The Billionaire Bargain: Untamable Billionaire Series, #3

Chapter 1

Luke

LUKE STAYED AT WORK until late, only going home to sleep. He got up early to head into work and hopefully avoid his wife. He hated himself for succumbing to temptation again, for making love to her like that, for finding himself unable to deal with it. He should never have touched her. It would have been better than hurting her like this. He went to his closet, still half asleep. He’d just throw on a shirt and suit out of the dry cleaner’s bag and be on his way. She couldn’t be awake yet.

He flipped on the light and looked around. It was like he’d walked into an Easter egg. All around him were pastel polo shirts, sharply pressed chinos. The few button downs hanging in his closet were mint green plaid with hints of pink. He rubbed his eyes, tried to remember if he’d been drinking last night, which he hadn’t.

His ties, thousands of dollars’ worth of Hermes silk ties from Paris, were gone. His Italian suits of the lightest wool and cashmere. His Prada shoes were gone. Replaced with pale Sperry Top Siders in every color and pattern. There were shorts, pale blue ones and yellow ones, hanging alongside the chinos. There was one tie. It had hearts on it. Not subtle heart patterns, but big drugstore-Valentine-present hearts. He looked under the racks, on the shelves, everywhere. His own clothes were gone. Replaced by the wardrobe of a pastel-loving retired golfer.

He stalked into her bedroom and flicked on the lights, furious. What the hell did you do with my clothes?

She mumbled and rubbed her eyes, sitting up in bed, What?

My suits. My shirts. My shoes. Where are they?

Oh, those? I donated them to the homeless shelter. Somewhere there’s a needy man with a 30 x 34 who’s very well dressed for his future now. It’ll change his life. And it was time you stopped looking like you’re on the prowl for supermodels. Have a more family-friendly wardrobe, let everyone know you’re settled down for life. I thought you’d be pleased I took care of everything.

Pleased? I can’t go to work dressed like that. It’s ridiculous!

It’s wholesome. Fatherly even. We want your conservative stockholders to know you’re serious about starting a family with your sweet little wife. If you dress like the cover of GQ, it’s obvious you’re more into man-scaping and the hottest clubs in town. One look at you in the latest from Ralph Lauren Polo’s resort line and anyone can see that you’re a married man with good, strong priorities. That you’re responsible and sophisticated at the same time.

Look, I like Ralph Lauren suits. Wear them all the time. But not pastel polos. They’re not me; they don’t fit my lifestyle. I want my clothes back. Now.

I wouldn’t think you’d want the PR nightmare of stomping over to the homeless shelter on 11th and Park in your boxers to take back clothes that were donated. It looks—selfish and a little crazy, she said with a twinkle of amusement in her eyes.

You are not to meddle with my clothing or other possessions. If you want to redecorate the ocean front house, feel free. Quit your job and go shopping. Work for charities. Stay out of the office and out of my closet and out of my bedroom.

You should stay out of MY office, she said, And it could only improve your playboy image if you dressed a little more appropriately. Just like a new bride wouldn’t walk around in a bandage dress and stilettos at work, a new husband shouldn’t strut through the office dressed to kill.

I dress professionally.

Yeah, and having those suits tailored to show off your butt? The perfectly fitted ribbed tee under a blazer? Not to mention the gym clothes that are all form fitting, she shook her head, The expensive cologne. Like it or not, all of that sends a message that you’re sexually available. Which you’re not. You’re married. Happily. Faithfully. So it’s time to advertise that with more than just a press release. Dress like a husband and father.

That’s ridiculous.

It’s life, Luke. You have to take responsibility for the choices you make. You and Magnus decided it would further your career to be a stable, dependable family man. So here you go. Dress the part. And turn out the light. I don’t have to get up for another hour and a half, she said.

Paige wasn’t mad. She was calm and pleasant, which was scarier by far. He dressed in some unfortunate chinos and a pastel shirt to go to the office. There, thank goodness, he had an extra suit. He texted his shopper to get him a full wardrobe by that evening. Jeans, tuxedos, everything. Except pastels. There would be no adorable, Crayola style, Easter egg colors left in his closet when he got home. He never wanted to see that pale rainbow inside his house again.

He stopped at Starbucks for a coffee, and when he came out, he found a note on his windshield. It read: Sorry about the dent.

Damn it! He spent the next thirty minutes hunting for the dent and inspecting every single inch of his car. Why would someone leave a note without contact details? Now he was late for work.

He didn’t see anything. Must’ve been a love tap. No biggie.  

