Temporary Wife : A Billionaire Fake Marriage Romance

by Tara Crescent

  “I ran the cost projections on that,” he said. “It would have been too expensive. That glass atrium alone would have added a million dollars to the project cost.”

  The extra cost was inconsequential. This was the most important project of my career. It carried my name, damn it.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” My voice rose, and Steve flinched. I never yelled at work. “To save a million dollars, you offer me this piece-of-shit design? I promised to incorporate a park into our design, Steve. Do you understand that? Do you think my word means nothing?”

  “This is a park,” he unwisely insisted. “It satisfies the requirements. I checked with Manny.”

  “Manny’s not in charge.”

  That should have stopped Steve cold. It didn’t. He ran his hands through his hair in frustration. “You hired me to keep this project on track,” he said. “I’m trying to do that.”

  No. No. He was missing the forest for the trees. We had a chance to do something unique, creative and inspiring, and if we succeeded at it, we would get a ton of free press coverage out of it. Steve’s idea, on the other hand, would draw widespread condemnation. “Why do you think people hire us?”

  Steve kept quiet, a stubborn expression on his face.

  “Because of the prestige of our name. The jobs that keep us in the black, the condos and the townhomes, the business complexes of the world, all those people come to us because of our reputation.”

  I looked at his plan with disgust, Zoe’s words from the party running through my head. She’d told me I’d do the bare minimum necessary, and nothing else. “Throw this crap away and start over,” I snapped. “Draft up the design I drew.”

  Steve sneered. “Some fucking chick comes to city hall and whines on about her childhood, and we’re jumping to her bidding. Whatever, Ryder.”

  White hot anger filled me. I wanted to punch him for talking about Zoe that way. “We are doing this,” I said, very quietly, “because when we agree to do something, we do it with integrity. And if you can’t see that, Steve, then you don’t belong here.”

  He tossed the drawings angrily at my desk and left the room without further comment. Just as well. He’d pushed me almost to snapping point.

  I swept the drawings into a corner of my already overflowing desk and stared at the door he’d walked out of for a long time. When I hired people, I looked for two things. One, a burning desire to do the best possible work they could, every single day. And two, an ability to stand up to me. I wanted people with passion and backbone.

  Steve had backbone. But the passion was lacking, and I had no use for someone who went through the motions.

  I went to pour myself a cup of coffee from the pot that Paige had behind her desk. She looked up with a questioning look on her face. “That was a fucking disaster,” I said.

  “Time to hire someone else?”

  “For the moment, no. He’s going to rework it. But get the process started, will you, Paige? This isn’t going to end well.”

  “Sure.” She smiled. “On a more cheery note, your fiancée called. She’s looking at cars on Saturday.”

  “Good.” I didn’t expect that piece of news to lift my spirits, but it did. Zoe was so self-sufficient and shouldered so much without any complaint. I wanted to make her life easier.

  For six months, I reminded myself. This is a temporary deal.

  But I couldn’t ignore the truth.

  I wanted to make Zoe happy.

  And I didn’t know what to do with that feeling.

  13

  Zoe

  My engagement ring spent most of its day riding around in my pocket. I didn’t want to pull it out and subject myself to Anna’s curiosity. And I certainly didn’t want Brad to see it before I had a chance to break my news.

  I would have never admitted it to Ryder, but I was avoiding talking to Brad. On Tuesday, I decided to it was time to stop procrastinating. The contract was going to be ready to sign tomorrow, the wedding was most likely in a month, and I couldn’t put this off any longer. So I called him and asked if we could meet for a drink.

  “A drink? Really?” He didn’t come out and ask me if I could afford it, but his meaning was obvious from the surprised tone in his voice.

  My brow furrowed. “Yeah.” We settled on a place and a time, and I hung up, vaguely annoyed by Brad’s attitude. Grandma was right. Brad was incredibly self-centered.

