even need a single alteration," she murmured, walking around in me in circles and touching and tugging at various parts of the dress. "Even I didn't think it would be this perfect."

  "And you're so humble, too." I smoothed the dress over my hips one more time, as if it would somehow cement the idea that this was really happening.

  "Shut up. You love it." She turned towards the door. "Don't move, I'm going to find you some accessories."

  She came back with some lovely silver pieces that matched the red accents - were those real rubies? - and before long I was out the door, and on my way to the hairdresser's to settle on a style for the "big day." I hated that phrase, but with everyone around me using it at least three times per hour, it was inevitable that it would become a regular part of my vocabulary.

  I hadn't had a hot iron in my hair since prom, and I almost wanted to choke on the smell of all the hairspray. But at the end of it, with all my hair piled on my head and my tiara on top, I actually looked like a bride.

  As time went on, it was even starting to feel real.

  The weekend before the wedding, Daniel came over to help me pack, as he'd insisted. Mostly everything was in boxes already, and I was going to send over everything I didn't absolutely need for the next few days. Together we spent the better part of the morning loading up a U-Haul, and every time he hefted a box I felt bad for not just letting him hire a moving service. But he didn't even show a hint of complaint or frustration with the process, even when I did.

  I ordered pizza for lunch. I was becoming a lot less self-conscious about my choice of eating establishments, which was nice. He seemed to enjoy it as much as I did, and while we sat holding our slices on my empty living room floor, I figured it was as good a time as any to bring up my faltering finances. It was more awkward than I had expected - then again, with me, everything usually was.

  I talked circles around it for ages, until he finally prodded me to just spit out what was on my mind.

  "I have a few bills…" I started, and he raised his hand to tell me I'd said enough.

  "Just give everything to me," he said. "I'll see that it's taken care of."

  "Some of them aren't…small," I said. "And when I called to cancel my utilities, they threatened collections if I didn't take care of everything within 30 days."

  "Don't worry," he said. "It's going to be all right."

  And suddenly, I knew that it was.

  Until that moment I hadn't realized how much I'd worried about this - even though it was ridiculous to do so, I'd fretted over how he might respond, how he'd feel about the fact that I was being so needy and demanding before we were even technically married. Not to mention how many sleepless nights I'd spent before he came along, wondering how the hell I'd ever manage to pay everything off by myself. I could actually feel the muscles in my shoulders relax slightly, after being held tense for God knows how long.

  "Thank you," I said, perhaps a little too fervently, judging by the surprised look on his face.

  "Maddy," he said. "This was part of our arrangement. I'd take care of you financially during this time. It's the least I can do, you don't have to thank me."

  "It's just…I've been so worried for so long, wondering how I was going to ever get out of debt. And now it's gone. I don't have to worry anymore."

  "That's right," he said, smiling. "No more worrying."

  I still have no idea why I thought it was a good idea to lean over and kiss him. Perhaps it was meant to be a friendly peck, or maybe in the back of my mind I thought someone might be peering in through the window.

  Or maybe, just maybe, I couldn't help myself.

  For a moment, he was still; surprised, I supposed, at my forwardness. But the hesitation only lasted for split second before I felt his hand slide around the back of my head, pulling me in aggressively, and it seemed the only appropriate response was to let my lips part against his.

  He took the invitation immediately, his tongue slipping into my mouth and exploring the territory, and I felt a shiver of pure bliss run down my spine. Within moments, I was completely lost in him - forgetting where I was, and why I was here. I was throbbing. I needed him more than I had ever needed anything.

  I leaned into him, deepening the kiss even further. When we broke apart to catch our breath, I expected him to say something - to object, even if it was just half-hearted - but his eyes were dark and fierce and single-minded. There was nothing in his face but pure lust.

  I melted. He coaxed me down onto the carpet with the movement of his body, stretching over mine, until he was lying on top of me. I could feel him rock-hard and straining in his jeans. Oh, God. This was really going to happen.

  My head was buzzing with arousal and disbelief, and to this day I still don't know what possessed me to look him directly in the eye and say, in a breathy voice:

  "Thank you."

  The look on his face made my heart sink.

 
He pulled away, his expression twisted with something like disgust. At me? At himself? I didn't know. I wasn't sure I wanted to. I sat up quickly.

