Shopping for a Billionaire's Wife (33 page)

I
owe
him.

I peel away from Amanda and give him a kiss. He’s clammy and happy, but clearly unnerved quite suddenly.

“What’s wrong?” I ask him.

“I didn’t buy you a store.”

Oh, no. Have I misunderstood? Did I just make a huge social blunder? “You didn’t?”

“I bought you a
chain
. Grind It Fresh! has nineteen stores in California and Nevada. You’re forty-nine percent owner. Pick your job title, honey. The only job that’s taken is CEO.” 

And with that, he unbuttons his coat, reaches into his jacket pocket, and hands Andrew an envelope. A very, very slim envelope.

“What’s this?” Andrew asks as he takes it. “My wedding present? You buy me a Dunkin’ Donuts? Because that would be a dream come true,” he adds in an acid tone. 

“Not quite.”

Andrew slips his finger under the envelope flap, tearing it open, and pulls the single piece of paper out. Just as he begins reading, I realize what it is.

CEO. Declan said CEO—

“You’re
resigning
from Anterdec?” Andrew thunders. “You can’t do that!”

“Just did.”

“But—”

Declan whirls around and grabs me, his hands shaking. “You told me to find my power. I am. You get your favorite coffee place—which, by the way, has an amazing financial profile—I become CEO, and we grow our own national chain together. Grind It Fresh! is like buying Starbucks in the mid-1970s. We’re going to do great things with this, Shannon.”

“Dec—I—you bought me an entire
company
?” I squeak. 

“Better than a seven-foot animatronic teddy bear, I hope.”

I grab him in a hug and nearly topple us to the ground.

“What if I want to be CEO?” I joke. I am truly teasing. No way am I ready for that.

“Wait! Slow the hell down!” Andrew demands. “I’m losing
her
, too? She’s one of our best employees!”

“But you’re acquiring
me
,” Amanda says with a sour look. “When were you going to tell me you’re
buying
my boss’s company?” 

Andrew’s perplexed anger shifts into a contrite look. “I swear I was going to—after, uh, you know...”

“After what? All the sex slows down?”

Andrew gives Declan a
help me out, bro
look.

Dec just shrugs and kisses me. Joy radiates from him, tension banished by the sheer act of exerting his will.

“Does Dad know?” Andrew interrupts, his tone clear. It’s a threat, not an actual question. 

“Not yet.”

“He’s going to explode.”

“That’s his problem.”

“Jesus, Dec, you’re serious?” Andrew’s voice actually cracks.

“Yes.” Declan kisses me between his replies. “You win, Andrew.”

“I win
what?
”

“You’re CEO of Anterdec. You win.”

Andrew looks wildly at the three of us, eyes bouncing from Amanda to me to Declan. “But
you’re
winning!”

“I found a way we both win.”

“How am I winning if I lose two of my best employees?”

“And I beat you in the gift department.”

Amanda looks at me and whispers, “He totally did.”

“You want your own company now?” Andrew asks Amanda.

“I want Shannon’s job at Anterdec,” she says smoothly, tucking herself under his arm. “How about that? Imagine working together every day. I could even attend private meetings in your office.”

“There might be a silver lining here,” he mutters.

“But not your office
closet
,” she clarifies.

Just as I’m about to say more, I hear my name shouted from near the main doors.

We turn and look to find a burst of familiar faces.

“Look at the fountains outside, Auntie Shannon! Did you see them!” Jeffrey’s so excited he’s jumping up and down like a human jackhammer. Tyler’s face is buried in a 3DS we gave him for Christmas, his go-to when he’s overstimulated and there’s just too much going on. I grab him and force him to hug me, getting a smile and a “Level 38! Achievement Unlocked!” shout in response.

“What are you doing here?” I gasp, glancing at Declan, who flashes his eyes at me and gives Carol a conspirator’s grin as she joins us, enveloping me in a big-sister hug that I really, really need right now.

“Ask him,” she says, pointing to Declan. “He arranged for all of us to come to the wedding.”

My heart buries itself in my knees.

“What? The wedding?” I look at Declan, helpless and hopeless. How can I possibly explain?

“We already got married,” he says bluntly. “Just now.” 

Well, he took care of that awkward moment, didn’t he?

