Page 4 of The Morally Grey Billionaires Boxset

Isla

I stare, sure I haven’t heard him correctly. "Eh? What are you talking about?" I shake my head as if that might clear it. "If this is some kind of joke—"

"Not a joke." He slides his hand into the pocket of his tailor-made slacks. "There’s no way I’m not going ahead with that wedding. And I do need a bride. Ergo—" He tilts his head as if his words are self-explanatory.

"I’m afraid you’re making no sense."

His lips twist. "Oh, you definitely need to be afraid, but of the repercussions from turning me down.”

I scowl. "This entire conversation is fascinating but as you can see" —I gesture to the computer in front of me— "I have miles to go and promises to keep."

"Quoting Frost won’t change the fact that you’re going to be marrying me in" —he pulls back his coat sleeve, exposing a watch that I have no doubt cost more than the annual rent of my office, and which is nestled amidst a smattering of dark hair on his thick wrist— "exactly seven days."

A shiver of something—excitement, apprehension, nervousness, disbelief... maybe all of the above—ripples under my skin.

"I think you’d better leave."

"I think you’d better start making preparations to make things up to me." Bastard’s grin widens. He’s enjoying himself at my expense, no doubt about it.

Anger bubbles up, and I tamp it down. I can’t afford to lose my temper.

Liam Stick-in-the-mud Kincaid may not be utilizing my services any longer, but he’s one of the most powerful men on this continent—in the world, even—and the last thing I want is to make an enemy of him.

I curl my fingers into fists, draw in a breath, then another.

When I finally speak, my tone is even. "What things? I don’t have anything to make up to you. "

"Oh, but you do. It’s because of you my bride decided to jilt me at the altar—"

"You didn’t reach the altar," I point out.

"Semantics—"

"Are everything." I allow myself a small, tight smile. I’m not going to let this gazillionaire-McGrumpy walk all over me. I have a couple of weddings to plan right after this one. They are nowhere near as high profile as Lila’s but they’ll keep me busy for a while.

All the more reason to get this stuck up wanker out of here.

"Which is why I can’t marry you."

His eyes darken further. "Sure you can."

"I can’t, I’m already married."

He lowers his gaze to my left hand before I have a chance to cover it. Shit, shit, shit.

"So, you’re not only a bad friend, but you’re also a bad liar."

I shoot up to my feet. "I’m not a bad friend. I’m a good friend. The kind who dared to tell Lila exactly what she needed to hear when no one else had the guts to tell her the truth."

"You ruined her life."

"I gave her a chance to live life on her own terms, and I’m not a liar."

He smirks. "You lied that you were married."

"I am married."

"You’re not wearing a ring."

"Plenty of married women don’t wear rings."

His smile grows broader, and it’s not a nice one. My stomach churns. Why do I get the feeling that I’ve walked into a trap?

He leans forward on the balls of his feet. "Isla Bailey, twenty-five, university dropout. Mother and brother live in Lymington. You had a happy childhood… until your father died of a heart attack when you were eighteen. A fact that made you decide to drop out of college and travel the world."

"That’s very presumptuous of you to think one was linked to the other."

"Doesn’t take much to join the dots."

"Go on," I say slowly.

"You tried your hand at being a tie-dye designer—"

"I like colors."

"A diving instructor—"

"I like the colors of fishes underwater." I raise a shoulder.

"A beekeeper."

"I like the color of—"

"Bees?" He smirks.

"I was going to say honey, but yeah, sure, bees, too."

"A professional bridesmaid?" He arches an eyebrow.

"Weddings can be very colorful, you know? Also, you’ll be surprised how lucrative a job it is. Also—" I frown. "How do you know all this?"

"It’s on your bio on your website," he points out.

Of course, it is.

"I also had you investigated."

I gape at him. "You had me investigated?"

"You didn’t think I’d allow you to plan my wedding without making sure your background was acceptable? Which also means, I know you’re not married."

I plant my hands on my hips. "And I intend to stay that way. I’m focused on building my career and my company—"

"And there won’t be much of that left, considering I’ll personally make sure you never work in this country or on this continent—or in fact, organize any wedding anywhere in the world—again."

My heart flips up into my throat, and my pulse begins to race. "You wouldn’t do that."

"Try me." He reaches over, picks up the pencil I was using earlier, then twirls it between his fingers.

I try to focus on the action, but the scene in front of my eyes blurs. I blink away the hot tears that have accumulated in my eyes and set my jaw. "You’re blackmailing me."

He raises his gaze skyward. "Finally, she gets it."

"So, if I don’t marry you, you’ll destroy my career and my reputation?"

He lowers the pencil to the table. "You’ll pose as my wife. Put up a united front with me to my family. Convince them and my friends how much you love me. Also, you need to produce an heir—"

What the—? I shake my head. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold on. Back up. What do you mean, 'an heir’?" I make air quotes with my fingers.

"I need to be married and have a child before I can get ownership of my business."

"You talk like this is a stipulation of some kind..."

He shuffles his feet. For the first time since he prowled into my office, he seems less than confident. In fact, he looks downright pissed. "My father’s will says, unless I marry and produce an heir by the time I’m forty, I won't inherit my company or get access to my trust fund."

"I see." I lean back in my seat. "So, this is why you proposed to Lila and hustled her into marrying you."

"If by that you mean I courted her—"

"You used your charisma to unduly influence her."

