The Wife Situation: A Billionaire Age Gap Marriage of Convenience Romance (Billionaire Situation Book 1)

Birthday Countdown: 46 Days

Igrab a towel and move through the bedroom to the oversized closet. My clothes for the next three days, while I’m staying at the W, are neatly hung, as instructed. I slide on a freshly pressed pair of black slacks and a white button-up, then I adjust a black tie around my neck. Before going downstairs to meet with my bodyguard, Brody, I sit on the edge of the bed to put on my shoes. As I instinctively reach for my watch on the nightstand, my hand stops midair.

“What the fuck?” I whisper, standing, certain where I placed it.

Right there. Right fucking there.

My eyes scan the floor, but I know it couldn’t have fallen because I’m not reckless. I take care of the things I cherish.

As I glance around the room, everything is the same, except for a vase on an accent table. I stand in front of it, staring at it, swearing it was a smidgen to the left, but I also know that’s impossible. I’ve been the only person up here since I arrived exactly thirty minutes ago.

I return to the bathroom and reach inside the pockets of the clothes I was previously wearing. Empty, as I predicted. Shit doesn’t disappear … it walks off. And while I could buy a million other fucking watches, that one is irreplaceable.

Shaking my head, I decide to go downstairs. When I take the bottom step, I barely have enough time to realize there’s someone in the room, and she’s about to crash into me. I brace myself for the collision, and she stumbles backward, losing her balance. Before she can fall, I grab on to her tightly, pulling her into my chest, and steady us.

That was close.

Her pouty red lips part as I meet her emerald-green eyes. The faint hint of her perfume lingers, and her mere presence causes me to take pause. Everything freezes, maybe even time itself. My mouth opens and closes as I tower over her small frame. I realize I’m still holding her as our warm breaths mix together, so I drop my hands to my sides, step away, and create much-needed space.

“Hi,” she says.

It’s hard for me to place her expression, but there’s a twinkle of something as she visibly eye-fucks me.

“Hello.” My gaze scans down the gray dress with the W logo embroidered in the corner. It falls gently below her knees. The crisp white apron cinches tightly around her small waist.

She’s not wearing any jewelry—no earrings, necklace, or wedding ring. Not even a bracelet. A woman as beautiful as her deserves to be spoiled, showered in riches. The immediate attraction is undeniable, but also insufferable and not what I need.

A hint of a blush hits her cheeks, and she chews on her lip.

The silent but dangerous conversation continues. How can this woman steal my breath in such a profound way that it leaves me puzzled? Nearly speechless.

“Hi,” she says again.

“You already said that,” I tell her with a brow popped. “But you can leave now. I arrived earlier than planned, and they must’ve forgotten to inform you.”

I’m usually not so forgiving, but this has to be a misunderstanding. Everyone at the W is aware I’m not to be disturbed while I’m here. I’ve made it crystal fucking clear. It’s been talked about in the gossip magazines, the ones that have covered my family, right alongside the Vanderbilts, Astors, and Rockefellers. Thanks to them, the goddamn world knows I prefer to be alone. Except her.

So, I’ll do this one act of kindness. When she’s about to say something else, I catch the glint of gold held tight in her balled fist. My body tenses when I see it and my jaw clenches.

“What’s in your hand?” The question comes out steady but with frustration. And people wonder why I’m not kinder. It always bites me in the ass.

Her dark brows crease as she glances down at my property and swallows hard.

She shouldn’t be in here, not like this, and seeing my grandfather’s watch in her possession is a cruel joke. A gorgeous thief, the only woman who’s ever had the ability to steal my breath away with a single glance, is my karma. I nearly laugh at the severity of the situation, but keep it tucked deep inside for me to focus on in the middle of the night.

I step forward, holding out my palm, but I don’t take my intense gaze from her. My nostrils flare as she gently returns what she took.

“What’s your name?” I roll the shirtsleeve to my forearm before sliding the cool metal onto my wrist. I adjust it, glancing at the logo of my family’s business on the clock face. It’s past four, and in a few hours, I’ll be schmoozing investors while closing multimillion-dollar deals.

I tuck my hands into my pockets, glaring back at her. When her pretty face saddens, my heart almost stops beating. But I need to know who she is and why she’s here.

“Your name?” I breathe out, growing impatient with every passing second. The words come out harsher than I intended, but I’m fucking pissed and disappointed. “Did someone send you?”

I’ve never met anyone who dared to take anything from me. There has to be a better explanation for this. No one keeps me waiting, but here I am, with bated breath, desperate for this woman to tell me who the fuck she is.

“Mr. Calloway,” she kindly says, clearing her throat.