At work, once he was safely in a power suit, he glared at the traces she’d left on his walls—the canvases. He’d stuffed the weird box of wedding mementos in a drawer. Because he hated how she was trying to torment him, but he couldn’t bring himself to trash it. No matter how badly he wanted to pretend that none of this had ever happened.

Maybe she’d quit working in his building now. That was the only thing he could hope for. Because as long as she was there, all day long, in a little office where he was sure to find her, he couldn’t think about anything else. He couldn’t focus at all. She drove every other thought out of his brain. Except how he wanted her and how he’d hurt her. How he could never be with her in any real way, not like she deserved.

He worked. He slaved away. He followed his schedule. Yet, he couldn’t maintain the self-discipline necessary to keep away from Paige. She’d infiltrated his thinking, managed to convince him that his priorities, his obligations were nothing compared to her. She hadn’t even tried. It wasn’t as if she had been some manipulative seducer. He had pursued her, wanted her to make a deal with him. If marriage was necessary to his career, he’d wanted to marry someone he liked and enjoyed being with. He hadn’t counted on how far she’d gotten under his skin or how much he could hurt her carelessly, selfishly as a result of the deal they’d made.

She was obviously under stress from the situation. He’d made everything worse. So instead of reacting to her childish prank in anger, he decided to do something considerate instead. To answer immaturity and meanness with kindness and generosity. He rang Gina and asked her to book a spa retreat for his wife and her sister at the resort nearest where Paxtyn was receiving her treatments.

Luke worked on the quarterly report for the upcoming board meeting. When Gina buzzed him to tell him the arrangements were made for the spa trip, he told her to inform Paige herself. He didn’t want any unnecessary contact with his wife. He wanted a few days of peace and quiet for her and for him, too. Time apart would be useful. It might even be enough to convince her that she needed her own space. Namely, the oceanfront mansion where she could stay and amuse herself until the two years had elapsed. Then they’d both be blessedly free of each other and never have to be in the same room again.

No woman in there right mind could ever deny the oceanfront mansion. It was the perfect place to live. He would talk to her about it.

Chapter 2

Luke

WHEN SHE MARCHED INTO his office in what looked like about half of a tight dress, probably to teach him a lesson about dressing provocatively or something, she was obviously angry. So you’re sending me away now? she demanded.

I thought you and Paxtyn deserved some more sister time together. After all you’ve been through, you could use a peaceful getaway. Bonding time, he said.

Yeah. So you can get back to the single life. Did you ask Magnus how it would look, you sending me halfway across the country while you attend the premiere of the new environmental documentary either alone or with some model?

First of all, it would look exactly like what it is. A considerate gesture by a new husband concerned for his wife and her sister. Secondly, I’m hardly likely to have a date to the premiere when you’re out of town. I’ll attend as I’m expected to do, but you can’t imagine I intended to take a mistress in public.

But you’ll have one in private? I see how it is. I’ve served my purpose so now you want me out of the way.

How are you not thanking me for the vacation?

Oh, I don’t know, how about you had sex with me, had some kind of Hamlet breakdown about it, and bought me a damn plane ticket. Then Gina told me how amazing the ocean mansion is, and that it’s a great place to live. What am I supposed to think?

Maybe that I want you to be happy. That I’m tired of upsetting you. That we both could use a break from the drama, from the push and pull, he said, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

She looked upset. The crinkle between her eyebrows, the tightness of her lips—it was obvious that she was unhappy, and he was to blame.

Go see Paxtyn. It’ll make you feel better, he said.

Her face crumpled. She bit her lip. She shook her head, I don’t like this.

Going to see your sister or seeing her suffer? he said.

I don’t like how we are together. That’s what I don’t like. Being married to you.

She was telling the truth, so raw and honest that it almost hurt to look at her. He’d known it, but hearing Paige say the words cut him deeply. She wanted peace. The same thing he wanted. But they couldn’t both have what they needed. Peace for him meant a photogenic marriage in name only and a polite divorce in two years’ time. Peace for her evidently meant a real romantic commitment or an immediate annulment. So there wasn’t enough comfort to go around for them both to have any. He could give her this—time away, politeness. Respect for her situation.

This sucks, she said.

It certainly does, he replied and let her walk away.

Paige was gone for three days. He knew exactly how long she was gone. Not because he received a single text or phone call from her. But because he could feel it. He felt the emptiness of his home. He heard the dead silence when he walked in the door, the knowledge that he wouldn’t see her face, wouldn’t hear her laughing on the phone or have an argument with her later.

There was no Paige waiting for him, planning silly pranks or showing every once in a while how well she knew him and liked him even after all the hell they were putting each other through.

