Love Letters from a Billionaire (Lone Star Billionaires, #1)

by Farr, Beverly

“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “Just sway to the music and everyone will be happy.”

  I smiled and relaxed. I supposed that in some ways, that could be a life motto: Just sway to the music.

  VIDAR

  ALL THE HUSTLE AND bustle of the wedding day had given me a throbbing headache, but now that I had Nicole in my arms and we were dancing to a slow song, I felt better. There was something very restful about Nicole that soothed my soul. I had never seen her in a hurry.

  She reminded me of the Simon and Garfunkel song Bridge Over Troubled Waters. I considered asking the orchestra to play that later in the evening and I would dance with her again, humming along.

  I looked forward to the time that we could finally get away from my family and guests and go home, back to Nilsson Tower.

  We had not yet decided on a house to buy, but Nicole had narrowed the selection down to several houses for me to look at.

  That was another thing I liked about her. We had divided up the responsibilities for the wedding and she had done hers with no fuss. Unlike most grooms, I was not pestered to make silly decisions about inconsequential matters. If something worked and there were no complaints, it was done, case closed.

  As we danced, I admired her hair which was curled and styled on top of her head. I admired the elegant curve of her neck. I was tempted to press a kiss to her ear, but I restrained myself.

  Finally, the dance ended, and Nicole flashed me a happy smile.

  How beautiful she was.

  I couldn’t believe my good fortune. I never thought I’d marry, and yet here I was married to a wonderful woman. Life was certainly strange.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  NICOLE

  By the time the reception was over, Vidar was not the only one with a headache. I could tell he was suffering by the way his eyebrows were slightly furrowed, and he was quieter than normal, which was very quiet.

  I hugged Gran one last time. Apparently, she’d had a great time, drunk too much champagne, and talked about knitting with Vidar’s Grandma Rika. Rika had even let her take a ride in the motorized scooter. I hope someone got some digital footage of that.

  “I love you, sweetie,” Gran said, and she pointed her finger at Vidar. “You better treat her right, young man.”

  Vidar nodded and said seriously that he would do his best to take care of me.

  I glanced over at Stefanie who assured me that she would make certain Gran got back to Houston in one piece.

  Overall, I’d been pleasantly surprised to see how polite Vidar’s family had been to my grandmother. They seemed to have accepted me and my family without reservation. As Uncle Theo said, “We’ve got to get new blood in the Nilsson family, or poor Chloe’s going to inherit it all.”

  Various relatives had offered to take Chloe for a day or two, so we could have a honeymoon, but Vidar had said, “No. It won’t feel like home without her, and we’ll take a real honeymoon later.”

  By later, he meant when all the fuss with DeeDee was over. She was the elephant in the room that no one wanted to talk about. Vidar’s driver took us back downtown to Nilsson Tower. Brooke and Elizabeth took care of Chloe throughout the day, but now they had both been sent home, so it was just the three of us. I unfastened a sleeping Chloe from her car seat and carried her upstairs to the elevator.

  I watched Vidar as he keyed in the access codes and used his own fingerprint to unlock the doors to his – correction, our – apartment.

  “I would carry you over the threshold Mrs. Nilsson, but I don’t want to wake Chloe.”

  Mrs. Nilsson. It still didn’t seem real to me. I said, “That’s okay.” Being carried over the threshold was a barbaric custom anyway; either it was an attempt to avoid evil spirits or a symbol of a bride being carried into a marriage against her will.

  Vidar followed me inside and I carried Chloe to the nursery. Within a few minutes, she was settled in her own crib. I turned on a machine that provided some white noise, so she would sleep soundly.

  I then walked back to the master bedroom. Vidar and I had talked earlier about sleeping arrangements. He said he was fine with separate bedrooms, even though the lawyers said that separate bedrooms might undermine our marriage being seen as real. “It’s your choice,” Vidar said.

  I told him I was willing to sleep in the same bed with him. “That way people can assume whatever they want.”

  But now that the sleeping arrangements were more than hypothetical, I wondered if I had been overly confident. I reminded myself that a king-sized bed was the same as two twin beds stuck together. There was ample room for both of us as long as we were polite and respected each other’s boundaries.

