Accidentally Married to the Billionaire 1(14)
“Good thinking. Anything else?”
“Yeah, give your phone to the clerk and kiss me. We’ll need a picture.”
Marj slid the dazzling ring on her finger and held it out as if to admire it as he kissed her. Unfortunately, when he covered her lips in a slow and tender kiss, she totally forgot she was supposed to be posing. In fact, she forgot where she was, what her name might be, and anything else relevant except for some sort of primal response of the ‘me woman, you man’ variety. Passion flamed between them like a roaring forest fire. His mouth was hot and he consumed her. Her bones seemed to melt at his touch, her mouth opening at the onslaught of his tongue. He did clever, wicked things with that tongue until she made a noise, an actual audible noise of the very tackiest kind in an upscale jeweler’s shop in Nevada.
The sound of her own moan made her pull back in embarrassment. She knew she looked disheveled now, her face flushed, her lips bruised, her hair rumpled from his hands. Those hands—the telltale thick-wristed strong hands—had tangled in her long auburn hair, as if he, too, were oblivious to their surroundings. Instead of a posed photo for Instagram followers, the picture on the phone looked more like they were ready to do it up against the glass counter. Which, maybe was better for convincing PR than her planned snap would have been.
“You put on quite a show, Cates,” she said.
“Show’s over. It’s time for wedding bells.”
“I bet the bells are extra. We just need a bare-bones ceremony. I do. You do. We get the officiant to sign and bingo, you’re the unquestioned heir to Power Regions, Ltd.”
“If only it were that simple. We’ll have months of legal wrangling to establish the legitimacy of our marriage and to prove that it’s a match of affection, not convenience. Think you could pretend to like me for eight million dollars?”
“I could pretend to like you for this ring. Do I get to keep it?”
“Yes. I mean, I don’t want it. What am I going to do with a woman’s wedding band when this is all over?”
“Should we maybe not talk about this in front of your driver?”
“Soundproof partition,” he explained.
“Ah. But as a rule, we’re not telling people, right?”
“Right. Keep it between us.”
“Ooh, I was just thinking, if I, like, commit some heinous crime, you don’t have to testify against me! I could totally kill someone, tell you all about it and I’m safe!”
“If you’re committing heinous murders I wouldn’t characterize you as safe. Is that part of your plan?”
“No, I’m just thinking out loud. There are perks to this. I mean, my taxes will be less if I’m filing jointly I think.”
“Your taxes will reflect my income as well. However, we have several offshore accounts so you should be fine. Don’t worry about taxes. It’s hardly a wedding night topic.”
“Okay, speaking of wedding night, your room or mine?”
“Mine. It’s the better room, trust me. You’re in whatever block of rooms the firm got at a rack rate. I’m in a suite.”
“Well la di da, Mr. Fancy Pants,” she laughed.
“I’m going to ask in all seriousness that you never call me that again.”
“Fine. What should I call you?”
“Some permutation of my names would be preferable. You may choose whichever you like. Do you prefer Marj or Marjorie?”
“Marj.”
“What’s your middle name?”
“Iris.”
“Like the beautiful, purple flower? It’s lovely.”
“Thank you. My brother’s named Mordecai. He always said I got the better name. I think I might have to agree.”
“Mordecai. Really?”
“Really.”
“When will I meet him? I presume we’ll invite your family to dinner or the like once we’re settled in Manhattan.”
“He won’t be joining us.”
“Why?”
“He doesn’t come to stuff like that,” she said uncomfortably.
“Ah, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to touch on a sore point. Forgive me.”
“No matter. How about you? Any family besides the Wicked Queen?”
“No. I’m an only child. So we’ll have your parents and my stepmother, and that should be a lovely dinner. We should have wine. A great deal of it, in fact.”
“Or not.”
“Why?”
“My mother has a drinking problem.”
“Recovering alcoholic? Ah, happens to a lot of good people.”
“Not recovering. Just a drunk, Cates. But that’s another something I’d rather not discuss.”