  "What's wrong?" I felt frantic. I was so close to having what I wanted, and he'd ripped it away from me. Why? What had I done?

  He shook his head, looking at the floor. "This isn't a good idea," he said, flatly.

  Well, no shit it wasn't. I sat up quickly. "You didn't seem to care a few minutes ago," I said, starting to feel desperate.

  "I lost my head for a second," he said. "I'm sorry. I really am. But we can't do this."

  I sat, miserable and motionless, on the floor as he gathered his things. He'd been planning to drive the first load over to his apartment after lunch anyway, but something told me he wouldn't be back again today.

  After he shut the door behind him, my massaging shower head got the workout of a lifetime.

  Once my head was clearer, I became determined that I wasn't going to let that happen again. If he was going to have an attack of conscience just because I said something silly, well, that was his problem. Did he really think I was the kind of person to have sex with someone purely out of gratitude? Had he not been able to tell how aroused I was? How badly I wanted him? He was an idiot to walk away from all that, no matter how complicated it might make our arrangement.

  The next morning, bright and early, my phone started to ring. I let him call a few times before I picked up.

  "I was going to come over in half an hour with the truck," he said, without so much as a greeting. "If that's convenient for you."

  "Sure," I said, coolly.

  The pizza box was still on the floor when I walked out into the living room. I crushed it angrily and shoved it into the garbage.

  When I opened the door, he actually looked a little bit sheepish.

  "About last night," he started, and I cut him off with a raised hand.

  "Don't worry about it," I said. "I was out of line. No explanation necessary."

  He seemed to accept this, but as we packed up the rest of my worldly belongings, I could feel him watching me carefully.

  After he dropped me back off in my mostly-empty apartment, I walked through the suddenly unfamiliar rooms in silence for a while before collapsing on my bed. It was one of the few things that didn't need to come with me - of course.

  But if he thought I was actually going to sleep in his bed with him after yesterday, he was crazy. I wasn’t sure if that had ever been in the cards. I'd thought about it, of course - several times, and in exquisite detail - but unless I wanted it to end like yesterday had, it was obviously best if we never let ourselves get that close.

  When I answered the door, he didn't even look up. He walked in silently, picked up a box, and walked back out again.

  Okay. So that's how it was going to be.

  On the last trip, I followed him out to the U-Haul and climbed into the passenger seat. He glanced at me briefly, but didn't say a word. I figured I might as well start unpacking and settling in.

  It was a bit of a shock to see his apartment with my boxes scattered all over it. It was no longer exactly a candidate for an interior decorating magazine. He'd left most of the stuff on the main floor, but I noticed some of the boxes were up in the loft area.

  Might as well rip that Band-Aid off right now.

  "Why is my stuff up there?" I pointed.

  He looked at me like I'd sprouted a second head.

  "You don't expect me to sleep in your bedroom, do you?" I clarified.

  He blinked. "You did read the contract, didn't you?"

  Had that really been in there? Oh, man. I really should have hired a lawyer.

  "You've seen the bed," he said, dryly, beginning his trek up the staircase. "It's a king size. We'll hardly even have to see each other."

  I briefly considering picking up the vase of bamboo from the entry table and throwing it at his head.

  I started digging into the boxes on the main floor. I'd expected my stuff to look dowdy and out of place, but now that I was actually faced with the prospect of unpacking it, I had a crazy urge to throw it all in the garbage and start over. What had I been thinking with some of this shit? Mugs full of pens? A ceramic dog from my trip to England when I was eleven? At the very least, I should put it all into storage. It had no business being here.

  I rifled through all the boxes, looking in vain for something that I wouldn't be embarrassed to bring out. Paperclips? Three boxes of paperclips? Why did I even have these? And two brand new six-packs of sticky notes. What the hell did I think I was, a one-person office supply store?

  When Daniel came back downstairs, I was sitting cross-legged on the middle of the floor, surrounded by crumpled-up newspaper. I had ink stains all over my hands, and I was examining an unopened package of multi-colored permanent markers.

  He sat down next to me, and, miracle of miracles, actually spoke.

  "You've got yourself a nice collection of office supplies there," he said.

  I nodded.

  He didn't speak for a little while longer, but I was acutely aware of the soft, even sound of his breathing. He was so close, just inches away.

