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

Carlee slides on her high heels, holding the back of the couch for balance. Over the last five days, I’ve applied for a handful of jobs, and I’m waiting for interviews. Carlee graciously offered to cover the portion of rent that I didn’t have, and I promised to pay her back as soon as I could. But tonight, she insisted that we go out, her treat. I think she senses I’ve not been feeling like myself lately. To be honest, I haven’t been myself since I learned my ex was a cheating bastard.

“Have you thought any more about your screenplay?” Carlee asks, flipping her straight brown hair over her shoulders.

“Yeah, a little. I think I want to write about a tragedy. Something that’s like a modern-day Romeo and Juliet. Everyone dies in the end.”

“That sounds depressing as fuck.” She grabs a pair of earrings and puts them on. “So, are you not going to tell me about you being with Calloway at Central Park?”

My cheeks immediately burn. “How did you know?”

“Lexi, there are pictures of you two together splashed all over the internet! What were you even talking about?”

“It was a normal conversation about authentic people and how I won’t kiss his ass.” I stand up and stretch. “Trust me, we weren’t hanging out. I was reading, and he interrupted me.”

“Damn, girl, you look hot,” she says, nodding her head. “Tonight, I’m using you as bait to reel in the gorgeous men, and then I’ll go in for the kill.”

This makes me laugh as I look down at my outfit. I’m wearing black slacks, dark red heels, and a black V-neck shirt that shows enough cleavage to tease. My hair is down, and my lips match my shoes. I do feel pretty for the first time in a while, and I appreciate the compliment.

“Thank you. I’m happy to help.”

I reach for my phone to check the time, and Carlee’s rings.

Her face contorts after she answers. “What do you mean?”

“What?” I whisper, not liking how her demeanor has shifted.

“Who did?” She’s staring at me. “You didn’t get his name?”

The conversation continues.

“Okay. Well, thanks. Yeah, no problem.”

She shoves her phone in her back pocket. “Someone paid our rent for the year.”

“Wow,” I say, trying to act surprised. Guess he wasn’t joking.

“This has your scent all over it. What did you do?” she asks.

I hold back a smile. “Easton Calloway offered to pay it if I forgave him for having me fired.”

She shakes her head, not believing it. “Oh my God! Tell me you forgave him?”

“No, I didn’t. He can’t buy me, Carlee. The man walks through life, getting whatever he wants. It stops here.”

I explain how I was reading and how he magically appeared. I keep some of our conversation to myself, but I don’t know why. I have no reason to protect this man.

“Don’t tell anyone.”

“I won’t. It’s safe with me, even though I’d blow my blog up if I released a firsthand account.”

“Please. I don’t want to draw any more attention to myself. If it’s on your radar, it’s already an issue,” I say. Not wanting any of this.

“I promise. It’s for my entertainment only. Wait, did you say you have his number?”

“Yeah.” I unlock my phone and turn the screen around to show her.

“You programmed him in as ASSHOLE?”

This makes me laugh. “No, he did that.”

She snorts. “So, he has a personality. Girl, what are you doing? Call that man right now. Give him a proper thank-you.”

Just thinking about talking to him has me ready to combust. “And say what? Thank you for following through after nearly ruining my life?”

“That’s a start. Or you can offer your sincere appreciation and ask him to join us tonight. It might be fun.”

I meet her eyes, knowing she can’t be serious. “That wouldn’t happen. He’d deny the invitation. We’re not his crowd, Carlee. Trust me. He’s filthy rich, and he probably eats placentas for breakfast or something super evil.”

I think about that boyish smirk and how it felt to hear him chuckle.

She lifts a brow and places her hand on her hip. “Want to put some money down on it?”

I shake my head. “I’m not betting you. I’m already broke enough, and I owe you so much.”

She pulls a one-hundred-dollar bill from her bra and straightens it. “Mr. Franklin could be going home with you tonight. All it takes is one phone call. And if he denies the invitation, I will never mention him to you again. We’ll pretend like none of it happened.”

The thought of speaking to him makes my throat dry. “You’re making me want to drink. I’m sorry, I can’t call him.”

“I should contact your mama right now and tell her how rude you’re being. Not even a thank you to a man who spent eighteen thousand dollars on you like it was nothing?”

“On us,” I say with a groan. “Sometimes, you’re really annoying.”

“Only when I’m right. Show me those Southern manners.”

I slowly take in a deep breath and look down at his contact. ASSHOLE. My phone is heavy in my hand, like I’ll drop it. Calling him feels personal, but he deserves a thank-you, even if that’s where this ends. I’ll quickly make the call, get it over with, and put my protective walls back up.

