by Tee, Marian
The billionaire had just taken his shirt off when someone knocked on his bedroom door. "Come in." Exhaustion made his voice irritable, and he wondered impatiently who in God's name would be idiotic enough to bother him at this time.
"Hello."
The voice was soft and feminine, and Logan instantly spun around.
Who the fuck—-
"I, um, heard your car coming up the driveway."
Petite, raven-haired, and big-breasted, with the kind of face that would have casino security ask for ID even when she was in her thirties. She was exactly like her pictures, except for those eyes. They were too vividly bright, like she was brimming with life, her cup runneth full.
A feat in itself, Logan thought, considering what he knew of her past.
The silence inside his bedroom seemed to pulsate with tension, and that the billionaire also happened to be half-naked wasn't helping. It was extremely hard not to stare, and the more she saw, the harder it was to think straight. He was beautiful in a way that was both potently virile and sinfully sensual, with hair and eyes the shade of midnight, and sleek hard muscles that sinuously flexed under a layer of bronze.
Temptation incarnate, in other words, a man who was born to seduce and enslave women into surrendering to their most immoral desires...and she herself was proof of that, Tilly realized in jittery mortification.
Just looking at him made her ache all over, and her libido had never gotten out of control like this before. Her sex life might be a big fat zero and her V-card gathering dust for over a decade, but it didn't mean she was completely clueless. She had started touching herself since she was nineteen, and it had always been enough for her. Or at least it had been enough...until now.
He seemed to find her tolerable at least, Tilly tried to comfort herself by thinking. The billionaire had been looking his fill of her from the start and—-
"You must be Tilly. "
The unexpectedness of his speech almost had her jumping, but she managed to keep herself still, daunted as she was by the stiffness of his tone and the taut outline of his tall, powerful figure. Intimidating as all of this was, none of it was able to make her immune to the inherent allure of the billionaire's darkly musical voice.
This was probably how Prince Charming's wicked twin would have sounded like, Tilly couldn't help thinking, with every syllable uttered rolling down into a deep, rugged symphony. Just one word from Logan Hardwall, and any princess would be putty in his hands, beguiled by the promise of cruel pleasure.
This man could hurt a woman so, so good. Really, really good, to the point that Tilly had half a mind to beg him for the same treatment. Oh, please, hurt me so, fuck me really hard—-
WHOA!
Tilly gave herself a hard mental shake. Dirty thoughts had rarely ever crossed her mind, and she could only think of Logan's bare abs to blame. Just seeing all those inches of hard, golden expanse of skin...oh dear.
She was beginning to understand why a woman could take one look at a man and just have her heart go ooh la la.
Because shirtless Logan Hardwall?
OOH. LA. LAAAAAAA.
And then she noticed the billionaire staring at her pointedly, eyebrow arched in seeming askance. Are you just going to stand there and stare?
Shit.
"Sorry," she hastily apologized even as she valiantly staved off a telltale blush. "And yes I'm, um, Tilly, sir—-"
"Logan." The billionaire's tone was curt. "In private, you should call me Logan."
Oh.
Of course.
Logan.
In private.
Because, with the exclusion of a handful of people, the rest of the world remained unaware that she, Mathilda Wakefield, a nobody, was already married to Logan Hardwall, last billionaire bachelor standing of San Antonio's Finest Eligibles.
Somebody pinch her please, just to make sure she wasn't dreaming?
The first time Heart's Match had revealed her groom's name, Tilly hadn't wasted time looking him up on Google, and the results had been...incredible, to say the least. So much so she had even emailed customer support, asking if there could have been some kind of mix-up.
In less than an hour, she had her reply, and it was straight from the horse's mouth (or, in this case, the horse's owner, which was Heart's Match CEO Charlotte Carmichael).
No, you're not mistaken. It's indeed Logan Hardwall, the billionaire, and not Logan H. Walter, the insurance agent (not that there's anything wrong with that), who's your husband.
Suffice to say, finding out that her husband was one of the world's most sought-after bachelors had her walking in a daze for days, and it was only when Billie had been admitted to the hospital, with the little girl's name moved to the top of the recipient list, and all their medical expenses paid off by the billionaire - it was only then that it had really hit Tilly.
Logan Hardwall was for real.
And because she literally owed him for saving her sister's life, Tilly had sworn to herself then and there that she would be whatever he wanted to be.
So do what you came here to do, Wakefield.
She gave him a tentative smile. "Logan then."
Something flickered in the billionaire's eyes at the sound of his name on her lips, but Tilly completely missed this, embroiled at that moment in an inner struggle. That she was being so uncharacteristically timid was beginning to grate on her, but a part of Tilly also couldn't help thinking that was exactly how things should be.
Logan Hardwall might be her husband, but he was also the man that Billie's future depended on. If being with him meant a lifetime of walking on eggshells, and that was what he wanted, so be it.
But what if it wasn't?
Tilly took a deep breath.
Only one way to find out, wasn't there?
Lifting her gaze back to his, she found the billionaire's devastatingly handsome face inscrutable, and it was enough to have her courage wilt a little.
