Married to the Secret Billionaire

by Wylder, Penny

  We both pick at our salad course, until I pick up my glass of white wine and take a long swig for courage. “Okay, first secret first. My name isn’t Ankor.”

  Sinclair’s jaw actually drops. I don’t know what she expected me to reveal, but it probably wasn’t anything of this magnitude.

  She has no idea. I’m only just getting started. To her credit, she doesn’t interrupt. But she does pick up her glass of wine, too, and drain more than a dainty sip as she watches me, waiting for the rest.

  Here goes nothing. Once I tell her this, she could ruin the whole setup I have here. This is everything I swore I wouldn’t risk. Everything I promised myself I was coming here to avoid. But like I told her in the pool—what I feel for her, I’ve never felt for anyone. This is special. And I’m not going to risk losing her just because I’m afraid what opening up will do.

  If she takes this information and runs, so be it. If not? Well… If not, then maybe this really can be something.

  “My real name is Marco Helmtree.”

  Sinclair watches me for a second. But I see the moment when the words land. When recognition hits. Her eyebrows shoot upright, and she straightens in her chair. “Wait. Marco Helmtree? Like… of Helmtree Industries?” Her gaze searches my face, as if seeking clues she should have picked up on.

  I can’t help it. I grin a little, wryly. Well, if I’d ever had any doubt that she secretly knew who I really was and was just playing along, it’s assuaged now. “One and the same,” I say.

  “But your company is one of the largest tech companies in the world,” she says. “Aren’t you some kind of billionaire genius?” Her brow furrows. “Why in the world are you teaching swimming lessons at a resort?”

  I hold up a hand. “Do you want the story, or not?”

  With an effort, she clamps her mouth shut and mimes zipping it, then throwing away the key. But she sits back in her chair with her wine glass and proceeds to take more than a few sips, as I continue talking.

  “I needed a break,” I say. “I haven’t taken a single day off work since I founded the company out of my parents’ garage at 18. As you probably know, I never even bothered with college. It was just, work work work, from the moment I got my first idea. And don’t get me wrong, I love what I do. But it was consuming my whole life. And my relationships, well…” I shake my head. “I’ve had a whole string of them, each one worse than the last, women just after me for my money. But it was my most recent ex who really takes the prize. You probably saw the smear campaigns she put out in the media last summer. I couldn’t even leave my house without swarms of reporters asking me if even half of what she claimed was true—that I cheated on her with her sister, that I used company funds to buy drugs and throw wild parties.”

  Sinclair winces, but I can tell from her expression that she heard the same rumors.

  “None of it was true, not that the press much cares. They love a good story, no matter how full of bullshit.” I sigh. “Anyway, between that and all the stress of launching our latest product , I needed to get away. And my next-in-command, Hannah Danver, she’d more than proven herself capable of being the CEO. So, I stepped down, and I put out false reports that I’d be spending a year at a fancy ski resort in Switzerland.” I shrug, offering a wry smile. “And then I came here instead.”

  I pat the arm of the chair I’m sitting on, and glance fondly over my shoulder at the rest of the resort.

  “I own this hotel chain. This resort in particular is one of our worst-performing properties. Based on the usual clientele, I figured I’d have the least chance of being recognized here. Besides, who would guess that the swim instructor at a failing resort was actually some billionaire?”

  I smile. Sinclair doesn’t. But she’s not running away, either, and I guess that’s a start.

  She leans forward in her chair and sets her wine glass on the table. “I heard about that. Your ex, all those rumors.” Sinclair grimaces. “I’m sorry. That really must have been terrible.”

  “Well, better to find out who she really was and get free of her. But I wish I hadn’t been so blind to fall for her in the first place.”

  Sinclair presses her lips flat, then. Something about her expression tells me she has some experience in that area.

  The seconds tick by. I reach for my wine glass and take a sip, my throat parched after all the confessing. “Well?” I murmur, after a moment has passed. “Say something.”

