My Billionaire Fling by Maci Dillon
SOPHIA
If every morning of married life begins the way it did today, call me married as fuck.
Bring on the wedding day already.
Except, happiness can’t be promised from one day to the next, no more than life itself.
Growing up, I’d lay awake and listen to my parents argue in the library downstairs. They thought they were being discreet, keeping their arguments behind closed doors, but I saw what it did to them. The more Dad’s oil business grew, the longer he spent on trips away and the less he and Mom enjoyed valuable time together.
The weekend of the accident, my father had arranged to travel to Texas to secure the biggest deal of his life. My mother begged him not to go. Unable to explain why, I recall her repeatedly saying she had a bad feeling about the affiliation.
In the end, Dad convinced Mom to go with him, promising her ten days traveling through Louisiana, Mississippi, and into Florida and down to the Keys once the deal was finalized. She’d always wanted to visit the south, and Florida was on her bucket list. It was the perfect opportunity for her to fulfill a dream and for them to spend some much-needed quality time together.
Except they never made it.
The light plane they traveled in from Fort Worth only made it halfway to the oil site before falling from the sky in a fiery ball of death, claiming the lives of my parents and the pilot.
My phone ringing breaks through my thoughts, and I’m pleased to see Kelli’s face flashing on my screen. Tapping to answer, she greets me first. “You said yes!”
Holding the phone away from my ear, I wait until she calms down. She knows as well as I do it’s all a sham but from day one, she’s been team Gabe.
“Congratulations, you dirty whore,” she blasts, “I’m so freaking happy for you. Tell me you watched the video this morning. God, you look so fucking happy. When did that happen?”
Ugh. Exactly what I didn’t need. Confirmation of my thoughts from earlier.
“Last night at dinner,” I say, knowing that’s not what she’s asking.
I cut her off. “I’ll be in the office in five… hold your thoughts until then.”
Eager to find some status quo in my day, I hang up.
As I round the corner in the direction of Incontro, I notice a swarm of reporters waiting by the door on the street.
Great.
Quickly, I escape into the nearest coffee shop, I call Stacy. “Sophia, I was just about to call you. The press is outside with cameras rolling, waiting for your arrival.”
“I just saw them. I snuck into Wade’s Coffee Shop to avoid them and call you. What’s the plan? I take it you’ve seen the proposal this morning?”
“I have, and well done. World-class acting from both of you. Nobody will ever assume it’s not true love.”
Yeah, so I’ve heard.
“They’ll want a close-up of the ring, a photo of the happy bride-to-be, and a date. Pluck one out of thin air if you haven’t discussed this yet. Make it at least twelve months into the future so they won’t be hounding you daily for new updates on wedding plans.”
Okay. Sucking in a deep breath, I make my way to the office. Annoyed we didn’t set a fake date when we spoke of it last night, I’ll to have to wing it. We knew this would be the question on everyone’s lips today.
Reporters swarm me as I approach, and I offer a radiant smile. Purposely, I flash my bling in their direction with a not-so-subtle flick of the hand. In this moment, I’m surprised how much I love the spotlight.
My ears ring with the best wishes and congratulations of people who honestly couldn’t give a fuck. I play the game and give them what they need as questions begin flying.
“When’s the big day?”
“Have you set a date?”
Waving my hands in the air to silence the herd, I give them the answer they want the most and try to slip inside. “We’ve decided on a long engagement, September 8th next year.”
“Why so long?”
“How long have you been dating?”
The questions keep firing, many of the same asked in various ways, each reporter hoping for the scoop to satisfy their editors and engage their readers.
“Do you know the real Gabe Lugreno?”
Now that’s a question I’m incapable of answering. My gaze bounces from face to face in front of me, searching for the reporter who posed the question. It isn’t difficult as the crowd quietens down and all eyes turn to a man at the back. He appears to be in his late twenties, possibly early thirties, his expression eerily solemn and his dark eyes piercing mine.