Think of Billie. You're doing this for Billie. All for Billie.
So she summoned another smile, saying, "I thought you might be hungry, so I heated some food for you downstairs." Tilly paused, thinking he'd say something, but when he didn't, she felt obliged to add, "I also thought it was best to get this, um, started as early as possible."
This, Logan supposed, being the charade they had put on. As far as everyone knew, Tilly was the live-in nanny that Devon's wife had personally recommended, and from this arrangement, a carefully planned whirlwind romance would be born, with a wedding to follow after shortly. An admittedly elaborate and complex scheme, but completely necessary, since even the smallest hint of Tilly being a mail-order bride could jeopardize his guardianship over Liam.
"You're right," Logan said finally. "I abhor any waste of time, so it's a good idea to get the ball rolling as soon as possible."
The very sensible words brought her a measure of relief, and Tilly allowed herself to relax a little. He had been rather quiet for so long she had started wondering if she had angered him for some reason, and he would turn out to be some unreasonable, short-tempered jerk.
Smile just a little wider and more natural now, she asked, "Shall I wait for you downstairs?"
The billionaire nodded. "I'll be down in five."
"Okay." As Tilly turned to walk away, she almost had a feeling that he was staring a little too intensely at the slight, involuntary sway of her hips. But since that would mean he found a girl like her a huge turn-on...
Yeah right. Get real, Tilly mentally chastised herself. Logan finding her tolerable was enough to begin with, and wishing for anything else beyond that was just her being greedy..
The tension only eased from Logan's tightly coiled form when the door finally closed behind his nanny-slash-secret-bride, and he slowly let himself breathe normally again, now that there was no longer any reason to keep himself in check.
What the fuck was he going to do now?.
The whole time she had been standing there, big brown eyes unconsciously
lapping him up like he was her personal ice cream, it had taken the billionaire everything not to do the same thing.
And the only reason he hadn't was because he knew he wasn't the fucking type to stop at lapping.
No fucking way.
He would lick and lap her up, then he would devour her. Completely. Thoroughly. Until every inch of her silky, supple flesh bore his bite mark.
His thoughts remained disturbingly on edge as he yanked a clean shirt out of his drawers, and he could only curse under his breath when he saw the rigid evidence of his arousal as he swapped his business trousers for a pair of lounge pants.
This was all Charlotte's fault, dammit.
He had fucking told her exactly what he wanted, and that was someone boring and biddable. Someone without any personality and whose smile wouldn't make him think of sunshine and sex all in the same breath.
Boring and biddable, goddammit.
That was what he had asked for.
So why the fuck had Charlotte sent him someone bodacious and beddable instead?.
Chapter Three
Tilly jumped off the bar stool as soon as the billionaire strode inside the kitchen, which was this massive, industrial-looking beauty with all the necessary bells and whistles. It was twice as large as her entire apartment actually, but as soon as Logan Hardwall walked in, his presence immediately made the kitchen feel cramped and claustrophobic.
Or maybe it was just her being horny?
Tilly quickly summoned a smile as he slid into the stool next to her. "Hello again. I hope you like tomato soup."
Logan saw that there was only a single placemat on the counter. "You're not having any?"
"I'll just have tea if that's okay?"
"Of course." He took a sip and was pleasantly surprised. "This is good," he said gruffly.
Tilly beamed. "If you're wondering what makes this soup different," she said in a conspiratorial whisper, "the secret ingredient is cheese."
"Illuminating."
She choked back a giggle at his dry response, but she was secretly relieved. The man had a sense of humor. For someone like her who lived by the 'laughter is the best medicine' mantra, that was a very, very good thing.
When he finished the entire thing, she said eagerly, "There's more if you want?"
"If it's not too trouble..."
"Of course." Tilly made short work of heating the rest of the soup she had set aside, her movements in the kitchen depicting assurance and grace despite the rather unnerving sensation of having the billionaire's gaze following her every movement.
Because there couldn't be any mistake this time.
He was staring at her, and she just didn't know what it meant, considering what she knew of him.
After signing the mail-order wedding contract Heart's Match had brokered, she had subsequently received two letters in her mailbox. The first had been from Charlotte, the agency's CEO, and apparently Logan's childhood friend as well.
I'm breaking company rules by writing this, but since it's my friend's happiness at stake, and I truly hope your marriage would work...
Logan has a habit of isolating himself from people by acting - okay, by being - cold and aloof. From what I can tell, the guys and I, and the women they've married, are the only ones he's lowered his guard with.
He thinks of marriage as a business, and all his life he's only let himself date a certain type of woman. Usually, they're doctors, lawyers, accountants - "smart" women, extremely polished, and socially savvy. He thinks his future wife must be an asset to his business.
I have no idea what's going to happen when you two finally meet for the first time, but just remember...Logan has had a lifetime to living like some kind of cold-blooded machine, and every decision he makes is based on how much money it would bring him.
It may not seem obvious now, but who you are as a person is exactly the kind of wife Logan needs.
The second letter had been an even bigger surprise, since it was from Mrs. Devon Montgomery herself.
