Seducing the Billionaire's Wife

by Marquita Valentine

  Butterflies fluttered in her stomach at his compliment. “That’s so sweet.”

  “I’ll keep you so damn satisfied that there won’t be a need for you to take a lover.”

  She made a face. “Oh, good Lord,” she muttered.

  He hooked a finger under her chin and lifted. Dipping his head, he brushed the lightest of kisses against her mouth. “So damn sweet.”

  Lightheaded, she swayed toward him. “Drew.”

  He crushed his mouth to hers, sweeping his tongue inside. It felt as though he was claiming her, as though he was marking her as his, and she hadn’t agreed to anything.

  She clutched at the lapels of his suit jacket, her fingers curling inward. All she could do as he ravaged her mouth was hold on and on, and kiss him back. Curl her tongue around his while whimpers that she couldn’t contain broke free.

  One hand slid around her head and then down a little, to cradle her neck, while the other swept down her back, molding her against him. Wanting him closer, she pressed herself against him and let go of his jacket. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her breasts flattening against his chest. Her nipples hardened.

  Yet, as turned on as she was by him, all she could think was this was Drew. Her one and only. The man who she’d compared every potential date, every potential boyfriend to over the years. Every single one of them came up short.

  Drew broke their kiss and worked his way down her throat, nuzzling and biting along the way, and then back up again to find her ear. He bit the delicate skin there, his tongue and teeth working together to drive her insane with need.

  His hand moved from her lower back, traveling upward to cup a breast. He rubbed the tip of her hard nipple over the starch crispness of her maid’s uniform.

  Suddenly, the earth moved or tilted or something happened, because the next thing she knew, Drew had her straddling his lap and her dress was hiked almost up to her waist. She bore down on his erection as he thrust up. Her head fell back and this time, he grabbed her hips, moving her back and forth. The delicious friction made her body shudder.

  She moaned.

  “Damn. We have to stop,” he said, and she sat up to look at him, but he didn’t stop exploring her body. Over and over, he ran one hand down the center of her uniform, his dark gaze on her face. “I could unbutton this, have you flat on your back, and be inside of you before you could blink.”

  Clarity returned and with it, the tiniest bit of embarrassment, not for kissing him exactly, or letting him do what he wanted… But rather, the fact that he was her boss now and she’d just violated the cardinal rule of employment. Never get involved with the boss.

  Scrambling off him, she shoved her uniform down and pressed a hand to her mouth.

  He smiled at her, satisfaction and longing in his gaze. “Are those reasons enough for you?”

  How was she supposed to answer?

  His eyes narrowed. “Say yes, Hannah, or I’ll marry Alexis George instead. She’s number two on my list.”

  That did it. There was no way in hell she’d let her childhood tormentor ever win Drew again. “I’ll marry you.”

  Chapter Six

  ‡

  “If you’ll excuse me,” Drew said, pulling his phone out of his pocket and making a call. “Yes, give us ten minutes.” He ended the call and stood. “Ready?”

  Hannah’s eyebrows almost shot to the top of her head. “We’re getting married right now?”

  He nodded as he picked up a leather briefcase from the other side of the chair and placed it on top of the conference table. “I wouldn’t deny you a formal ceremony, but like I said, time isn’t on our side.” He opened the leather case, placed the IOU inside, then pulled out a stapled document, and held it out to her. “Here’s the prenup.”

  “What does it say?” she asked, taking it from him.

  He closed the briefcase and came around to her side of the table. “The first few pages list my assets and yours. It also lists my financial holdings, my debt, etc. The last two pages detail your compensation.”

  Napa Valley Vineyard. Devil’s Island Residence. Shares of Apple and Google. “I don’t want to know everything about your finances or holdings.”

  “I don’t see why not,” he said softly. “You should know what you’re getting into.”

  “Just show me where to sign.”