  Vidar stood in our bedroom. He had removed his tuxedo jacket and bow tie. He was removing his cufflinks as I stepped in.

  I drew my breath in sharply. He was one handsome man, no doubt about it.

  “Do you need help with your dress?” he asked.

  “Probably not,” I said lightly. “But if I get in a jam, I’ll let you know.” I walked into the large closet to change without him watching me.

  It was strange to stand there, looking at my clothes on one side of the closet and his on the other, when for nearly a year, I’d vacuumed this closet.

  I was Mrs. Nilsson now and I had the rings to prove it. I looked at the rings on my left hand – a simple gold wedding band and a two-carat diamond ring. Even though I was marrying a billionaire, I was still practical. I had made certain that the center stone was not set high on the band. I didn’t want to snag my clothes as I was getting dressed.

  It took me a few minutes to wiggle out of my dress and into more comfortable clothes – jeans, camisole, and a gauzy short sleeved shirt, left open. I decided against shoes. Start as you intend to go on, I told myself.

  Vidar and I had agreed to be friends, so that’s what we’d be – married friends.

  When I came out, I went to the large master bathroom and washed my face, removing all the fancy make-up. I then removed all the bobby pins from my hair and let the curls hang down. They looked a little stiff from the hairspray, but if I tried to brush it, I was afraid it would look like a bush, so I left it alone.

  Vidar changed into gray sweats and a black t-shirt that hugged his athletic build. He looked great, like someone out of a Ralph Lauren ad. Thick hair. Chiseled jawline. Broad shoulders. My fingers itched to brush his longish hair off his forehead. He asked, “So, what do you want to do now?”

  I clenched my fingers into fists and unclenched them. “I don’t know.” Liar, Liar, Pants on fire, I thought. I wanted to kiss him, but I didn’t think that was wise.

  I was tired, and he’d drunk some champagne, and we’d both spent the evening dancing and or standing next to each other, often holding hands. Friends and family had teased us good-naturedly about our honeymoon and made references to wedded bliss, meaning sex. Naturally, the thought of sleeping with Vidar had crossed my mind, and from some of his side glances at me, I thought it might have crossed his as well. But I didn’t want to give him the impression that I was willing to do more than kiss tonight.

  As much as I might enjoy sleeping with him, I was going to be careful. I thought it best not to take that step until the custody battle was over. Because if Vidar lost custody of Chloe, I was afraid he wouldn’t want me or our friendly marriage of convenience anymore, and I didn’t think I could handle the rejection.

  I was already half in love with the man.

  I didn’t want to have my heart broken, if I could avoid it.

  He said, “It’s already after midnight, but I’m not tired. Are you?”

  “Not really.”

  “Do you want to watch a movie?” he offered.

  “Sure.”

  We were on the couch, debating between two different movies when Chloe started crying. I looked at Vidar and he looked at me. “My turn,” he said and hopped up to take care of her.

  From what I could hear, she seemed difficult to settle. This cry seemed angrier than her usu
al fussy cry.

  Fifteen minutes later, he brought her into the living room, bouncing her slightly in his arms. Her face was red and tear stained. He said, “I changed her and gave her a bottle, which she didn’t want. Do you think she’s hot? Do you think she has a fever?”

  I touched her forehead with my fingertips. “Maybe?”

  I found a skin sensor thermometer in the bathroom and together we took her temperature. Ninety-nine point one degrees.

  “That’s hardly a fever,” Vidar said.

  “You’re right.” I noticed that Chloe pulled her ear. “Maybe she has an ear infection.” I held Chloe and tried to comfort her while Vidar researched treatment for ear infections on his phone.

  He said, “We can take her to a doctor tomorrow. Experts are divided on whether children should get antibiotics for ear infections.”

  I said, “When I was little and had ear pain, Gran dripped hot olive oil into my ear and then put a cotton ball in to hold the oil in.”

  Vidar frowned. “I’m not doing that.”

  “I’m not saying we have to. I’m just telling you one of Gran’s home remedies.”