  Look, I didn’t expect him to pay my way all the time, but he knew I was struggling, and he wasn’t. He had no problem asking for my help with every single one of his causes, but he never reciprocated. He wanted me to attend Ryder’s party, but he wouldn’t pick me up. Make a statement at city hall, but not a word of thanks after. That was Brad for you.

  He’s always been this way, I told myself. It felt disloyal to think critical thoughts about him. I was comparing him unfavorably to Ryder, and I didn’t like that about myself. Was I already swayed by Ryder’s fancy gifts? Was my loyalty for sale?

  Except that wasn’t fair to Ryder. The laptop hadn’t been an attempt to control me. Bringing me flowers before our date had just been a nice gesture.

  I was going to drive myself insane if I thought about this too much. Ryder had made no pretense of hiding his distrust of Brad, and Brad’s current goal was to ensure that Drake Towers didn’t get built. I felt trapped between the two of them.

  “What’d you want to talk about?” As soon as he’d seen me, Brad had launched into a rant about some reporter at the Star. Evidently, the paper’s write-up about the Drake Towers project didn’t condemn the development outright, and Brad was seething. For twenty minutes, I sat and listened to him, and only one thought ran through my head. I’m going to marry Ryder Drake.

  I really wasn’t looking forward to telling Brad.

  “I have some news.” I swallowed. My skin felt clammy and cold. There was no good way to spin this. “I met someone.”

  Brad raised his eyebrow. “You did? I thought you didn’t date.”

  Again, I squelched down irritation. Yeah, I didn’t date, but it wasn’t exactly by choice. Being poor made many things difficult, and my social life had been one of the casualties. I’d dated a lawyer at our office for a few months until he’d moved away to Calgary, and I’d dated Brad for a year after his parents died. “I met someone a couple of months ago.”

  “You didn’t say anything.” There was a note of accusation in his voice, and I wondered if he was hurt that I hadn’t confided in him.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know where it was going.” Okay, the cover story. Now. “He was quite mysterious, and I was half-afraid he was married.” My fingers worried at the label on my bottle of beer. “It turned out he was hiding something from me, but it wasn’t that he was married.”

  “Evidently, being mysterious is contagious,” Brad snapped. “Spit it out, Zoe.”

  “He gave me a fake last name because he’s rich and afraid of meeting women who are just interested in him for his money. “I lifted my chin up defiantly. This wasn’t going to be pleasant, but like a band-aid, I just needed to rip it clean swiftly. One quick tug. “It’s Ryder Drake.”

  Brad’s face whitened with shock, and I hurried on with my explanation. “I only found out who he really was the day of the town hall meeting.” I gulped down the rest of my beer and signaled the passing waitress for another one. I was going to need it. “We’re getting married.”

  “What?”

  This was excruciatingly awkward. “The wedding’s in a month.” I met his gaze squarely. “I hope you can be happy for us.” I had nothing to be ashamed of. I didn’t owe him anything. Brad had eaten at my grandmother’s table every week in the year after his parents’ death, a year in which he’d been so distraught that he had clung to me for emotional support. Yet when he’d recovered, he’d broken up with me, telling me we weren’t right for each other.

  We hadn’t been right for each other, that was true. But I’d still felt used. He’d needed me during the dark t
imes, but when things became better, I had become disposable.

  And he’d never once asked about my grandmother’s tax bill. He knew it existed, but he hadn’t ever questioned the particulars. To Brad, the solution was easy. Sell the house, pay the city their money, and move somewhere else. He didn’t care that my grandmother loved her house, and didn’t want to go.

  We were friends, but Brad was the reason I’d learned to protect my heart. He was the reason I didn’t rely on anyone other than my grandmother.

  “You’re getting married to Ryder Drake.” Brad’s voice rose, and I winced. Damn it. The bar was crowded, and I didn’t want to make a scene. “How can you, Zoe? Does stopping Drake Towers mean nothing to you? Don’t you want to make a difference?” His face settled into an ugly sneer. “It seems that Drake’s money has blinded you to what’s important.”