“You can use my room,” she says, lifting her hand toward it.

“Do I have to do this?” The thought gives me hives.

“Yes.”

She pushes me down the short hallway and into her room. There’s only enough space for her bed, a small table, and a standing mirror. I look down at my phone as she clicks the door closed. It’s the most privacy I’ll get.

“I can do this,” I whisper and click on his number.

It immediately rings, and after the fourth one, I hang up and meet her in the living room.

She grins. “Well?”

“He didn’t answer,” I explain with a shrug. “Ready to go?”

Her brows furrow. “Did you leave a message?”

“No, that wasn’t part of the deal. If he calls me back, I’ll pick up.”

We take the stairs down the four flights of our building. The evening chill hits my cheeks when I push open the door.

As I look out to the street, I stop mid-stride.

There he is, standing in a gray three-piece suit with a black tie. He’s leaning against a white Mustang Shelby GT500 with black racing stripes down the hood—1967, if I had to guess, and I think I’d be right. Pure muscle and Americana. He’s holding a bouquet of yellow roses as the ghost of a smile plays on his luscious lips.

As my foot hits the bottom step, he moves forward and hands them to me.

“For you,” he says.

I look at him like he’s lost his mind.

Carlee looks over at me. “I think I forgot something upstairs. I’ll be right back.”

“Carlee,” I say between clenched teeth, not wanting her to leave me alone with him.

She’s out of sight before I can say anything else.

I turn back to Easton. “What are you doing here?”

“Didn’t you call me?”

My mouth falls open and closes. He has a point.

“I did. I wanted to say thank you. Also, thanks for the roses. We’re heading out for the night.”

The roses smell incredible, and I can’t remember the last time anyone bought me flowers.

I meet his gaze. “I thought I told you the next time you decide to stalk me, wear a mask?”

This makes him chuckle. “I wasn’t stalking you. Was in the neighborhood.”

“Really? You hang out in Harlem often?”

I know he paid our rent, so it’s more than likely true.

His deep blue eyes scan my body from head to toe, then he gives me a boyish grin. His hair is a wild mess on his head, messier than usual. “Join me tonight.”

Before I can answer, my phone buzzes. It’s a text from Carlee.

CARLEE

GO OUT WITH HIM NOW!

CARLEE

NOW! I WILL SURVIVE.

I look over my shoulder and see her standing at her bedroom window, shooing me away. I glance back at him. He’s patiently waiting, looking so damn sexy, as the sun sets in the distance.

“Are you denying me?” he asks, his voice a deep husk.

“Yes,” I whisper, nearly drowning in his eyes, knowing I can’t do this.

His smile widens as he takes a step forward. “Do you want me to beg?”

“You don’t seem like the kind of man who’s ever begged anyone for anything.”

He lifts a brow. “I’m not. But I’d make an exception for you.”

“After this, will you promise to leave me alone?” I ask, resting a hand on my hip.

“I don’t make promises I can’t keep.” He looks down at his watch. “Trust me when I say, we can’t be late.”

“That coming from your mouth doesn’t surprise me.”

“Alexis Matthews, I’d be honored to be in your presence tonight,” he says, opening the car door and presenting my carriage.

Inside are red leather seats, the dashboard, and the steering wheel. It’s a standard, and I can’t deny that shiny Cobra logo in the middle.

I bring my attention back to him. “I’ll make a deal with you.”

“Oh, so you’re into negotiating. I fucking love it. Continue,” he says, returning to the smart-ass I know.

“I’ll join you if you let me drive.”

“Mmm,” he growls. “I don’t let anyone drive my vehicle.”

I hold out my palm, waiting for the keys. I want and need this. “That’s my condition. Agree, or good night, Mr. Calloway.”

“Hardball. Fuck,” he whispers. “You’re perfect.”

Easton pulls the keys from his pocket and holds them above my hand, meeting my eyes before dropping them into my palm, which is exactly how I handed him his watch. “You’d better make it worth my while.”

“I’m thinking the same damn thing.” I go around the back, my fingers sliding over the slick white paint, and climb inside behind the steering wheel. I set the flowers in the back and adjust the position of the leather bucket seat.

As he buckles in, I bend over, remove my heels, and place them next to the flowers. After I push in the clutch, I turn the key and listen to the car roar to life. It’s ferocious.

The steering wheel in my grasp makes me smile as I rub my hands across the smooth leather. “Wow.”

“I guess we’re on the same brain wave tonight,” he says. “Want directions to where I’m taking you?”

