Marry Your Billionaire: A Modern Cinderella

by C. J. Anaya

  “I knew about the head injury and the blood clot, but not the punctured kidney. I’m relieved I got you in here when I did.”

  I gave him a hard look and wondered why he didn’t sound relieved.

  “What would I do without you?” He sounded sincere, but appeared a little distracted.

  “Well, your life would be pathetically boring considering the fact you never do anything but work at this hospital. Glad I can provide some excitement around here every once in a while.”

  I needed him to joke around with me or crack a smile. He mussed up my long, dark hair in a way that made me certain I looked as if I’d just rolled out of bed. I pushed his hand back and managed a look of annoyance as I attempted to smooth out the damage he’d inflicted.

  The tension we’d felt before I healed Eve was finally beginning to lessen, and my fun-loving, albeit overprotective, father started to resurface.

  “You kept Eve’s lab results a secret then?” I asked.

  My father nodded.

  “The only injuries recorded in her file will be the ones you didn’t heal.” His face looked troubled. “It’s not the most ethical, nor the most subtle thing I’ve ever done, but I felt it necessary that we intercede like this, for John’s sake.”

  That’s what he was worried about. It’s what he was always worried about; being discovered.

  “We saved her life, Dad.”

  “If anyone finds out I fixed the results…”

  “They won’t,” I interrupted. “No one will. Just look at what we’ve accomplished!”

  I turned back to Eve. I was glad I’d had a shift at the hospital earlier. If anyone did see me in the area they’d probably assume I was just working late. I did the cleaning and janitorial work on the third floor. It wasn’t a glamorous job, but it gave me some extra pocket money, and allowed me to pursue my main reason for being here. I wanted to help the patients who needed me. In my mind that was everyone, but my father was big on keeping a low profile. I stuck to healing children, and only if their injuries were life-threatening. Sometimes I helped teenagers and adults when they’d accept me, but many wouldn’t allow me to connect with them. There were so many resistant and untrusting people out there.

  I would have liked to have worked as a doctor myself and helped in a more official capacity, especially since I knew more about the human body than any other doctor I’d ever encountered, including my own father. Being a high school senior wasn’t the same as being a college graduate with an MD, so I had to settle for janitorial work.

  At the start of each shift my father would bring me into his office on the second floor and discuss the condition of any patient he felt might benefit from my gift. He didn’t like having me here healing people and would have avoided it all together, but considered it a necessary evil after learning the first three months of my job had been spent dodging various hospital personnel in order to sneak into patient’s rooms and heal as many children as I possibly could.

  When a twelve-year-old autistic boy with a broken leg was miraculously healed from not only the break, but the autism as well, it caused such an uproar amongst the staff and the boy’s parents that my father nearly fired me.

  Oops!

  I had to suffer through a huge lecture about remaining discreet and avoiding attention, but secretly I was congratulating myself on the young boy’s condition. He was an awesome kid and had so much to offer. After that, my father began monitoring all extra-curricular activities during my shifts. It annoyed me, but I guess I could see the wisdom in it.

  There was a Pediatric Oncology Unit that took up the entire third floor. It was funded by some wealthy congressman whose teenage boy had been saved from a fatal gunshot wound by my father. I’d played a major role in that particular miracle, but no one could know that. When I wasn’t cleaning the hospital rooms or making beds I spent the majority of my time with the oncology patients. The children seemed so excited for the visits, and for me, that was all that mattered. I tried not to get too attached to them, though. I knew there were many who’d eventually pass on, and I wouldn’t be able to prevent it from happening.

  That being said, I’d grown very fond of a ten-year-old boy named Kirby and visited him as often as I could in order to ease his pain and attempt to heal him. The healing never took, though, and each attempt became a bit more heartbreaking for both Kirby and myself.

  I kept trying anyway. I wasn’t going to stop trying until I figured out what was preventing me from being successful.

  My attention was brought back to the present when my father suggested I call it a night and head for home. I nodded, getting ready to walk my weary frame out the door when a thought hit me.