The way she’d held him had stayed with him, almost in his very bones. When he shut his eyes at night, that’s what he felt. Her arms around him, the soft wave of her breath rising and falling with his. A security, a silent union that had bound them. How he had wanted to keep her then, to have her in his arms all night and the next day and all the days after that. That single act of wrapping her arms around him had bewitched him. He couldn’t get free of it even when he sent her several states away to Paxtyn.

He had another thought then, in his empty apartment eating his fish and quinoa. Paige was going to meet someone. Someone who wasn’t him. And she’d fall in love and kiss him and go to bed with him. Someone who’d wipe out the bad memory of her hook up with an ex-husband up against a desk in a cramped office. He felt sick at the thought. How she’d be with someone else, tell the story of her time with Luke as a miserable time. It felt like a betrayal, like losing her. He didn’t want to lose Paige.

The only time he heard from her was a single message saying she’d like to get involved with helping animals. He’d replied, ‘great idea, go for it.’ Maybe she wanted to be part of the zoo’s charity. He’d support that happily. Luke was passionately in favor of any interest of hers that didn’t involve Paige being mad at him or Paige in a tight dress or Paige screwing with his office or his closet. Animal charities would be fabulous.

So when he arrived home that night, he knew she was there. Music played or the TV was on—he heard noise as he opened the door. Then it happened—a huge hairy white dog bounded up to him and jumped on him. Dirty pawprints marred his new suit while the heavy thing leaned on him and barked loudly in his face. He winced, backing away. He didn’t hate dogs exactly. He just didn’t see a reason for them to be in his home. He tried to yell for Paige and ask what the hell was going on, but the dog was so loud there was no hope of being heard.

Luke tried to get the huge sheepdog off of him, but more skittering nails and paws trailed along the floor and joined them, barking joyously and jumping at him, jumping at each other. He counted four dogs. One was a small but mighty Chihuahua that clearly hated him. It dug its teeth into fine merino wool of his trouser leg and held on.

Dammit, Paige! he thundered.

She rushed out to greet him. She was wearing an apron, a pink one, over her clothes. She looked like a cartoon of a wife from the fifties. She bustled over to him. You’re home! Supper is ready. 

What? he demanded, trying to get the dog off his pants leg.

Oh, these are our rescue babies! Aren’t they precious? I was so glad you supported my idea of helping animals more. It’s more of a lifestyle than just a hobby really. These guys are going to be the first of many.

This is not a pet friendly building, he said carefully.

You own it. It’s any kind of building we want it to be! Besides, you’d have to be made of stone not to fall in love with these furry babies! Yes, you would! she crooned as she scooped up the vicious little dog and cradled it in her arms like a baby.

The dogs can’t stay here. You can take them to the beach house and stay with them there. And that’s me being very generous. Because I really don’t want dogs there. But for your sake, I’ll allow it.

Oh, but they don’t want to be away from their daddy! No you don’t! she cooed to the Chihuahua.

He began to wonder if she’d lost her mind completely. Then he heard the ding of what he assumed was the oven. She had cooked? It seemed unlike her, but so did the invasion of fur beasts.

Daddy’s supper is ready, yes, it is! Yes, it is! she squeaked to the dogs, leading the way to the kitchen, Go have a seat in the dining room, my naughty little monkey, she said to him. He growled and went to sit down.

She came back, dog in one arm, his plate in the other hand. On it was a little pile of what looked like green foam.

It’s avocado chickpea salad. I know you’re into healthy eating already, and going vegan just makes sense for us both. It’s cruelty free, which means everything to us, doesn’t it? Doesn’t it, you sweet baby! she said, returning her attention to the dog.

I see. Is there fish?

She sat down across from him, Of course not! Fish is not cruelty free. Neither are eggs, which I know you used to eat from time to time. And the protein powder, well, I had to throw it out. Whey protein? That’s from cow’s milk! Cows have been exploited for our needs long enough, don’t you think?

The creamy green fluff was disgusting. It had some kind of hot spice in it to go with the repulsive texture. He wanted to gag. The ding he had heard was all a ploy. Damn her! This stuff was gross. It was worse than trying to eat the steak with Jack.

I’ve also got rice and turnip soup on for tomorrow’s lunch. I don’t want you having to eat some takeout food in a meeting because you don’t have time to leave. I’ve also signed us up for a meal delivery service that meets our dietary needs. You’ll get lots of protein for your workouts like the two-bean curry, so you don’t have to stress about it. You’ll also be glad to know that all our leather shoes and coats have been donated to charity. I have new vegan-leather ones ordered.

My shoes? he said, thinking he was glad he had one decent pair of leather shoes on his feet. Then he wondered if she was going to try and pry them