  He flipped through several pages, and then pointed to the last paragraph. “This sums up everything. You’ll get one million per year with a lump sum of ten million at the end of five years. If there are any children, then that lump sum would go to them and be kept in trust. It also states that I have absolutely no claim to your earnings or The Magnificent Dunes once you become owner.”

  Tipping her head to the side, she asked, “You wouldn’t want to stay married even if we have kids?”

  His green eyes shuttered. “I wouldn’t force you to stay with me.” He scrubbed his face with his hand. “Honestly, sweetheart, I’m married to MI. Have been for the last seven years and I don’t see that changing in the near future. In any case, we’ll take every precaution.”

  “But what if—?”

  “Then we’ll renegotiate.”

  “Children shouldn’t be a part of a contract,” she said sadly.

  “I don’t have that luxury. Neither would my children, even if I weren’t in this predicament.”

  Her heart went out to him. She couldn’t help it. This was her childhood friend, after all, and he was in need. He was hurting. She could see it, even if he couldn’t.

  With a small, determined smile, she grabbed a pen from the center of the table and signed.

  “Initial here, and then date it,” he said, leaning over her. His body brushed against hers, and she shivered. “My turn.” He seemed to deliberately touch her fingers with his as he took the pen. A few seconds later, the papers were signed. “Let’s get this done.”

  Straightening, he took the papers and placed them inside the briefcase.

  Glancing down at her uniform, she picked at an imaginary thread. “It would have been nice to change first,” she muttered.

  The conference room door opened. A man and two women entered the room. Drew greeted the trio and began the introductions. “This is Bill. He’s an ordained minister and will be performing the ceremony.”

  “And the two women?” Hannah asked faintly.

  “His sisters and our witnesses. I would have asked your friends and family to come, but this is a matter of urgency, and I didn’t want to have to explain… things. Later, we can have a real wedding.”

  A real wedding? He wanted a real wedding later to celebrate a fake marriage? “We’ll have two weddings?”

  A glimmer of a smile curved Drew’s lips. “Unless you don’t want one.”

  “Only if I don’t have to wear this uniform,” she said with a laugh.

  “You’re beautiful, no matter what you’re wearing,” he said softly, taking her by the hand and leading her away from the table. His forest-green eyes were full of sincerity. And desire.

  Her heart flipped, and tingles of awareness shot through her. How long had she wanted Drew to look at her like that? How long had she’d written in her journal: Hannah Montgomery. Mrs. Drew Montgomery. And now, it was coming true.

  A throat cleared. She snapped out of her daydream and realized that everyone was staring at her. “Could you repeat that?”

  “Just say ‘I do’,” Drew prompted. His grip on her hand tightened. “Trust me, Hannah. I’d never hurt you.”

  She wasn’t too sure about that, but maybe she could change his mind? Maybe she could convince him that their marriage was forever. “I do.”

  The rest of the ceremony went by in a blur, until Drew kissed her again. Then, everything became clear. Sharp. She sighed into his kiss, loving the feel of him. Loving that she’d have the right to kiss him and touch him anytime she wanted.

  All too soon, he pulled away, leaving her standing by herself. “Thank you,” he said.

  “You�
�re welcome,” she said, and then smashed her lips shut when she saw Drew shake the minister and the witnesses’ hands.

  “Mrs. Montgomery, we need your John Hancock as well,” Bill said, and she started.

  She was Mrs. Montgomery. Hannah Montgomery.

  They all signed the marriage certificate, and then a duplicate one.

  “I’ll file this tomorrow.” Bill took the original one and placed it in a manila folder. “First thing.”

  “Thanks again, Bill. I have complete confidence in your discretion.” The minister mimed zipping his lips as Drew continued, “Wouldn’t want word to get out that I’m married. At least, not yet.”

  “Does that mean our wedding isn’t official?” she asked after the trio left the room.

  “It’s official,” Drew said, taking the duplicate and folding it in half, then half again—just like he had with her IOU when she’d given it to him. He shoved it in his suit jacket pocket instead of the briefcase.