“I know,” she says kindly, rubbing my shoulder with a familiarity that should make me relax but instead, makes me cry. “As long as the Elvis impersonator who married you two didn’t try to get you to give him a blow job for fifty bucks in the back room, you had a better wedding than I did.”

“How did you spend your fifty bucks?” Josh asks Carol, appearing behind her, carrying a small plastic case that holds a large martini glass on its side. It looks like a pet carrier, but that’s not right, is it?

“What’s that?” I peer in through the cage door and get a Hiss of the Damned from its inhabitant. It’s the sound of all the forces of evil being called forth for the ultimate challenge, to destroy and reign over us mere mortals. 

I think there’s a
meow
for dinner in there, too.

Josh sets the case down, opens the door, and extracts a very pissed-off Chuckles from the pet carrier. He’s wearing a Cone of Shame and has the look of a beast who is determined to pee in every single slot machine if it’s the last thing on earth he manages.

“Chuckles! What happened?” I gasp. As if Chuckles would answer. That’s impossible, of course. 

Because he’s clearly giving me the silent treatment.

“After that whole fiasco with falling in the pool and getting caught in the leashes and Chuckles’ flower girl outfit,” Josh explains, his voice going low and confused, eyes searching for my mother, “he needed minor surgery. The cone is so he doesn’t lick his, you know...”

“So he doesn’t lick his tethticleth, Auntie Shannon,” Jeffrey adds. “You should never, ever lick tethticleth.” 

Josh turns a bright shade of pink and cocks one eyebrow at that statement. I give him a look that says,
Not the time for witty banter
.

“Right,” Josh says, simultaneously answering both me and Jeffrey.

I give Jeffrey the hairy eyeball. “Your lisp isn’t
that
pronounced any more.”

He grins. “I know. It’s just that testicles sounds even funnier when you say it with a lisp.”

As Jeffrey walks away, Josh leans in and says, “Your nephew scares me a little. What ten year old is that self-aware?”

“Declan says he’s going to either become the highest-paid hedge fund manager in the world or the head of Anonymous.” 

“That kid might damn well manage both,” Josh mutters.

I’m surrounded by everyone now, Josh explaining that Greg didn’t join them, as he’s holding down the fort back home, Jeffrey and Tyler begging Carol for ice cream, and out of the corner of my eye I see Declan talking to Terry, who must have arrived with this fresh wave of East-Coasters.

Guilt infuses me.

My wedding party, family and friends followed me here.

And I got married without them.

Mom appears, beaming from ear to ear. “I arranged to get them all out here for your wedding.” She winks, the gesture big and fake. “I knew you wanted privacy, so I told James that your father and I were going to renew our vows.”

“You didn’t?”

She shakes her head. “Jason stayed here while I went and got Carol and the boys and Josh. Terry asked to join us. Hamish has some endorsement opportunity in New York for that company, you know...” 

“Jockey for Men? Coca-Cola? Pepsi? Nike?” She shakes her head at all of them.

“No! Fresh Balls.”

I snort.

“And Amy’s stuck at work and can’t make it, but she’ll try to get here tomorrow.”

“What? No. Really?”

Mom shrugs. “It’s some crisis with a client. She said she already saw you run away from one wedding, so she doesn’t need to see you do it out here, too.”

I glower at Mom.

“Where’s Jason?” Mom asks. I shrug. She wanders off in search of him.

“Let me see the ring!” Carol shouts, diving for my hand. “You know Jeffrey still has the original ones?”

“I do, Auntie Shannon.” He frowns. “Wait. That’s for you to say. I do.”

I offer up my hand for inspection. The simple platinum bands Declan bought make me smile, mine pushed up against his mother’s engagement ring. Catching my eye, Dec holds up his left hand, pointing to the ring for Carol’s edification. 

“Nice,” she says with a nod.

“What am I supposed to do with these, then?” Jeffrey asks, pulling a long Star Wars lanyard from his front pocket, our Boston wedding ceremony rings dangling from the metal curl at the end. “Are they mine now?”

“No,” Carol says sharply.

Jeffrey ignores her. “Because I was watching that show,
Pawn Wars
, with Grandpa, and he said pawn shops are a great place to get money for expensive things people don’t want any more.”

“What’s
Pawn Wars
?” a deep voice asks, Terry appearing behind Carol, making her jump. 