  Vidar continued to scroll on his phone. “We can try a warm compress.”

  I was glad that he was a hands-on Dad, but I could see that we might disagree sometimes on Chloe’s care. He went to the bathroom and came back with a warm wet washcloth that had been wrung out so it wouldn’t drip on her. I held it to her ear and she fussed, turning her head from side to side.

  At this point, neither one of us knew what to do, so we put her on the floor on a blanket with some of her favorite toys around her. Instead of watching a movie, we’d be watching her. She got up on all fours and rocked back and forth for a while, sometimes crying.

  “She’s going to be crawling soon,” Vidar said.

  Chloe played for a few more minutes, fussed some more, and then lay down on the blanket and closed her eyes. I pointed to the nursery and rested my head on my hands to indicate ‘sleeping.’ Vidar carried her gently back to her crib. When he returned to the living room, he held his hands with both thumbs up. “Success,” he whispered.

  “Finally,” I said. At this point, I was too tired to think about anything except going to bed myself and I didn’t care where my new husband slept. I might be a new bride, but I felt like a tired old Mom. Chloe had worn me out. “Good night,” I said. I yawned and rubbed my eyes wearily. “I’m going to bed.”

  “I’ll join you in a few minutes,” he said.

  I wondered if he was giving me time to change in privacy, but I was so exhausted, I didn’t care. “Great. Thanks. Good night.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  NICOLE

  When I finally woke, Vidar was gone, and I couldn’t remember our sharing a bed at all. I amused myself by thinking that it had been a pretty boring honeymoon night, but I had no complaints.

  I made my way to the master bath and found a yellow sticky note on the mirror:

  GOOD MORNING, MRS. NILSSON

  I smiled. I really appreciated the ALL CAPS notes from Vidar. They always made my day better. I brushed my teeth, pulled my hair back, got dressed and came to the kitchen to see Chloe sitting in a high chair with Vidar feeding her. He’d come a long way since that exploding diaper day. He looked completely competent as he calmly fed her rice cereal and some green pureed vegetable. Chloe was in a good mood and smiled at me – a sweet smile with four tiny baby teeth.

  I sat at the table with him while I ate my yogurt.

  “Is that all you’re having?” he asked.

  “That’s it.” I said cheerfully. I knew that on the days Mrs. Perez didn’t cook, she left meals in the refrigerator for Vidar to warm up. Now that I was here, there would be meals for me, too.

  It was amazing to me how much my life had changed.

  Vidar said, “What are you thinking about?”

  “Now that the wedding is over, I’m wrapping my mind around the fact that I can do whatever I want. I don’t have any real obligations.”

  By saying “I do” I had instantly become a multi-millionaire. I had gladly signed the pre-nuptial agreement that kept all the Nilsson companies and trusts within Vidar’s control, but no matter what happened now, I would never have to worry about money again.

  He said, “That’s one of the most difficult aspects of being wealthy.”

  “Boredom?”

  “Finding a purpose.”

  I said, “At least you’ve got Nilsson Technologies.”

  “And you have school, right?”

  I nodded. “It will start back up in the Fall, and if I wanted, I could go full-time, but I don’t think I want to go full time, not yet. I’d like to spend time with you and Chloe and figure out this next stage of my life.”

  Vidar scraped the last bite of green goo out of the baby food jar with a tiny spoon, so he could feed it to Chloe. He said, “If you have a philanthropic bent, you could talk with Selinda and see how she handles it.”

  That was another amazing thing about marrying Vidar. I had a new family now with cousins. My old family – Gran’s brothers and distant cousins had never paid much attention to me. I said, “Do you ever want to promote a cause, like helping people with Autism?”

  I must have said the wrong thing, for he suddenly frowned and seemed to shut down. After a moment, he said tightly, “I give some money to various organizations anonymously. I don’t want to become the poster child for Autism. I’d rather forget it, actually.”

  “Sorry to bring it up.”

  “No,” he said quickly. “It’s my reality, but I wish I didn’t have to second guess myself all the time. I don’t naturally pick up all the social cues. I’m always wondering if I look weird or sound weird.”

  “You don’t look weird,” I said.