  I’d heard enough. I jumped to my feet, blood pounding in my veins. Brad could go fuck himself. It was so easy to stand in judgment when you had nothing to worry about. Brad didn’t have a giant ticking clock over his head. I had seventy-nine days to save my grandmother’s house, and I would do whatever it took. Anything. I tossed a twenty-dollar bill on the table, knowing that we’d eat rice and beans for the rest of the week. “You just called me a gold-digger,” I said, my voice calmer than I felt. “Have a nice life, Brad.”

  It felt good to walk away.

  But Brad was right. There were extenuating circumstances, but it didn’t change the underlying truth. I was marrying Ryder Drake for his money.

  And I hated myself for it.

  14

  Zoe

  A month later, the two of us were married.

  Ryder had suggested I hire Leo’s cousin Sienna to be our wedding planner, and since I had no idea how to plan a big society wedding on short notice, I’d agreed instantly. It was the best decision I made. Sienna knew every vendor in the city, and she was amazingly competent.

  Which was good, because I was unexpectedly busy. The day after I signed the contract with Ryder, I’d gone to my boss’s office and offered my resignation. I’d hoped they would waive the two-weeks’ notice requirement, but instead, they’d begged for an extra week. “Please, Zoe,” the head partner had pleaded. “You’ve been here for eight years. You can’t just get up and walk away.”

  I should have been more hard-hearted, but I couldn’t find the stomach to be stubborn. They’d hired me when I’d been desperate for the work. My fortunes had changed now, but I couldn’t abandon them.

  Though it meant juggling college applications and wedding planning duties in the evenings, I’d ended up staying the extra week. I thought Ryder might have been upset, but he’d been called away to London for an emergency work trip and had been gone two weeks. He’d only flown back home last night, just in time for the wedding.

  “That went well.” I slumped onto the couch in Ryder’s living room and kicked my shoes off. After the wedding, there had been hours of dancing. Sienna had found me a comfortable pair of heels, but my feet were still killing me.

  “Your grandmother looked happy.” Ryder was standing by the window, a glass of scotch in his hand. “I didn’t get a chance to ask you. Did everything go okay with the property taxes?”

  “I think so,” I said. “I mailed them a check. I tried calling them, but it’s still working its way through the system.”

  “The city isn’t speedy in these matters,” he agreed. “We’ve been trying to get the next Drake Towers meeting scheduled, but the soonest they can do it is in five weeks. A ten-week delay.” He shook his head, his tone thick with exasperation.

  “Sorry.” I couldn’t forget that it was my plea for a playground that caused the delay.

  He looked up. “Don’t be,” he said. “That wasn’t a sly dig at you.”

  He came and sat next to me on the couch, and pulled my feet up on his lap. His fingers started to knead at my soles, and I bit back a moan. God, that felt good. His hands were warm, and his touch was firm, and my body was reminding me that Ryder had been away for two weeks. I wanted him very much.

  “Bianca Russo came up to congratulate me,” I commented. “I was afraid she’d give me the third degree, but she was very nice.”

  “She was,” Ryder agreed. “She didn’t seem particularly suspicious, though I’m still wary of her. She’s smart, Bianca, and she doesn’t like being made a fool of.” His hand stroked up my leg, brushing up my calves, and I sighed and squirmed on the couch. My skin tingled where he touched me, and I wanted to throw myself at him like a mad woman. I held back, oddly shy. We were married now. Things felt different.

  “You didn’t invite your friend Brad Wexley to the wedding.” Ryder’s voice was relaxed. “How come?”

  “It just seemed easier to cut back on the drama. As it is, everyone’s already talking about the fact that I showed up to your town hall meeting and demanded you put in a playground.” That whole episode was the subject of intense gossip. More than one person had approached me about it. “How spunky of you, my dear,” one blonde socialite had said, her tone implying otherwise.

  Of course, that wasn’t the only reason Brad wasn’t at my wedding. I hadn’t talked to him since the day I’d stomped out of the bar. He hadn’t called, and I hadn’t either. I was sure we’d eventually get over our tiff, but I wasn’t yet ready for reconciliation.