“A show about pawn shops! It’s really cool,” Jeffrey gushes. A perfect ten-year-old-boy answer. Not one to be distracted from an opportunity to make money, he pivots his attention away from a confused Terry and returns to me. “What are you going to do with these?” he asks as he hands me the original rings.

I take them gently from Jeffrey and slip them into my purse. “We’ll think of something,” I assure him.

“Ice cream?” Tyler asks, snuggling up to Carol’s hip.

A familiar tense look crosses her face. All single mothers on limited incomes wear this look with more frequency than they’d like. Expectations Management 101: how many times can she say “yes” to something the kids want that involves spending money? And how to prioritize on a limited budget?

Declan appears, leaning in to Carol and whispering in her ear. She jolts, reddens, and her eyes water. She gives Declan an incredulous look, her expression making her look so much like Mom when she was younger that I’m choked up. 

“Seriously?” she asks him, her voice so quiet I almost don’t hear it.

He nods and gives her a small smile, a dawning in his eyes that I can’t pin down.

Carol grabs Declan in an enormous hug and I hear her say, “You’re sure?”

He nods against her shoulder.

What on earth did he say to her?

She reaches down to tousle Tyler’s dirty-blond hair and looks at Jeffrey. “Yes to ice cream.”

“Yay!” Tyler calls out. “Yes to ice cream.”

“Except here it’s called gelato,” I explain. Setting expectations with Tyler is critical.

He looks at me intently. “I want ice cream.”

“Gelato
is
ice cream,” I explain. “It’s ice cream with a different name.”

Declan tilts his head and starts to open his mouth to object. I know they’re not the same. He knows they’re not the same. All the adults know it, but to Tyler, the difference isn’t important.

Avoiding a meltdown is.

“Right,” Declan says with a slow sigh. “And gelato is even better than ice cream.”

“Better?” Tyler’s face lights up.

My turn to argue. “Actually, it’s not,” I murmur in Dec’s ear. “Too sweet. Not creamy enough. The mouthfeel is totally different and—”

He’s kissing me before I can continue with my analysis of sugary treats I shouldn’t shovel into my mouth anyway.

“EWWWWWWWWW!” Tyler and Jeffrey say in unison as they watch us. 

“Yuck,” Jeffrey adds, turning away. “Can I get a double cone, Mom? I deserve one after seeing that.”

“Sure,” she says as Declan ends the kiss. They walk off, Carol practically skipping.

“What did you say to her?” I ask, breathless.

“Told her Anterdec’s covering everything. To charge whatever they want to the room.”

I’m agog. “It’s one thing to do that for my mom and dad, but...are you sure?” 

“Dad says Anterdec’s turning a profit off our ‘manufactured fiasco’—his words, not mine.” Dec holds his hands up as if fending off a protest he expects from me. “Everything’s on the house for your family.” 

“And besides,” he says, pausing. He’s struggling inside, and finally continues, “the look on her face. I couldn’t—I realized what was going on, and I wanted her to not worry. To treat Jeffrey and Tyler to whatever they want.”

Are his eyes...shining? Mine tingle with emotion, my nose filling, and just as I’m about to reply, Jed rushes over, says something in Declan’s ear, and he sprints away. 

“Where are you going?” I shout.

Heads turn at the sound of my voice, but he doesn’t stop, so I follow Declan, running as best as I can in heels.

And there isn’t even a clown chasing me.

He slows just before the very same “High Limit” room my father asked me about the first day we were here, and as Declan parts a curtain, we walk past a table, to another curtain, where yet another baccarat table is placed. My dad is standing at the table, poker-faced, arms crossed over his chest. A bald, intimidating guy wearing an earbud stands behind him, grabbing Declan’s attention with a brow raise and the slightest hint of motion.

Dec nods.

“What are you doing?” I’m huffing, struggling to breathe.

“When a bet gets this high, sometimes they clue in the higher-ups. Jed came over and gave me the courtesy of letting me know Jason’s betting a high-five-figure amount.”

I
know
I heard that wrong.

“Daddy doesn’t
have
high five figures.”

“He does now.” Declan nudges his head toward the table. “He’s got about eighty grand there, with odds 9 to 1 as he bets on a tie.”

“English, please.”

“Your father is betting eighty thousand dollars on a 9 to 1 bet. If he loses, all eighty grand is gone. If he wins, the resort pays him seven hundred and twenty thousand dollars or so.” Dec glances at the dealer, who gives him a courteous nod. Or a sly signal.