Marry Your Billionaire: A Modern Cinderella

by C. J. Anaya

  “I hope this doesn’t become a thing,” Lisa said in a groggy voice. “I’m a huge fan of twelve hours of sleep…in a row.”

  “I’m sorry, Lisa, but I need you to see if you can trace a phone call for me.”

  She recounted the threatening phone message and the suspicious events of the day, including her brief time spent in a locked supply closet.

  “I’m all over it, Midge. But, I think it would be a good idea to let your father or Brody in on your predicament, especially since blood has already been drawn. You’re clearly not safe there.”

  “I’ll think about it. I have a hunch as to who might be behind this, but without anything solid to go on, I doubt either one of them will believe me. More than likely, they’ll assume this is another prank or pathetic attempt at getting legally eliminated from the show.”

  “Another attempt? Just exactly how many times have you tried to convince Brody to kick you off the show? And how?”

  “Do you remember our prank wars from a few summers back?”

  A happy chuckle flitted across the line. “Oh, you are so naughty. Don’t tell me you stole all of his clothing, including his unmentionables, and sold them on eBay. Actually, considering his rising star status that might be a very lucrative prank to pull.”

  “I didn’t really have the time or the resources to start boxing and shipping clothes off to destinations unknown. I went for the old food coloring in the toiletries ploy.”

  “Effective. I bet that held off shooting long enough to annoy your father. I take it Brody wasn’t annoyed enough to let you go, considering we’re having this discussion several hundred miles apart.”

  “Nope. I’m still here for reasons I don’t fully understand, but maybe if we get some solid proof that I’ve got some crazy stalker making threats on my life, I can convince both Brody and my father to target some other contestant for Brody’s happily ever after and get the heck outta dodge, and we can get rid of any possible threat to Brody’s safety in the process.” The thought of Brody with any woman other than herself made her blood boil. Like she had any claim on him to begin with. “Have you found some dirt on Felicia yet?”

  “She’s covered her tracks well, but I’m starting to see some inconsistencies in her finances. She’s in debt up the wazoo, forking over money faster than I can fork in a jumbo sized Cinnabon, and you know how talented I am at inhaling one of those. She received some major deposits within the last five years that were inconsistent with her current employment—since she’s never had a job—and delivered sporadically.”

  “Keep working on it. Something tells me her dirty little secrets might shed some light on my current predicament.”

  “Will do, but please be careful. I’m interested in your happily ever after, not some depressing funeral procession where I’m asked to give your eulogy while I try to assuage my overwhelming guilt by admitting to everyone assembled that I knew you were in danger from the get-go and did nothing to notify the authorities.”

  “What authorities? I’m on an island.”

  “With some stalking psycho. Nice set-up for a horror flick.”

  “Except this is supposed to be a romantic reality TV series.”

  “That’s what makes it all so creepy,” she whispered.

  Midge chuckled. “Okay, keep me posted, and I promise to tread carefully.”

  After hanging up she glared at her laptop and wondered if she should try squeezing out a few paragraphs. She gave up on the idea of fleshing out the love scene between her main characters and decided sleep would help her forget that she was still dwelling in a mansion on an island where America’s most eligible bachelor currently resided.

  And maybe she’d be able to forget about her most recent kiss with Brody.

  Yeah. And maybe someday Lisa would set her up on a date with someone who didn’t live with his parents or receive a monthly stipend due to good looks, nice hair, and the right last name.

  Brody stared at the king sized bed in his suite, and for the first time in his life dreaded going to bed all by himself. He didn’t want to repose on one side while the other half of the bed lay empty, and he didn’t want anyone filling that empty space except the fiery red-head he was currently chasing with a vengeance.

  She was still here. He’d made certain of that when he’d tiptoed next to her door and listened to her muffled voice as she spoke to someone on her phone. At least she hadn’t fled the mansion in one angry huff. Still, he planned on camping out next to her room for the rest of the night.

  Rubbing some tension from his neck he reached in his back pocket and pulled out his cell phone. It might be nothing. Madelyn accidentally locking herself in the closet was a plausible enough story to believe, but the fear lurking behind her bright green eyes and the way she’d glanced to her cut hand gave Brody an unsettling idea, a possibility that she hadn’t been completely forthcoming with him, and he wasn’t about to complacently accept her explanations when his gut was telling him something wasn’t right.

  “Gregg, I need you to look into someone’s background for me,” Brody said in a whisper.

  “Do you have any idea what time it is?” Greg said, clearly annoyed.

  Brody squeezed his cell phone in impatience.

  “You’re an insomniac, Gregg. You can’t tell me you were sleeping when pacing tends to be your forté.”

  “I might have just managed a miraculous recovery.”

  “For as long as I’ve known you your entire being has been wound tighter than Tina Turner in concert. I’m concerned about Madelyn. I think someone might be targeting her and considering Felicia Davenport is here, it wouldn’t be a stretch to point the finger at her.”

  He quickly shared his suspicions concerning possible threats to Madelyn’s safety.

  “We’ve already done some extensive background checks on her since her recent stunt with the tabloids. Nothing came up on our radar,” Gregg said.