“That’s my name. Now, I’d like yours. And please don’t make me ask again.” It comes out like a growl as I continue to grow impatient.

“No one sent me. I’m Alexis, but I prefer to be called Le—” Her voice is sweet with a hint of a Southern drawl.

She’s charming, but I’ve never met a criminal who wasn’t. Especially in the business I’m in.

“I don’t give a fuck, Alexis. Why are you here?” I glare at her, scratching my finger down the scruff on my cheek.

“It’s Lexi,” she corrects.

“Why did you have my watch?” I cross my arms over my chest.

“I’m sorry. I was cleaning and saw it on the nightstand, and that was it. No one sent me. I⁠—”

“You took it.” I’m unamused as my care meter begins to lower.

“Yes. But you’re unwilling to let me explain myself, so I guess this conversation is over, isn’t it?”

“Correct.” I need her out of my space.

“Ugh.”

She groans at me, and the ghost of a smile plays on my lips.

I’m not used to anyone being so fearless around me, or maybe it’s carelessness. Most are too intimidated, afraid I’ll be the man they’ve been warned about. But it’s obvious Alexis doesn’t care about who I am or what it is I do. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she believes I’m the inconvenience.

“You can leave now,” I state, wanting to be alone.

She glances away, and I can see the anger building behind her eyes. I shouldn’t find her reaction adorable.

“You’ve already wasted enough of my time today.”

“Wow. For a second, I thought you’d be different from the rest of them.”

Her words shouldn’t affect me, but they fucking wound me.

“You thought wrong.”

And when her perfect mouth moves into a firm line, I think she knows she struck a nerve.

“I hope you have the day you deserve, Mr. Calloway.” She mockingly curtsies me, then turns toward the exit.

“Goodbye, Alexis.” It’s the last thing I say before the door slams closed.

I try to relax, feeling the metal on my wrist, the reason for this entire encounter.

I immediately call the concierge. “I’d like to speak to Mr. Martin, please.”

He’s the manager of the hotel, the only man I deal with when on these premises. Because my family’s company is hosting the world’s largest diamond convention at this location, I was compensated for a weekend stay at the Tower Penthouse.

“Yes, Mr. Calloway, one moment.”

I’m placed on hold.

I exclusively stay at this hotel chain when I travel, and considering who I am, I thought my requests during this visit would be taken seriously. The only reason I’m staying on-site instead of at my penthouse is so I didn’t have to travel. It also gives me an escape if the conference grows too overwhelming. As an introvert, I can only handle so much peopling.

While I patiently wait for Mr. Martin, the door opens again. This time, it’s Brody, and he’s carrying a bag of food.

“Special delivery,” he says, holding it up.

When he looks in my direction, he tilts his head. He’s my cousin, and he’s worked for me for fifteen years. He almost knows me better than my identical twin brother, Weston.

I glance at the time; a minute has passed.

Mr. Martin finally answers. He’s lucky; I don’t wait longer than sixty seconds for anyone.

“Mr. Calloway. How may I be of service, sir?”

He’s breathless.

“I’d like an explanation for why your housekeeper—Alexis—entered my room and stole my watch.”

Brody’s jaw drops to the floor.

“Excuse me? Alexis Matthews?” Mr. Martin’s voice rises an octave, which is surprising. He’s usually calm and collected.

He’s concerned. Hell, so am I. But now, I have her full name.

Alexis Matthews.

“I’ve mentioned countless times that I don’t want to be disturbed in the Tower while I reside here. Over the years, the W has complied with my request without issues. However, what happened today is unacceptable, and I hope you take care of it immediately.”

There’s a long pause, and I don’t have to threaten to take my business elsewhere. He can read the invisible writing on the wall and already knows what’s on the line. I will move every convention my company hosts for the next two decades to a competitor who doesn’t hire beautiful little thieves who sneak into guests’ rooms and steal family heirlooms.

“Yes, sir. Please accept my sincerest apologies. This will never happen again. Guaranteed.”

“Thank you.” I end the call, then walk to the door and turn the deadbolt. The last thing I need is another person entering without permission.

Brody turns to me. “Easton, I was gone for thirty minutes. What the fuck happened?”

“I almost found my conscience,” I say.

Her green eyes already haunt me.

“Damn,” he says with a laugh. “Now, that would’ve been a miracle.”

I return upstairs to grab my suit jacket, wanting to erase Alexis Matthews from my mind. The sooner I can forget those pouty lips and how loose strands of dark hair fell around her face as she looked up at me, the better.

Today, I met the woman I’d eat a poisoned apple for. Thank fuck I won’t ever have to see her again.