I nod, glancing down at the stick of the four-speed. I shift into first gear and it lurches forward. I didn’t expect that much power, though I should’ve. It’s a GT.

He gives me a look of concern, but he doesn’t question my ability to drive as I get acquainted with this beast. With any vintage car, you have to learn it. They all have a sweet spot in gears.

“We’re going to a bar called The Garage. It’s not that far from here,” he says, glancing out the window.

“I know where that is,” I tell him. “They have a Chevelle hanging from the ceiling. I’ve been there a few times. Doesn’t seem like your type of place.”

“There’s a lot about me that would surprise you.”

I glance away from him.

“I take it you know a lot about vintage cars,” he says. “Most people wouldn’t give two fucks what kind of car is hanging in that restaurant.”

I coast in neutral to the stop sign as the engine purrs. I want to take her up on the highway and drive ninety with the windows down.

Before pulling away, I turn to him. “Kinda. My dad was into restoration. He had a 1927 Model T. We rebuilt it together when I was a teenager and drove it to vintage car shows. I’ve been around muscle cars all my life.”

“That’s impressive.” His eyes scan the street as I turn right.

We’re about twelve blocks away.

The sun sets over the distant buildings, and the sky transforms from orange to purple and eventually nightfall.

“I’ve never met a woman who can drive a standard,” he admits.

“That doesn’t surprise me. But you know, I’ve never met a guy like you who has a driver’s license.”

“Ouch. You are feisty.” He shakes his head. “It makes perfect sense.”

“What’s that?” I ask.

“Nothing.” He laughs.

“Now you’re quiet?” I’m confused.

He’s hot, then he’s cold. I don’t know how to read him.

“You’ll figure it out soon enough.”

The conversation comes to a lull, and my heart rate increases. It takes everything I have not to laugh because this is ridiculous. However, anytime I’ve been around this man, it’s been an unpredictable situation.

I place my left hand out the window, allowing the air to blow through my fingers.

“So, you’re from Texas?” he asks.

“Yeah, but how did you know that?” I glance over at him.

“I’ve made knowing everything about you my job,” he says. “You’ve become my new hobby.”

I shake my head. “For some reason, that doesn’t surprise me.”

“Do you miss it?” His tone is sincere.

“Sometimes.” I think about the circumstances that made me leave. “Like right now, I miss being unable to hit an open road and drive this car as fast as possible. I love New York, but … there’s no place like home. Valentine is special.”

He nods and turns back to me. “I think you belong here.”

For a moment, it’s like a dream.

“You seem different today.”

“Do I? Much better than acting like a cold asshole, right?”

“It’s night and day,” I admit.

“Thanks. I’ll take that as a compliment. Oh, there is one tiny thing. I need to apologize in advance, but so far, it’s been a delight.”

“Wh—”

He quickly interrupts me, “Take this parking spot. Can you parallel park?”

“You love offending me, don’t you?”

“I’m sure I say all the right things at the wrong time.”

He chuckles as I reach my arm across the back of the seat. I look into his eyes before glancing behind me as I inch the car into the tight place. After I engage the parking brake and turn the engine off. He holds out his palm, just like the first day we met, and I return his keys.

“Ready for the time of your life?” he asks.

“As ready as you are,” I tell him.

“A little secret: I was born ready,” he says, getting out of the car as I slide on my high heels.

He walks to the driver’s side and opens the door with his hand held out. I take it, and we walk toward the entrance. He’s close to me, and I wonder if photographers are snapping photos of this.

After we enter, I turn to him. “I need to quickly stop by the ladies’ room.”

“I’ll meet you at the bar?” He points over toward it.

“Five minutes,” I tell him, knowing he has a thing with time.

I smile and move toward the restroom as excitement and adrenaline rush through me. I go inside the stall, ignore all texts, and call Carlee. I explain everything as fast as I can because it’s quicker than texting.

“Holy shit,” she says, and I can tell she’s smiling. “You’re on a date with Easton Calloway.”

“It’s not a date,” I explain.

“Call it whatever you want. If a man picked me up in that car, wearing that suit and giving me flowers … well, let your imagination wander.”

“I’ll leave and meet up with you so we can go out,” I tell her because I feel guilty.

“Don’t you dare! If the roles were reversed, I wouldn’t.”

I laugh. “Okay. That’s true. I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing,” she says. “Go have fun!”

“Thanks. I’ll keep you updated,” I whisper.

“And don’t forget to say thank you to him.”

