Accidentally Married to the Billionaire 3(36)

He laughed. “What?”

“You heard me. Your company? Your dad’s legacy? Total soul-sucking nightmare bitch from hell. It takes more of your time, your heart, and soul than I’ll ever have.”

“You cannot listen to Lena. She’s melodramatic. Always has been. I’d hate to see that rub off on you.”

“I’d hate to see you get all patronizing, but I just did. I think I mentioned once that Power Regions was such a phallic name. But I’m thinking now it’s more of a dominatrix, a stern mistress who won’t let you go.”

“Ha, ha.”

“Ah, condescension, my old friend,” she said acidly, “but the truth is you can’t resist beating your head against a wall, like this pointless Dubai excursion, to try and prove to the board that you’re at least twice the man your father was. And whether you are or you’re not, this will take our marriage down. And any other relationship you have that’s any more serious than the one with your dry cleaner.”

“You’re just full of wisdom today. Maybe get some sleep, get in a better mood, I’ll call you later.”

“I don’t have an appointment, so you’ll forgive me if I don’t hold my breath waiting for you to call me.”

“If I say I’ll call, I always call. Don’t act like I’m unreliable. I’m out here working to build a better life for us and—”

“Save the martyr routine, babe. You have money, plenty of it. The company’s already huge. You’re trying to prove yourself to someone, maybe the ghost of your disapproving father. I don’t know, but it sure as hell isn’t something you’re doing for my benefit.”

“I work. I have a job. I’m not going to apologize for it.”

“I’m going to find someplace to volunteer. I expect to hear tonight which days we’ll be scheduling lunch and supper each week. I want a standing date. None of this Tuesday one week, Thursday the next. We can set a time and both work around it.”

“You’re not being reasonable.”

“You’re trying to weasel out of spending time with me. Just set it up. You make time to get your hair cut. You make time to eat and work out. Make this part of your routine. Nonnegotiable.”

“Are you sure you were in marketing and not legal?”

“Positive.”

He grinned as she smiled. They said goodbye and she hung up, her screen freezing on an image of his handsome face.





Chapter 12




Brandon Cates looked out his hotel window at the cobalt, blue water. The marriage was already too much trouble. He was halfway around the world and couldn’t shake the effects of being hitched to someone like Marjorie. She had a way of infiltrating everything he did and every thought he had. He’d chosen a bottle of water from the honor bar, a tubular green bottle that he immediately remembered Marj liking. He put it back and got a bottle of Evian instead. Nice, neutral clear bottle with the Alps on it, nothing phallic at all. He’d already ordered a café mocha with his breakfast…when he didn’t like coffee or chocolate. Just because the smell reminded him of her. It was infuriating.

It seemed like every hour either the publicist or the legal team alerted him to some fresh hell. Celebrity bloggers and gossip magazines had latched on to Marj after the article was released and now gigabytes of negative press were piling up. If it were the old days, there would have been reams of extra edition newspapers devoted to trashing his wife. As it was, his team was scrambling to compile defamation suits while countering false claims with meticulously sanitized facts and demanding that unflattering statements be taken down under threat of litigation. A Google search for Marj Cates weight returned over thirteen thousand hits already. Marj was in fabulous shape and even if she weren’t, her weight shouldn’t be the subject of such rampant speculation.

There were three times that many hits on the search term Marj Cates slut. He knew because he’d typed it in at the prompting of his disgusted publicist. Already photos were surfacing from past relationships, from office parties and bachelorette parties and other events where his wife was wearing low cut dresses and holding alcoholic beverages and invariably sitting on some guy’s lap. Usually an older guy, probably a boss.

She was being tried in the court of public opinion, and it was taking all his resources and more than all of his patience to keep her from knowing the half of it. Because she was being eviscerated. Everything from her chosen form of birth control (photos of her ob/gyn records were visible on TMZ and showed the date her IUD was inserted and which manufacturer made the damn thing) to her shoe size (word on the street was she wore an 8 which was evidently considered big) was scrutinized and commented upon. He wanted to hide her, take her to some remote island with no Wi-Fi until the next scandal broke and they were old news.