Not the reporter type.
“That will be all for today, thank you.”
Barreling through the door, I take a deep breath. What the fuck was that?
“Kelli, if they haven’t left the premise within fifteen minutes, please call security to have them removed.”
“Sure thing. Are you okay? You look beaten to a pulp.”
I glance back outside and see the same man standing, hands deep in his pockets, staring at me with a peculiar grin through the glass door.
Without taking my eyes off him, I speak to Kelli. “The man staring in the jeans and black tee…” I wait for Kelli to acknowledge who I’m speaking of, “… get me a name and find out who he answers to, please.”
Pushing my way through the team who have left their posts to see what all the commotion is about, I accept each of their congratulations with a gracious smile before I lock myself in my office.
I consider texting Gabe about the reporter’s comments, but it was too vague of a question to cause concern for both of us. I opt to dig a little deeper myself before I share anything with Gabe, and that’s when it hits me.
His accent. The mysterious man outside is an American.
Rushing to the front door, I find him, and the rest of the crowd has already moved on.
Dammit.
When I spin on my heels to return to my office, Kelli is sitting at her desk staring at me with a huge smile on her face.
“What’s the ridiculous smile for?”
She pushes her chair back and saunters toward me.
“I’ll get you the information you need in a few moments, but I’m dying to see.”
My mind is scattered, and it takes a moment for me to understand why she’s so deliriously happy and inquisitive.
“Show me the bling, baby,” she sings, taking my hand and falling instantly in love.
“Holy shite, that’s some serious diamond heist, Soph.”
Squealing, she throws her arms around me, and I struggle to keep my feet on the ground enough to fold us both upright. A flutter of guilt lodges in my chest. I walked into the office throwing demands at her without so much as a hello, allowing her no chance to shower me with congratulations.
“I’m so excited for you,” she carries on happily.
Smiling brightly, I thank her. “I know you are. But remember—”
“Yes, I know, but don’t be a downer. When are we having a girl’s night to celebrate?”
“This Saturday,” I answer immediately, “Why the fuck not?” I’ll let Kassidy and Maxine know tonight, and I’ll make a call now to Jules, Holly, Karyn, and Bel to give them the news before they too see it on the web and come after me with pitch forks.
With Bel’s hubby an editor-in-chief at a local women’s magazine, I can only tell them what we need the world to believe. It’s a good thing my acting skills are top-notch.
GABE
“Hey buddy, it’s Ben.”
“Miss me already?” I laugh.
“Somebody does, that’s why I’m calling.”
Instantly frowning, I take a seat at my desk and put my feet up.
“Go on.”
“There was a guy snooping around here the other day, asking questions about you and how we know each other. Said he was an old friend.”
“Did he give you a name?”
“Nah, man, said he hasn’t seen you since you were young kids in Connecticut, and you probably wouldn’t remember him anyways. Didn’t think too much of it, but it got me thinking, you said you grew up in Jersey.”
Running my fingers through my two-day-old growth, I contemplate what this means.
“Yeah, probably some money-hungry grub, looking for his five minutes of fame.”
“I saw your woman on television just now, held up by the press outside her offices. The guy that was asking questions, he was there. I’m sure it was him.”
Blood runs cold through my veins.
Once I say goodbye to Ben and thank him for the heads-up, I call Ronnie, my private investigator. He worked the case against my father, and in the end, it was his evidence that convicted him. Ever since, it’s him I call if a matter requires investigation.
While I wait for him to answer, I search Google for the news broadcast Ben mentioned. There are no familiar faces in the crowd, but that doesn’t mean anything.
“Ronnie, it’s Gabe Lugreno. Call me as soon as you can on this number. I’m in London.”
Sending him a quick email, I let him know I have a job for him, one I need carried out discreetly.
While I watch the brief interview of Sophia, I learn we have until September 8th next year to plan her perfect wedding. First, I need to up my game and convince her I’m the man she should marry.
For real.