  He looked at me directly and raised one eyebrow inquiringly.

  Very Spock-ish.

  “Okay,” I admitted. “Sometimes you’re a little weird, but aren’t we all?”

  At this, he smiled and relaxed. He reached over and kissed me briefly. “Have I ever told you how much I like you?”

  “Not today,” I said primly, which earned me another kiss.

  I smiled. Vidar and I were friends, but I could see that marriage was still a tricky business.

  VIDAR

  OVER THE NEXT FEW WEEKS, Nicole and I settled into a good routine. We often left each other notes on the bathroom mirror if no one else was home or in our sock drawers when staff was around. We slept in the same king-sized bed which was a mixed blessing. I had promised that I would not pressure her to have sex until she was ready, and so far, we had shared no more than kisses. I enjoyed having her near me, but occasionally the situation was awkward. Nicole was very circumspect when she was awake, but when she was asleep, she liked to snuggle. More than once, I woke to find myself entangled with her. I tried to treat the situation with humor, but even that could be challenging.

  Out of respect for her, I now slept in shorts and a t-shirt rather than just in my boxers. Nicole tended to wear silky long-sleeved pajamas. No doubt she thought they were modest, but they had a habit of slipping off her shoulders or riding up to bare her midriff while she was sleeping.

  It was a wonder I could sleep at all.

  One morning I woke to find Nicole wrapped around me with her head on my chest and her hand behind my neck. I tried to slide myself out of her embrace, but my movements woke her, and she looked at me with her bright blue eyes.

  “Oh, sorry,” she said sleepily as she realized the position we were in. She scurried over to her side of the bed again. “Was I bothering you?”

  “Not at all,” I said huskily, wishing that she would bother me more often. But I was determined to keep my word. I would be a gentleman even if it killed me.

  “In my dream, I was kissing you,” she said with a little frown between her brows. “Was I kissing you for real just now, or was that only a dream?”

  Nicole probably didn’t want to know what we were doing
in some of my dreams. I said, “No, you weren’t kissing me. I would have remembered that.”

  She sighed. “Good.”

  “You don’t want to kiss me?” I teased.

  “No, I like kissing you,” she said. “But I want to be awake when I’m doing it. And I don’t want to give you mixed messages.”

  As much as I wanted to change our situation, I appreciated her honesty. “Don’t worry. I’m getting your message loud and clear.”

  She smiled. “And what message is that?”

  I reached over and touched her lips with my fingertips. “Kisses only?”

  She nodded, her eyes wide. “For now.”

  I groaned and rolled out of bed. “Then I guess it’s time for another cold shower.”

  She said, “I’m sorry. Do you want me to sleep in the other room?”

  “No,” I said. I leaned over the bed to kiss her lips briefly. “Because when you do change your mind, I want to be right beside you.”

  She smiled. “Have I ever told you how much I like you?”

  “Not today,” I teased and would have gotten another kiss, but she held up her hand to stop me. “Careful,” she said. “Or we’ll both need cold showers.”

  “The shower is big enough for two,” I said, and she responded by throwing a pillow at me.

  I considered that progress.

  During the daytime, I spent most of my time strategizing with the lawyers for the custody battle and organizing moving Nilsson Technologies to Dallas. I didn’t want to settle the company downtown at Nilsson Tower, but I didn’t know if I wanted to move it to Coppell where Nilsson Worldwide was located, or if I wanted to try Plano. I loved my Uncle Theo and my cousin Philip who was his right-hand man, but I didn’t know if I wanted them as immediate neighbors. Basically, I wanted a location with less traffic and sufficient infrastructure that wasn’t too far from the DFW airport.

  While I was doing this, Nicole decorated our new house. After reviewing her choices, we decided to go with a house on Swiss Avenue, a few houses down from Rick Boudreaux. It was six thousand square feet, a four-bedroom, brick home built in 1924 and recently renovated. It was a good deal at three million, so I bought it and she would decide new colors, furnishings, etc. Until it was finished, we would all live in Nilsson Tower. And later, if we wanted another house closer to my ultimate office, we’d buy one there, too.