Thank you so much for warning me about what Caryn intended to do. It was something you didn't have to do in the first place, and you even stood to lose your job by doing it. I know it's not much, now that you are about to marry Logan, but I'd like to let you know my husband and I are truly grateful for what you've done. So if there is anything you need, please don't hesitate to reach out to either of us.
And as for Logan...I've always found him to be courteous and kind, but I think this also has to do with the fact that I'm Devon's wife. There are times though, when I think he has the saddest eyes, so perhaps...you're the one to make him smile?
My own marriage had a very rocky start, and there was a time I even had to leave Devon, thinking there would be no hope for us. But we've obviously worked things out, and I do hope and pray it will be the same for you. I very much trust Charlotte's instincts with these things; if she believes you are the one for Logan, then I believe in this, too.
Your new friend for life,
Harry
P.S. Logan's heart may seem like it's made of the toughest, coldest ice, but even the smallest fire can make it melt. You just need to keep the fire burning long enough for the ice to thaw.
Remembering that last line almost made Tilly smile. It wouldn't have surprised her if Harry had become a lot more sophisticated after marrying a billionaire, but with her adorably cheesy postscript claiming otherwise, Tilly could allow herself to believe that maybe what Harry had said was true.
She had found herself a new friend for life, and since said friend told her to trust Charlotte, who had in turn basically advised Tilly to be herself...
"Here you go." Tilly served Logan his second bowl with a flourish, the way she normally did back at home. Her over-the-top antics were usually enough to send Billie into hysterics, but she obviously had her work cut out when the same gesture only earned her a politely-worded response of thanks from the billionaire.
Logan could feel her eyes on him again as he took a sip of her soup, and fuck if he knew what to do about it. Women staring at him in greedy, calculated fashion, he was used to, and so were women who looked at him as nothing but a sexual conquest to boast to their equally shallow-minded friends.
Tilly Wakefield, on the other hand...
The way she looked at him was different, Logan thought broodingly. And he wasn't sure at all if that was a good thing. In fact, he had this rather sudden urge to leave the room, to get the hell out before it was too late—-
"Do you know what convinced me you were the one?"
Shit.
He should've listened to his instincts, dammit.
Now, it was too late, and bolting out would make it seem he was this asshole who hadn't any time to talk about the stuff that women tended to obsessively overanalyze.
"You're supposed to say yes," Tilly prompted.
"Was I?"
Tilly couldn't keep her lips from twitching at the billionaire's utterly bland tone. "You really have the most amazingly dry humor. Any chance you're British?"
"Not at the moment, but a new citizenship can be easily arranged, if that's what it takes."
"If that's what it takes?" she echoed blankly.
"To earn a free pass from having to listen to what you have to say."
She tried to scowl but found it impossible and could only swallow back a laugh. "It's that, by the way."
Logan frowned. "Excuse me?"
"You didn't have to let me know you're not in the mood to hear me talk, but you told me anyway. You're unfailingly honest, and you were exactly like that, too, in your letter. You totally didn't care about how much of an ass—-"
The billionaire raised a brow.
"I mean, how astute a man you would come across as, realizing that someone in my circumstances would be suitable for your needs."
Logan's lips twitched. "Nice save, Ms. Wakefield."
"Desperate straits, desperate measures, Mr. Hardwall," she answered winsomely.
His cock twitched at
the subtle note of submission in the way she said her name, and Logan bit back a curse. What the hell was wrong with his body?
Tilly cleared her throat. "Anyway, I was thinking, since we've already established the preliminaries—-"
"Which is my honesty," Logan slotted in, "and your desperation—-"
Tilly let out a strangled gasp of laughter, but the billionaire only raised a brow, as if asking what she had to feel insulted about when he had simply spoken the truth.
Oh, the gall!
"I'm still waiting, Ms. Wakefield. Or have you brought the point up for no reason—-"
She rolled her eyes. "I'm not like that."
"Then your point is—-"
"I want you to kiss me." And now it was her lips that twitched, with the way the billionaire's jaw completely dropped.
"Where the fuck did that come from?"
Tilly couldn't help wincing. "Language please."
He shot her a look of incredulity. "Are you a kid?"
"We both know I'm not," she said patiently, "but your nephew is, and so is my sister."
"They're not—-" Tilly's stubborn look made the billionaire change his mind about continuing his argument. He had not gotten to where he was by beating his head against the wall, and he would not start now.
"Thank you," Tilly said graciously.
Logan didn't answer, a part of him slightly chafing at the fact that he had given in so easily.
"And to answer your question, I just want to know, for your convenience of course," she clarified quickly, "if we're sexually compatible. Because if we're not, then you're free to, you know, and you won't have any problems with me. I know I can trust you to keep your word about being discreet and—-"
"Tilly."
His voice was soft and polite, a blade that quietly cut through her words, and Tilly fell silent.
Because even without ever being in a relationship, Tilly was still a woman, and she knew instinctively that saying her name was the billionaire's way of courteously asking her to shut up.
Oh dear.
As Tilly worried about having possibly displeased the billionaire for having a magpie for a wife, the billionaire's thoughts were actually running in the opposite direction, with her words echoing inside his mind.