  She shakes her head, slowly, and my heart begins to sink. “Ankor—er…” She catches herself.

  “Ankor is my middle name,” I explain softly.

  She nods. “Marco. Thank you for telling me all that. Really. You don’t know how much I appreciate you trusting me.” She reaches across the table, and I catch her hand, twining my fingers between her soft, smooth ones. She bites her lower lip, and I brace myself for what’s coming. “But that wasn’t the problem.”

  I frown. “What do you mean?”

  She pulls away from me. All I want to do is make her stay. “The problem was never your secrets,” she says. “The problem is mine. And mine are…” She shakes her head, tears springing to her eyes. “I can’t do the same, Marco. I can’t tell you what I’m hiding. Not now, maybe not ever. So I don’t know how…” A tear starts to fall, and she brushes it from her cheek. “I don’t know how this will work.”

  “Sinclair.” I wait for her to look at me, and then I smile, gently. “I don’t care.”

  She blinks, confused. “What?”

  “I don’t care that you have secrets. Everybody has a past, Sinclair. If you don’t want to ever speak about yours again, that’s fine. It’s in the past, where it can’t hurt us.” I reach for her hand once more, and she lets me take it. Lets me bring her hand to my lips and kiss each finger, one by one. “Keep your mystery if you want,” I murmur.

  “But… you don’t care that I’m keeping secrets from you?” She tilts her head, bewildered, as if she’s never considered this possibility.

  Gently, I tug on her arm, drawing her forward across the table. I lean in and kiss her softly, my lips lingering, my fingers tracing the edge of her jawline. “Whatever you’re keeping to yourself doesn’t concern me. Sinclair, you’ve already shown me more of your inner mind, your heart and your desires, than most people ever allow. I already have all the parts of you I want.”

  For a long breath, she doesn’t move. She just stares into my eyes, those baby blues of hers so wide I can almost see myself in the reflection. And then she breaks out into the kind of smile that takes my breath away, and kisses me again, harder. “So if you own this place…” She glances down at the table. “Can we just put this bill on your tab?”

  I laugh. “They’ll bill it to my room, yes.”

  Her smile widens. “Good.” She stands and yanks me to my feet, plenty willingly. “Because I need to see you in my room, Mr. Helmtree. Right now.”

  * * *

  Sinclair’s room is one of the smaller suites. Just a bed and a single breakfast table on a patio overlooking the sea. She doesn’t seem to mind. She flings open the door and I slam it behind us, pinning her against it as I kiss her, inhaling her like I drug I’ve been craving for weeks.

  Because she is.

  Her lips part beneath mine, and I slide my hands up her curves, pulling her top off. I let it fall beside us, and she does the same to my shirt, drawing it up and off my head.

  We take our time.

  I kiss my way over every inch of her body, with her pinned against the door. Then she surprises me, pulling me toward the bed and pushing me down onto it so she can climb on top of me and return the favor. The feeling of her lithe, soft body lying on top of mine, and her soft, hot lips exploring my abs, my groin, along the waist of my jeans, it’s almost more than I can bear. When her hand finally grazes the hard bulge in my pants, I stop her, catching her wrists with one hand while I unbuckle my jeans with the other.

  I push them off, and my cock springs free, hard and at attention. She immediately
wraps her hands around the base, like she’s been craving this as much as I have. And when she lowers her head to run her tongue slowly from the base, all the way along the shaft to the tip, I have to inhale sharply just to control myself.

  “Have you ever done this before?” I ask her softly.

  She looks up at me with that deadly sweet smile of hers and shakes her head.

  “We’ll go slow,” I promise, and with both hands, I guide her face back down. She’s a fast learner. She licks her way all over my shaft, until it’s glistening wet from the heat of her mouth. Then she plants her lips against my soft tip, and I gently pull her head closer, until my cock parts her lips and slides into her mouth. She moans a little, the sound muffled by my cock, and the vibrations send a hot pulse of desire straight to my dick.