  How odd. Why wouldn’t he put it in his briefcase?

  Drew caught her staring at him. “The government needs their forms. And so does my father.”

  “How did you get a marriage license?” she asked.

  “I obtained one.”

  “Don’t I have to be there, too?”

  “Not if I have an affidavit from you.”

  “But you didn’t have one of those from me,” she said, and the enormity of what he had done hit her. “You faked my name.”

  “I did what was necessary.”

  “Was the minister even real?” she cried, throwing her hands in the air. “Or did you fake his ordainment?”

  “Minister with the Church of Beer. Completely legitimate and local.”

  “We got married in the Church of Beer? My grandmother is going to flip out.”

  Drew crossed the room, framing her face with his hands. “She won’t. I promise.”

  “But how can you?”

  “Have I ever lied to you?”

  No, he hadn’t, but he had lied to the government and God only knew who else. Instead of answering, she shook her head slowly.

  “In a couple of weeks, we’ll have a real ceremony.” He kissed her forehead. “Then a honeymoon. Affidavits aren’t accepted for those.”

  She laughed, unable to help herself. “I’m surprised you don’t want a honeymoon tonight.”

  His lips moved from her forehead to her cheek and then her jaw, nibbling and tasting her there. “I’m trying to be a gentleman.”

  “Do you always try to be one?” she asked as he neared her lips. She was dying for his mouth. The pressure. The firmness. The way his tongue found hers and stroked.

  “Of course. I’m a Montgomery.”

  His lips found hers, giving her kisses so addicting that she was sure he was a drug. A drug she needed to quit. For now, anyway. “Stop,” she said, turning her face away. “I need to… we need to figure out what’s next.”

  Drew let go of her, his eyes hooded. “I booked a room at Chesson House over in Holland Springs.”

  “Not here?”

  “I need to work, and I thought you would be too much of a distraction.” A ghost of a smile flickered on his face. “It appears I was correct.”

  “So we get married and you just go back to work?”

  “Don’t you have a job to do as well?”

  Yeah, she did, but his kisses had a mind-scrambling effect on her. “We’re winterizing the hotel, and then I’m free until about April.” During the winter months, she would do odd jobs here and there, but mostly, she used the time to read, take classes offered at the local community college, and spend time with friends. Basically, all the things she didn’t have time for during high season.

  Much like Drew, her work was her entire life.

  “About that,” he said. “I’ve instructed the staff to wait.”

  “Why?” she asked, genuinely curious.

  He bit the side of his lip. “Thought you would like to have the ceremony here, like you said you wanted when we were kids?”

  “I can’t believe you remember I said that,” she said.

  “There are many things I remember about you. About us. You made a considerable impression on me, Hannah.” He cleared his throat. “I really need to go. The papers need to be scanned and emailed to my father.”

  “What am I supposed to do in the meantime?”

  “What would your normally do?”

  “Go home, gorge on peel-and-eat shrimp, watch reruns of Sherlock, and then crash—super exciting things like that,” she said.

  Drew moved to the conference table and grabbed his briefcase. He couldn’t imagine a night like that. Without phone calls, emails, or text messages. Without business meetings conducted in local time with partners on the other side of the world. He couldn’t afford a night without all those things. Ironic considering his net worth.

  “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  Hannah held out her hand. “Give me your phone.”

  Reluctantly, he handed it over. He already had her number, but he wasn’t too sure what she’d think. But honesty prevailed. “You’re already in there.”

  Her brows rose. “Then that will make it easier for me to get you on my contact list.” Her fingers swept across his keyboard. “All done. I’ve just texted myself.” With a smile, she handed his phone back and he shoved it in his pocket.

  They stood there, just looking at one another. He knew she was waiting on him to leave, yet he didn’t want to leave her. He wanted to carry her home with him. To his home in Charlotte.

  Hell, he wanted to take her to Chesson House.