"—I wooed her, took her on dates, to dinners, even the blasted opera, then bought her the biggest engagement ring I could lay my hands on."

"You mean that tasteless hunk of stone on her finger?" I cover my mouth and cough. "No wonder it was so easy to convince her to walk away from you."

His jaw tics. A nerve pops at his temple. He looks about ready to burst out of his uber-fitted suit. Oh, goodie. At least I got a rise out of him. That has to count for something, eh?

"That tasteless hunk of stone cost close to a million dollars," he says through gritted teeth.

"Money isn’t everything," I announce in a prim voice.

"You certainly weren’t complaining when you chose the most expensive venue possible for the wedding."

I straighten my spine. "If you mean the All Villa in Bali, that was Lila’s choice. She wanted to get married in Bali, you know."

"And, no doubt you jumped at the idea, considering you get a fifteen percent commission on the entire cost of the wedding."

"Hey, you get what you pay for. I’ve been busting my ass for the past few months to get this event organized.

Do you even know what an impossible task I’ve pulled off?

I’ve managed to get all of the preparations completed in eight weeks.

Eight bloody weeks. That’s just forty-two days.

It normally takes close to a year to organize a ceremony of this scale.

And I pulled it off in less than one-fourth that time. "

"Good, so it won’t be a problem to flip things around to accommodate yourself as the bride, too."

"I never said I was going to marry you."

"Haven’t you been listening to anything I’ve been saying?

" His features grow even harder. Grays and greens shoot through the blue of his eyes until the color resembles that of a gathering storm. "If it’s custody of the child you’re worried about, once you deliver the child, we will separate.

There’ll be a prenup, of course, but I’ll make sure you’re reimbursed for your time.

" He says all of this in a voice so casual, he might as well be asking about the weather. No, strike that. I’ve heard people speak with more emotion about the weather changes in London than he has about his entire crazy-ass idea.

I curl my fingers into fists and resist the urge to leap up screaming.

Won’t do to lose it. Need to keep my cool.

Need to make him see just how crazy this entire conversation is.

"Have you even heard yourself? We barely know each other, and now you’re saying you want me to marry you—instead of the woman the world thinks you’re going to marry.

Not only that, you want me to produce a child, and then you’ll divorce me? "

"We’ll co-parent and have equal rights to the child." He raises his arms in a conciliatory gesture. "I’m not the kind who’ll keep a mother away from her child."

"Of course not," I scoff. "But you’re the kind who’d force a woman to marry him."

"Fake marry."

"Doesn’t seem fake when we’re supposed to produce an heir," I protest.

"There are ways of doing it without my having to touch you. Unless," he looks me up and down and a calculating look comes into his eyes, "unless you prefer it to be done the old-fashioned way. In which case, I might oblige you. If you ask me nicely, that is."

My head spins. My heart seems to have taken up permanent residence in my throat. My stomach feels like a twister has become entangled inside.

"You’re not making any sense. You can’t walk in and threaten me into marrying you, then announce you need me to produce a child for you, in the same breath."

His grin widens. "I just did."

"There’s still time." I raise my hands. "Walk away now, and I’ll forget any of this happened. In fact, I won’t even go to the media with news of how you intimidated me."

"You’re not going to do that."

"Oh, yeah?" I snap back my shoulders. "And why is that?"

"Because when you marry me, even though the marriage is fake, no one else will know. To the outside world, you’ll be the wife of Liam Kincaid, which means, doors will automatically open for you. Your past transgressions—"

"Transgressions?" I shout.

"Transgressions" —he firms his lips— "will be forgotten. Socialites and influencers will queue up to patronize your services. You’ll run the most successful wedding planning outfit in this country, if not all of the continent."

I blink. Now that he mentions it… It’s true. Once I hitch my star to the Liam Kincaid reputation, it’ll be easy sailing. Everyone will want a piece of my wedding planning company. I’ll have more projects than I can handle.

"Your showpieces will, of course, be your own wedding. You can give it any twist you like; make it the kind of wedding you’ve always imagined for yourself."

"For myself?"

"You must have thought about how you’d like to get married." He glances at his watch and straightens. "Well, this is your chance to execute it. Use it to show the world and all the headline seekers exactly how it should be done."

"S-o-o-o, I can do anything I want for my wedding ceremony?" I pluck at the rubber band around my wrist.

"Yes."

"The budget?"

"Unlimited. I’ll need to sign off on the bills, but nothing is too good for my bride. Whatever you want, you can have it."

I squeeze my fingers together. Surely, I’m not considering this.

I’m not actually thinking of going through with this insane proposal of his.

On the other hand, if I do, I’ll have everything I want.

The wedding of my dreams, the chance to prove a point to all the naysayers who thought I’d never make it, and a resounding ‘fuck you’ to all my competition.

Hell, there won’t be competition. I’ll wipe them off the map with this showpiece of a wedding.

No one will ever question my competency again.

And I’ll have enough clients to keep me going for years.

Even after I divorce him, it won’t make a dent in my reputation.

"Well?" He scowls. "What’s it gonna be?"

I pluck at the rubber band with more intensity. "So, I can transform it into the wedding of my dreams, the kind that'll make every media outlet, gossip magazine, and wedding blog sit up and take notice?"

"Do you not understand English? Or have you not been listening to me?"

I straighten in my seat. "I heard you the first time," I say in a low voice.

"Good, so what’s your answer?"