  “I think Felicia is adept at covering her tracks. If she has a history of deviant and possibly violent behavior, I doubt there’s any history of it with the police. I need you to hire someone to take a look into her history and see what they come up with.”

  “It could be nothing, Brody. Ms. Knightly probably did accidentally lock herself in that closet. Maybe she was trying to get away from you.”

  “I’ve got a feeling, Gregg. You know how these feelings generally tend to pan out.”

  “To the tune of several billion dollars.” Gregg let out a tired sigh. “Okay. I’ll get started on it right now, but Brody, if you really think Felicia might be dangerous you should consider eliminating Ms. Knightly as soon as you can.”

  Brody immediately dismissed that thought, selfishly, he knew, but he couldn’t protect the woman he cared for if he wasn’t close to her, and there was no guarantee that Felicia would leave Madelyn alone once she left the show. What if something happened to her while he was stuck here, playing a farce and pretending to enjoy the dates he went on when the woman he wanted wasn’t even on the same island anymore? He was here for Madelyn, and if it came right down to it, he would leave with Madelyn if he thought he couldn’t protect her. For now, it was just a feeling with nothing concrete to go on.

  “Just find out if Felicia is dangerous, and we’ll go from there.”

  “Will do. Get some sleep for me. Heaven knows mine will be sporadic.”

  “At best.”

  Brody threw his phone on the bed, and then walked over to his window, opening it to let in the balmy breeze sweeping in from the ocean. No matter what he discovered he wasn’t going to let Madelyn get away from him again.

  Okay. Maybe that did sound like the musings of an obsessive stalker. Not wanting to analyze his behavior any further he threw himself into the routine of getting ready for bed, wishing with all his heart that Madelyn was sharing it with him.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Today we are going to be introducing something new, something that hasn’t been done on any other dating show.
We are going to try something called The Date Challenge.” Les Lassiter declared, flashing is Colgate smile and blinding the contestants in the process.

  Boring.

  Like she cared if she won or lost a date challenge here. Midge gave her father in the corner an indifferent glance when he mouthed something along the lines of you better behave, and then focused her attention on the open windows across the room. A small bird, colorfully bright against the morning sunrise infused in her a desperate longing for freedom. If only she could take flight and escape all of the perfumed odors in the room.

  “The Date Challenge is an opportunity to compete for a chance at a one-on-one date with Brody Prescott this week. We will offer up a challenge pertinent to Brody’s specific needs for his business and personal life, and he will choose his date from the group that excels in this challenge. Essentially, we will be breaking you off into four different groups, and since there are fourteen contestants left, two of the groups will have four members.”

  There was a slight groan at the unfairness of the situation, but Midge certainly didn’t care either way.

  “If you ladies will follow me to the kitchens please, we can continue our further instructions there.”

  The contestants rose in one perfectly choreographed perfumed wave and followed Les out of the main meeting room with the crew hot on their heels. Upon entering the kitchen, which incidentally looked like the cooking set from Cupcake Wars—hmmm cupcakes—Midge crossed to the cooking area assigned to her and faced the front doors as everyone else took their respective places.

  Brody Prescott came striding into the room with a confident air and commanding presence. She swallowed hard as a tight ball of desire coiled within her. Her pulse jumped when his eyes sought out and found hers, pausing long enough to send ripples of tension along her spine. The small hitch of her breath caught his notice and his lips curled into a smug smile, and then he turned to address everyone.

  Curse that blasted man!

  “This particular challenge is going to test your ability to embrace other cultures,” Brody stated.

  Midge did her best to avoid flinching when his gaze flicked back to her once again before moving to scan the rest of the ladies assembled.

  “Due to the widespread success of my business, I entertain sponsors from all over the world, and I do my best to make them feel as comfortable and welcome as possible. My future wife will need to be familiar with the details and customs of these countries in order to perform her duties as hostess to the best of her abilities. These challenges have been set up to test those abilities.”

  Brody strode to the middle of the kitchen. He was surrounded by various cooking stations. With hands clasped behind his back and his head held high he played the part of an intimidating CEO to perfection. His charisma and charm caused his presence to fill every available space within the various stations.

  “The social gatherings I host will always serve cuisine that my guests are comfortable consuming. Though I don’t expect any of you ladies to actually cook for these events, you will need to become familiar with dishes that may not appeal to your particular palate or preference. So as not to offend my guests, you will need to acquire a taste for them either way. For this challenge your group must prepare a specific meal, pertinent to the country given to you in each of your group’s envelopes, and then you must eat a serving upon completion.”

  Midge’s glance shifted to the white envelope at the center counter of her group’s work station, wondering what country they had been allotted. She hoped undercooked octopus wouldn’t be their challenge for the day. Chewing the legs on those suckers was like tearing into rubber. When she’d traveled with her dad to Japan for a particular location shot, she’d been subjected to the nasty meal and forced to eat the entire thing. Her father had been proud of her for finishing her meal. He still remained ignorant to the fact that she had purged herself of the ugly mess after excusing herself to use the strange Japanese bathroom, a precarious adventure in and of itself.