  But she was right. They needed to figure out what to do next. Certainly, he knew what he wanted, but Hannah—obviously—wasn’t of the same mind. He could live with that for the time being. Her request wasn’t unreasonable, and as sweetly as she greeted him—and later kissed him—their inevitable conclusion would be welcomed. Maybe even as desired by her as it was by him.

  God, the taste of her. She was so giving, so responsive… and felt so damn good in his arms, his lap. Tiny she might be, but her curves were perfectly proportioned.

  His grip tightened on the handle of his briefcase. He glanced at the clock on the wall. Damn it. “I only have a few hours left,” he said. “I promise to contact you tomorrow. If you wish to inform your grandparents, I have no objections. However, please ask them to keep the news to themselves until we formally announce our intentions.”

  “You’re all business, aren’t you?” she asked, her light, teasing gaze searching his face. “Maybe the old Drew needs to come out and play with me again.”

  “Maybe.” He grinned, unable to help himself. Hannah was that infectious. With one last, lingering gaze, he strode out of the conference room and to the waiting limo outside.

  Once the limo started down the driveway, he pulled out his phone to see what Hannah had texted herself.

  This is your husband, Drew Montgomery. I will text you tomorrow after six PM.

  “Well, that’s settled.” He couldn’t go back on his word, even if she’d been the one to give it. As he gazed out of the window, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d looked more forward to an appointment.

  His phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen.

  HANNAH: Tell your secretary to mark down this coming Saturday as a day to spend with your wife, Hannah Montgomery.

  DREW: What about Sunday?

  He blinked. What had made him type that response?

  HANNAH: I’ll try to pencil you in, but you have to be gone before Sherlock comes on at 8. Sorry. Standing appointment. ;)

  Throwing his head back, he roared with laughter.

  The partition between the front and back seats lowered. “Everything okay, Mr. Montgomery?” his driver asked.

  Shaking his head, Drew chuckled. “Not really, but I don’t give a damn.” He meant it, he realized. Until this point, nothing about the last two days were okay. Everything had been fucked up. His father’s demands were gr
ating and to have to fake Hannah’s signature made him feel… guilty.

  But now… he glanced at the screen again.

  DREW: Far be it from me to interfere with Benedict Cumberbatch.

  HANNAH: *swoons* You know who Benedict is?

  Actually, the only reason he knew of the actor was due to his secretary’s obsession with the show and the fact that Blake gave her a hard time about it. They’d argued about it one day, when neither of them knew he could hear. For whatever reason, his easygoing secretary Ella couldn’t stand Blake.

  DREW: Doesn’t everyone?

  HANNAH: They should. Okay, I’ll leave you alone. Talk to you tomorrow.

  Though he didn’t want to end their conversation, he knew he had to—he had calls to return. Starting with his father. Yes, he would send the paperwork to him, but he wanted to actually speak with the man.

  DREW: Goodbye

  He scrolled through his contact list, quickly finding the one he wanted, and hit the phone icon. His father answered on the third ring.

  “It’s done. I’m married,” he said flatly.

  Silence met him for a heartbeat or two… or ten. “Who’s the lucky lady?” Drew knew the question was meant to be playful, but there was an undertone of seriousness to his father’s query.

  “Hannah Miller. As soon as I arrive at Chesson House, I’ll scan and email the marriage certificate.”

  “Who the hell is that?” his father practically barked.

  “My wife.” His father could do what everyone else at their company chose to do when confronted with an unknown—use their vast resources to conduct a background check.

  “Andrew—”

  “There’s nothing more you need to know. I met your demands, and now I expect you to fulfill your obligations.”

  Silence permeated the air again.

  His father exhaled. “That you did. As soon as the email comes in, I’ll sign the documents and send you a copy.”

  “Thank you.” Drew ended their call, his former good mood completely gone.

  His relationship with his dad had been strained for years, and this time, it might have been completely broken. Hell, he felt broken at times with all the pressure that had been put on his shoulders over the years. He’d given and given to Montgomery Industry until there was nothing left.