  “Were there any other people hurt in the accident?” I asked.

  He looked at the floor and swallowed.

  “Dad?”

  I moved directly in front of him so he couldn’t avoid my gaze. He let out a loud sigh and sat down in one of the chairs.

  “John’s office aid, Sarah. She was in the car with them.”

  I looked down at the floor feeling unreasonably angry.

  “You were just going to let me go home without even allowing me to assess her situation? She’s the closest thing to a mother that Eve has.” I felt my eyes flash with indignation.

  “Hope, just walk away from this one,” he pleaded a bit desperately. “She’s an adult. It will be too difficult for you to connect with her, and there’s nothing you can do. I don’t want you internalizing that. I don’t want you comparing this situation to what you’ve already been through with…” he stopped talking before the thought could be finished.

  My father rarely touched on the subject of my mother. All it ever did was leave an uncomfortable silence in its wake. Then he’d be withdrawn and pensive for the rest of the day.

  “Just let this one go, okay?”

  I shook my head, refusing to look at his pained expression. I didn’t want him suffering due to my decisions, but I couldn’t walk away from anyone. Not if there was a chance I could help. Being acquainted with Sarah didn’t make the situation any easier. I wasn’t close to her, but I knew Eve couldn’t lose another mother.

  “You know I can’t do that. I have to at least try. For Eve’s sake, I have to try.”

  “I promise there’s absolutely nothing you can do, and I didn’t get access to her records in time. Her situation is known amongst all applicable staff. There’s really no changing this one, Hope.”

  “Can I just see her?”

  He ran his hands through his hair and let out a frustrated sigh.

  “Only if Betty’s working this shift. I won’t be able to sneak you in if the nurse on call is anyone else.”

  Betty was the head nurse at the hospital. She tended to turn a blind eye to my sporadic interference because she respected my father, and she was religious enough to believe that my “healing influence” was a direct gift from god. That’s what she said, anyway. If she suspected what I was really capable of she never let on.

  Even though my father was Chief Surgeon at the hospital he still needed to be careful and follow protocol as much as possible, but his status made it much easier for me to maneuver my way around, healing whomever he allowed me to heal.

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  “Don’t thank me yet,” he grumbled as he reluctantly stood up. “I still think this is a bad idea.”

  I pushed my overprotective father out the door and followed him down the hallway.

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  Acknowledgments

  My editor, Jennifer Griffith, is an absolute rock star. I thank her profusely for the extra time she spent helping me get this book just right. I also want to thank my amazing beta readers, Jenn Earl, Carlie Thompson, and Krystle Henrie for giving me their honest opinions and suggestions to make Marry Your Billionaire the absolute best it could be. It’s always easier to slash and cut away at your ma
nuscript when you have smart, supportive people working alongside you. And finally, I thank my husband Joe for always believing that this crazy dream of becoming an author was something worthwhile.

  Best. Husband. Ever.

  About The Book

  The idea for this book can be blamed on our foreign exchange student from Switzerland, Alyssia Keller, who came to live with us during the school year of 2014-2015. She’d been a fan of The Bachelor for quite some time, while I had done an admirable job of avoiding that show like I would a sugar-free diet. I couldn’t think of anything more ridiculous than watching desperate women fighting over a knuckle head who probably joined the show just so he could get laid. What were these women thinking? Why in the world put yourself through all of that drama? No guy could be worth such heartache.

  Right?

  I knew you’d understand.

  These were all of the arguments—valid arguments—I posed to Alyssia when she insisted I sit down and start the new season of The Bachelor with her. The bachelor in question? Chris Soules.

  Because I’m a good sport…and also because she promised me an endless supply of Swiss chocolate, I agreed and sat down to watch the show.

  Holy crap! I was hooked within the first ten minutes.

  Dang it.

  It was like watching a train wreck and waiting for the inevitable carnage to follow. You know you should probably shield your eyes, but you simply can’t tear yourself away.