  “The first group to successfully cook and eat their meal will be the winners and candidates for a one-on-one date with yours truly.” Brody flashed a pearly white smile causing every female within a ten-foot radius to swoon in delight.

  Midge nearly swooned right along with them.

  Cheese and crackers!

  “Ladies, you may begin.”

  With that the cook-off was in full swing. A slight blond girl in her group lunged for the white envelope and ripped it open with her sharp nails. They looked a little like talons to Midge. She made a mental note to cook a safe distance away from the lethal looking things, and then the young lady turned and she recognized Cambria.

  “Okay. Our country is China,” Cambria shouted.

  Midge let out a stifled moan while the two other girls jumped up and down in excitement. She nearly let out another one when she heard the girl behind her say, “I just love Panda Express.”

  Clueless, the whole lot of them.

  Cambria continued to jump up and down until she finally took the time to read the dish assigned to them.

  “We have to prepare a dish of shanghaied cicadas.” She glanced up at the rest of the group. “Is cicada like a type of vegetable?”

  Seriously?

  Silence met her stupid question. Midge scrunched her forehead in defeat. Apparently, the burden of enlightening the group fell to her.

  “Cicadas are bug-eyed locusts, sweetie. We’ve been asked to prepare a dish of cooked locusts and eat them.”

  “That’s crazy,” another girl exclaimed among the squeals of disgust from the rest of the them.

  The disgruntled moans from all of the other groups made Midge wonder what kind of other culinary atrocities had been doled out. For her part, she considered cicadas pretty low key compared to what they could have been assigned. She didn’t mind them either. If you could get past the legs and wings they tasted a bit like lobster tail with about the same consistency. Even better than their dish choice was the idea that none of these girls would be willing to put their perfectly polished digits on a cicada, dead or alive, let alone eat one. Her group had zero chance of winning this challenge. Which meant zero chance of going on a date with Brody.

  Perfect.

  Her mood brightened at that thought.

  “Okay, ladies. Let’s get to it.” She turned to Cambria. “I’m assuming we have a recipe to work with?”

  Cambria let out a nervous laugh and handed the envelope over. “You aren’t seriously going to make this, are you?”

  “Well, I generally prefer crickets and grasshoppers to cicadas, but I’m flexible.”

  She tried not to snicker at the looks of revulsion on everyone’s faces as she opened the freezer and pulled out a large mixing bowl with her name taped to the front of it. She then moved to the counter and took the lid off. Inside, she beheld frozen cicadas.

  Appetizing.

  Ah well. At least she was getting an entertaining reaction out of the plastic bimbos in her group. She figured she might as well make the best of it.

  Midge pulled out another folded sheet from the envelope and read the ingredients.

  60 freshly emerged cicadas

  2 tsp. sea salt

  4 tbsp. organic anise seeds

  2 tbsp. soy sauce

  4 cups salted sherry wine

  4 cups rice wine

  Some celery for garnish

  20 cloves of mashed up garlic

  Turnip greens and parsley for a garnish

  She dutifully gathered all of her ingredients together, placing them on the counter in front of her. She paused for a moment as she felt all eyes on her and turned to see that the three other girls in her group were watching her with interest.

  “You know, it wouldn’t hurt any of you to at least try to prepare it. No one says you have to eat the dang things, but it might be a fun story to tell at social gatherings.”

  She let that sink in as she turned around and filled her silver pot with the sal
ted sherry wine. She then dumped the entire bowl of cicadas into the wine and used a mixing spoon to ensure that they were completely submerged. Then she added the anise seed.

  “Can I work next to you?” Cambria asked. She offered Midge a tentative smile. It surprised her. This girl seemed to be afraid Midge would refuse her company.

  “Of course you can. My name is Midge.”

  “I thought it was Madelyn.”

  “My friends call me Midge,” she responded automatically. She didn’t miss the happy look that swept across Cambria’s face.

  “I’m Cambria.”

  “I know. It was easy for me to remember because I thought it a very pretty name.”

  “Thank you. My mother thought it was the perfect stage name for a girl on the cusp of Hollywood success.”

  “On the cusp of—you were a newborn when you received this name, correct?”

  Cambria let out a rueful chuckle.

  “According to my mother, a person’s career begins at birth.”

  “Sounds like our moms attended the same PTA meetings.”

  “You ladies look like you’re having fun. Can I join in?” Charlene moved up to her right side and began filling her pot with salted sherry wine.

  “The more the merrier,” Midge said. “I’m just going to set this on the burner.” As she moved toward the oven she nearly tripped over someone’s foot. She stumbled forward and regained her footing, but her momentum caused the sherry wine to slosh all over her shirt.

  Well, isn’t this lovely? Now I smell like my mother.

  “Are you okay, Midge?” Cambria asked.

  “No worries. My clumsiness is a health hazard I’m used to.” She set her sherry soaked cicadas on the burner and turned on the gas stove.

  Okay. These babies need to boil for six minutes.

  “How is it you seem to know your way around cicadas?” Charlene asked with a smile.