  Ryder chuckled. “Yes, it’s quite the story,” he agreed.

  His fingers strayed higher, and I was having difficulty keeping my mind on track. “So what happens now?”

  “Right now?” He grinned wickedly at me. “Right now, as beautiful as that wedding dress is, I think you should take it off.”

  “Good to know.” My voice was tart, but I softened the bite of my words by smiling at Ryder. “I meant tomorrow. I guess I should move my stuff in here?”

  “Mmm. I’ll get Paige to arrange for movers, but it won’t be tomorrow.” His gaze rested on mine. “Tomorrow morning, we’re flying to Paris for a honeymoon.”

  “Paris?” I stared blankly at him.

  His lips turned up in a smile. “I read the answers on your questionnaire,” he said. “You’ve always wanted to go to Paris. So, let’s go. The world expects us to have a honeymoon, and I could use a vacation.”

  “You just came back from Europe yesterday.” There was a lump in my chest. He’d read my desires, and he’d acted on it. He didn’t have to. It wasn’t part of our deal. But he had anyway.

  “Exactly. If I fly back tomorrow, I won’t have a chance to get on Toronto time.”

  Paris. It was slowly sinking in. Ryder was taking me to Paris. “You don’t have to do this.”

  “Zoe.” His hands cupped my face, and he kissed my lips gently. “It’s okay to relax a little. It’s just for a week. Your grandmother’s house is taken care of. Your college applications are in the mail. Let’s just go and have a good time?”

  I forced a smile on my face. “Okay,” I agreed. “Paris sounds lovely. Thank you.”

  But my heart was filled with trepidation. It wasn’t relaxing I was worried about. It was letting Ryder in and allowing myself to believe in his kindness. Already, I was looking forward to spending the next week in his company.

  Our relationship was temporary, and I couldn’t allow myself to forget about it.

  15

  Zoe

  After that realization, sleeping with Ryder might not have been the best idea.

  But his clever fingers were running up my inside thighs, and I hadn’t seen him in two weeks. Also, it was my wedding night. Sex seemed necessary.

  “Move this to the bedroom?” he murmured.

  My lips curled into a smile. “I thought you’d never ask.”

  In the bedroom, Ryder helped me get out of my wedding dress. “Too many buttons,” he grumbled. “I have a good mind to rip this off you.”

  “Don’t you dare.” It might not have been a real wedding, but I still loved the dress Gigi had helped me pick. It was satin, with a simple cowl neck and a
gently flowing skirt. I shot him an amused look over my shoulder. “Besides, aren’t you always telling me that I need more patience?”

  He smacked my ass. “Brat.” The last of the buttons undone, the dress slid to the floor, and I stepped out of it. Ryder’s breath caught in his throat. “Oh my God, Zoe.”

  I had gone a little crazy shopping for underwear. I normally hated using the credit card that Ryder had given me, but my willpower had disappeared at Holt Renfrew when I’d come face to face with the sexiness that was Agent Provocateur’s lingerie. “You like?” I asked him, flushing a little as I remembered how expensive my shopping trip had been. “I spent a ton of your money.”

  “And it’s a great use for it.” His eyes were heated as he gazed at me. My breasts were encased in strips of white lace, and my panties were more hole than fabric. But, as the sales clerk had assured me, they were some very strategically placed holes. “Turn around.”

  I spun in a circle, delighted at his obvious arousal. His cock bulged under his dress pants, his erection impossible to hide. “Take off your shirt, Ryder,” I urged him.

  “Zoe, you aren’t in charge tonight.” His expression was intense. “Is that clear?”

  I felt a prickle of apprehension at his serious, intent tone, and a rush of desire. Ryder was always a little dominant in bed. Now, that dominance was more pronounced, and it was hot. “Okay,” I whispered.

  “When I give you an order, Zoe,” he continued, calmly circling me, “I want you to obey. No questions, no back talk. Is that clear?”

  Heat pooled between my legs at his voice, low and controlled, at his gaze, hot and possessive. “Yes, Ryder,” I muttered, more than ready to play this game.