  "I'm sorry," he said. "About what happened yesterday."

  "Me too," I lied.

  He picked up a pen and uncapped it, examining the tip like it was the most interesting thing he'd ever seen.

  "I didn't mean for things to get out of hand," he said. "It's not a very good start for us, is it?"

  "Our relationship hasn't even really started yet," I said. "Officially."

  "I know. I'm sorry I left. I just figured it was best if I…" he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. "Maybe it's better not to talk about it," he said, finally. "Just know that I'm sorry, and I won't let it happen again."

  "Sure," I said. "To change the subject, how do you feel about throwing all of my stuff like a giant bonfire?"

  "Seems like a waste of effort," he replied, smiling. "Should've done it before we went to all the trouble of bringing it over here."

  "Before you went to all the trouble, you mean."

  "I was happy to help," he said. "I mean it."

  "Okay."

  He looked over all of the mess one more time. "You know, if you want an office space, we can convert one of the guest rooms."

  "What would I do there?"

  "I don't know. Whatever you want."

  "Maybe not an office so much as a…studio," I said. "Some place where I can work on my art."

  "Of course," said Daniel. "Anything you want."

  I had to smile at him. I wasn't quite finished being irritated about the whole after-pizza incident, but he was being awfully nice. Of course, it was in his best interests to keep me happy. I had to remember that.

  Don't let things get too personal.

  Well, that was going absolutely stellar so far.

  I sighed, re-packing all my office supplies. "So these can go into the spare bedroom, I guess. I don't know about the rest of this crap."

  "Well, you don't have to decide right now," said Daniel, charitably. "When we get back from the honeymoon you'll have as much time as you need to unpack."

  It must have bothered him, all of these ugly, disorganized boxes invading his impeccable space, but he didn't say a word about it. I had to give him credit for that. He wasn't trying to be difficult. It was just a difficult situation. And maybe I'd made it harder than it needed to be, by coming on to him so strongly the day before. Maybe I did feel just a tiny bit remorseful.

  Still, though. There was no reason for him to be such a baby about it.

  "Yeah, I think maybe I'd better focus on the clothes for now," I said. "I assume that's what's upstairs?"

  "Mostly," he said. "Come on, let's take a look."

  We spent the next few hours organizing my clothes. He even helped me decide what to get rid of and what to keep, promising me I could rush-order some new stuff online when we were done, so it would get here in time for the honeymoon. He didn't even raise an eyebrow at ho
w many frayed and hole-ridden clothes I still had, stuff I'd bought before college, the sorts of things that no billionaire's wife should ever be seen wearing.

  After that, I got to shopping. He sat me down on the sofa with his laptop, and handed me his credit card. It looked normal - for some reason, I'd been expecting something heavy and jet-black, like the legendary no-limit card that was said to be accessible only to the very wealthy and influential. But this was just fine. He was just a normal guy, after all.

  "Have fun," he said, winking at me. "There's no credit limit."

  Or…maybe not.

  Chapter Ten

  The morning of the wedding dawned warm and clear, a pink sunrise bleeding across the sky. I woke up too early and couldn't get back to sleep. Of course.

  The only things I had left in my apartment were a few clothes and other necessities, most of which I'd already packed for the mystery honeymoon. I wished he'd just tell me where we were going. All of this secrecy made it almost seem…romantic. Like we were a real couple. Clearly, we didn't need any help getting ourselves confused on that front.

  I'd spent the whole day before cleaning every inch of my apartment, in accordance with the three-page-long list of demands my landlord had sent over. Apparently, I wasn't going to get my three hundred dollar security deposit back if I didn't give the place the white glove treatment. Of course I didn't care about the money anymore, but I needed something to do. Anything to take my mind off of the future.

  So there was nothing to do on my wedding day except sit and think.

  My stomach was in knots. I made myself a cup of mint tea and sat by the window, watching the empty sidewalks slowly fill up with people. I had an appointment at the hair salon in a few hours, and I was going to meet Lindsey there. She was going to stand beside Daniel as his "best man." I had no one. Not even my father, to walk me down the aisle.

  But that was fine. I'd walk down the aisle by my own damn self. I had two million dollars waiting for me at the end of it.