  “That’s it, good girl. Right there…”

  I inhale through gritted teeth as she stops, backs up, and then slides back down my length, her lips clamped tightly around my shaft, adding to the sensation. “God you have the hottest mouth,” I murmur.

  She moans again in agreement, and another rush of pleasure spreads through me. Eventually we find a rhythm, my hands buried in her red, red hair, guiding her up and down as her mouth bobs along my cock.

  “Use your tongue,” I tell her, and she does, pressing it up against the underside of my cock, swirling it around the head every time I pull out of her mouth. It doesn’t take long before the pressure in me builds, right up to an edge.

  But I’m not ready to end things just yet. We’re only just getting started.

  So I stop her, gently, and pull out of her mouth, before I flip her over beneath me on the bed. “Not yet, Sinclair,” I whisper, leaning in to kiss her neck. “We have a long, long day ahead of us…”

  8

  Sinclair

  I come back from a long walk along the beach—while Ankor (I can never get used to calling him Marco, and he insists it’s better if we stick to Ankor for anonymity’s sake anyway) was teaching an afternoon session of swimming classes to some of the new older resort visitors, who just moved in this week—to find a box on my bed, a bow around it, and a note tied to it.

  I suppress a smile as I read the note. This looked almost as beautiful as you in the shop. I couldn’t resist. Why don’t you try it on and meet me in the lobby at 7?

  Knowing Ankor, this means another one of his surprise dates. We’ve gone on more than our fair share over the past two weeks—long past the day I promised myself I’d check out of the hotel. I’d be worried about my budget, except that when I went to the front desk to try to settle my bill, the clerk told me my stay had already been paid in full and extended for another month.

  I was annoyed at Ankor for a day. Until he pointed out that he was only really paying himself anyway, since this was his resort chain.

  “Besides,” he’d whispered, in between kissing his way down my neck as we curled up in the enormous king bed of his suite. “Any excuse to keep you here longer, I’m going to take.”

  I’d laughed. But the words had sent a thrill through my veins at the same time. Because I felt the same way about him. I kept waiting for a red flag, kept expecting the other shoe to drop. But it never did. Every day with Ankor felt better than the last. And the more time I spent with him, the more I realized I’d never be able to get enough.

  It should make me nervous. And it does, sometimes, late at night when I lie in his bed or mine, wide away and listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing. I worry about how long this can possibly last. About what will happen when it all comes crashing down around me.

  But more often than not, I forget. About the past, about my fears. I’m just here, in paradise, with him. And that’s all I need, for now.

  Still smiling, I tug on the ribbon, open the box and peel back layers of paper to find a dress buried inside. The sight makes me gasp. I’ve never owned anything this beautiful. I can tell just from one glance that it’s from the kinds of stores I always window-shopped at with glee but could never even afford to set foot inside.

  Carefully, I lift it and hold it up before the mirror. It’s silk, pillow-soft to the touch. It’s got a complicated series of straps over the shoulders, flowing down to a loose-fitted waist and a flared skirt. The whole thing is a deep emerald green, which I already know will look amazing against my red hair.

  I smile. Ankor has a good eye. Good taste.

  Good a lot of things, really. A little shiver traces down my spine as I remember how we spent last night. He has a balcony in his room, looking out over the sea. Late at night, after we returned from a night swim in the pool, he carried me out there. I held onto the railing as he peeled off my swimsuit, promising me that nobody else in the hotel would be out this late, it was just us out here.

  Still, it felt so forbidden to be naked like that, somewhere so public, the warm night air caressing my bare skin at the same time that Ankor did. He ran his hands all over me, held me against him as he stroked his fingers down, down, between my legs and along my slit until he had to reach his other hand up to muffle my moans as he made me come. Over, and over…

  Still shivering with pleasure, I hug the dress to my chest for a second, and then go about changing. It’s already six, which means I only have an hour to make myself presentable. And to judge by the style of this outfit, Ankor has something fancier in mind than our usual dates.