  So entertaining.

  As I watched Chris begin his first round of make-out sessions, I thought about how no one in the world could have paid me nearly enough money to put myself in that situation.

  Then I wondered what might happen if someone didn’t want to be on the show, but was forced into it. What would motivate a woman to agree to something like that? What if the bachelor in question decided she was the one for him and refused to let her leave?

  How delicious!

  So I got to work on it right away. Of course, I had to continue watching the show. Purely for the sake of research, mind you, lest you think I couldn’t pull myself away from the TV to go make dinner…or do laundry…or wash the dishes. And then it was absolutely imperative that I continue my research by watching The Bachelorette.

  Right?

  I knew you’d understand.

  For the record, I still think the idea of a dating reality TV series is ridonculous, but that’s what makes it so entertaining. Plus, I became super attached to all of the contestants and their relationships with the bachelor…which is exactly what those devious TV producers want you to do.

  Stinkers.

  Needless to say, my foreign exchange student and I spent many evenings planted in front of the TV with an unhealthy amount of popcorn and Swiss chocolate in front of us, arguing the finer points of life married to Whitney versus life married to Becca or even Kaitlyn. And who can dispute Kaitlyn’s extreme likability? And how awesome was it to witness every single emotional melt down, including the fake panic attack from Kelsey and her tactless claim that the death of her husband was the best backstory on the entire show?

  Classic.

  I do so love research.

  Fairy Tale

  (A love song for Madelyn and Brody)

  This game we play, with love on the line

  There’s much more at stake than words can define.

  It’s not real. It’s fake

  But my heart’s invested now.

  So you take your place, and act out your part

  And I’ll plead my case before I depart

  And pray you’ll give chase

  No longer pretending now

  (Pre-chorus)

  Oh, it’s furthest from the truth

  To pretend I’m over you.

  To deny I ever loved you from the start.

  (Chorus)

  I’ll carve out words you’ll remember

  I’ll sing out notes that together

  Will hold you, save you, keep you, make you mine.

  I’ll write down words to our story

  Shed light on the darkness before these

  Harsh winds, these strong gales

  Break and make us fail.

  Our own fairy tale

  (Verse 2)

  Out first touch, first kiss though it was for show

  Felt more real to me, than you’ll ever know

  It’s not what you see, but what your heart can’t deny.

  I’ll rewrite the past and add to the pros

  A new time and place for our love to grow

  A chance to retrace our steps without letting go

  (Pre-chorus 2)

  You might think you’re all alone

  With a script that’s not your own

  But my feigned indifference

  Must have caught your eye.

  (Chorus)

  (Bridge)

  If we all have our parts to play

  And love just can’t get in the way

  Why can’t I say I don’t want you?

  Denying what we know is real

  Letting go of all we feel.

  I can’t hide it. I can’t fight it.

  (Chorus)

  Please don’t let me walk away

  before we can save our own fairy tale.

  The proceeds from this book are helping to fund the recording of this song. Thank you for contributing to that. If you would like to be sent an email with a free download link to the song once it’s been recorded, you can subscribe to my newsletter here and pick up a few other freebies in the process. To learn more about my music just visit my website here.

  About the author

  I began writing short stories for family and friends when I was thirteen years old. My vivid imagination and love of mysteries and romances eventually led me to following my own dreams of becoming a published author. I also do some book review work for SDE Magazine on the side.

  I’m a huge fan of The Mindy Project, Hugh Jackman, and binge eating any and all things chocolate.

  Who isn’t?

  As a mother of four awesome kids I’m usually playing beauty salon with my daughters—my four-year-old shaved my arm one time while I was helping another daughter with her homework. Yep. That happened—getting my fanny kicked in Mario Kart by my snarky little son, and making out with my deliciously handsome Latin lover, aka, my hubby.

  Stop by and say hello to C.J. Anaya on her website at http://authorcjanaya.com

  Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/cjanayaauthor

  Twitter: CJAnaya21