  So far, we’ve mostly confined ourselves to exploring distant parts of the island. Going on hikes into beautiful remote jungle areas, climbing up mountain peaks to take in the sight of the whole island. Or going back to our now-favorite beach, which more often than not is empty enough that we can recreate our first hookup there.

  It’s starting to feel like a real relationship. We have our spots, our traditions, our firsts. Our favorites.

  I shower, the smile never leaving my face, and put on my makeup and the dress just in time to meet Ankor in the lobby right on schedule. As usual, the second he sees me, his eyes light up and it’s all he can do to keep his hands from wandering too far as he wraps his arms around me and kisses me.

  “Gorgeous as ever,” he whispers against my lips.

  “You clean up pretty well yourself,” I reply, tugging on the lapel of the suit he’s wearing. I’ve never seen him this dressed up. I have to admit, the suit is doing wonders for him. And making me wonder if we might better spend our evening heading back upstairs for a while…

  But he’s already leading me out the door, his hand wrapped tight around mine. On our way past, we both wave to Mrs. Jenkins, who’s sitting outside reading a book.

  “Have fun, kids,” she says, with a twinkle in her eye that tells us both she knows exactly how close we’ve been getting over the past few weeks. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” she adds. “Which leaves you plenty of options, believe me.”

  We laugh as Ankor opens the passenger door of his car and I climb in. “She’s a riot,” I say as he takes the wheel.

  “My favorite,” he replies, and there’s a humorous glint in his eyes as he waves to her in the rearview mirror.

  I don’t recognize the road we take. It’s a different direction than we normally go, toward town rather than away from it. Then again, I’m pretty distracted by the feeling of Ankor’s hand on my knee, warm and reassuring all at once.

  “So, any hints about tonight’s destination?” I reach down to take his hand.

  His fingers interlace through mine. “That would ruin the surprise. Let’s just say, it’s a special occasion.”

  “Oh, really?” I cast a sideways glance at him, amused.

  “It’s about time I took you out properly,” he replies.

  I laugh and roll my eyes. “You take me out all the time.”

  “Not really. Not the way I would if we were back in the real world, in my old life.”

  His words make me frown a little, worried. I side-eye him. It’s the first time, since our confession night, when he told me who he really was, that I’ve heard him mention his
past. The old him. It makes me wonder why he’s bringing it up now. “You’re the one who’s always telling me to live in the present. Not to let my past define me.”

  “And it shouldn’t,” he’s quick to agree. “But I want to treat you right, Sinclair. I want to show you how much you mean to me.”

  “I don’t need fancy dates to know that,” I protest.

  It makes him smile. “Which is what I love about you.” He squeezes my hand and leans over just far enough to kiss my cheek without taking his gaze from the road. “But that’s exactly why I want to take you out and spoil you. Because you deserve it so much more than anyone I’ve ever met.”

  Than his gold-digger exes, he means. I feel a pang of sympathy. After all, I can’t imagine what that must have been like for him. Always being used, starting to trust people and then finding out they only valued him for what they could get out of him.

  I don’t want to be like those girls. Ever. And I want to be here for him now. To show him that what I feel is real.

  So I force a pang of worry out of my mind. We’ll be fine. Ankor’s been so careful about hiding his real identity. I’ve done the same. We’re a million miles from our pasts. It won’t catch up to us just for having one night of fun.

  He takes us into Kahului, the biggest city on the island, right near the waterfront. There’s a famous restaurant there, world-renowned, and the moment we pull up out front, a valet steps out to take care of the car, while another leads us to our private tasting room. I side-eye Ankor.

  “What?” He grins. “I promised you spoiling.”

  I roll my eyes, and he takes my hand as we enter. The restaurant itself is beautiful and modern, with a series of huge windows overlooking the water. The waiter leads us up to the rooftop, where there’s a private area, separated from the rest of the restaurant by a series of sculpted plants. It looks like we’re in our own jungle, overlooking the lights of Kahului in one direction and the shine of the rising full moon over the ocean in the other.