“I already did. Thank you for everything. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

I end the call and lean my back against the stall of the bathroom door. Once my heart rate has settled, I wash my hands and walk to the bar area. On the way there, I pass the same guy I saw in the park last weekend. This must be his bodyguard. I wonder where he’s been all night. Following us?

I shake my head at him. “You’re good at hiding.”

He looks at me like I’ve lost my mind, but he doesn’t say anything. I move through the crowd and find Easton sitting at the bar with a drink.

I place my hand on his back as I climb onto the stool beside him. “Sorry. I’m back. Hopefully, I wasn’t a second over five minutes.”

He does a double take. The small notebook he was writing in is snapped shut, and he places a pen on top. His mouth opens and closes as he searches my face like I’m a ghost. “Alexis?”

“Remember when I mentioned you were being weird as fuck?” I don’t even address him using my full name.

He lifts a brow. “No, I don’t recall that one. Please, enlighten me.”

“Okay, well, you’re doing it again. And it’s giving me whiplash.”

“I’m not sure wha⁠—”

“Thanks for saving me a seat,” a deep, familiar voice says behind us.

My eyes nearly bulge out of my head as I see two Eastons standing in front of me, wearing the same exact thing.

“You’re so rich that you have a fucking clone?” I gasp.

“Weston, you didn’t,” the one sitting beside me says.

“Weston?” I turn and look up at him, grinning. “You’re twins?”

Easton glances at me. “You didn’t know?”

“I didn’t care enough to learn every detail about you. I’m not obsessed,” I harshly whisper.

“Not yet,” he whispers, placing the glass to his lips.

I’ve tried to forget he exists since I crashed into him at the W. Somehow, here I am, with this man for a third time. And I was tricked into it.

Weston takes my hand, stealing my attention away as he places his lips on my knuckles. “Nice to meet you, Lexi. I told you I was sorry already, and I have had a pleasure hanging out with you. Now, you two have some chatting to do,” he says with a wink.

My mouth falls open as Weston turns and walks out of the building. He waves at me as he makes his way in front of the windows until he’s out of sight. Then, I awkwardly sit next to Easton, the man I thought I’d been with for the last thirty minutes. The man I thought I’d somewhat warmed up to. But no, we’re actually still at square one.

Moments later, Weston returns with the bouquet of yellow roses. “A pretty girl should always have flowers on a date.”

“Date?” I ask, confused.

“Perfection.” He laughs, squeezing Easton’s shoulder. “You’re welcome.”

The bartender comes over and takes my order—single malt whiskey.

I don’t say a word for a few minutes, and it grows awkward. The conversation in the Mustang makes more sense. When I’m handed my drink, I take a sip and glance at Easton. I think he’s as shocked as me.

“Anything else I should know?” I ask.

This man is a bag of surprises.

“Sorry, he’s very charming and flirty.”

“I’m confused how he knew anything about me.” I try to put the pieces together, but it doesn’t make sense.

“The photos in the park started this,” he says. “And now, my brother is trying very hard to play matchmaker—to his own demise.” He rolls the ice around in his glass. “I’m not sure what’s more unbelievable—him creating an elaborate scheme to take you out, or that you fell for it.”

He glances over at me, but I see the smile threatening to emerge.

I scoff. “Oh, I can’t believe I fell for it either. You, that charming?”

“Actually”—he tilts his drink toward me—“I’m charming when I want to be. I could easily be the man to sweep you off your feet and have you begging for more of me—if I wanted. Don’t get it twisted, darling.”

When he looks at me, it’s as if he peels off my mask and sees the raw me. “Well then, kinda glad you don’t want to.”

“Oh, I never said that.” He breaks eye contact. “I can tell you were blindsided, and I apologize for that. I’ll take care of him first thing on Monday morning. It will never happen again.”

I don’t know what wrath Easton will throw his way.

“It’s fine. He meant well, and he’s not hard to be around.”

“I know,” he says.

I realize how different they are. Easton is all business, the mastermind.

Calculative. Intelligent. Dangerous.

“I called you,” I say, not sure if he knew it was me or not. I never gave him my number.

“I don’t like to talk on the phone,” he mutters. “To anyone.”

I nod, making a mental note of that. “That’s too bad. I was reaching out to thank you and was extending an invite for you to hang out with me and my best friend tonight.”

“Really?”

“She kinda bet me I wouldn’t ask you. I explained you wouldn’t have joined us anyway.”

“You’d have lost,” he mumbles.

My heart rate upticks. “Oh?”

“You intrigue me, Alexis,” he admits.

“Like a toy?”

Easton shakes his head and gives me his undivided attention. “Like an inferno.”

His words catch me off guard, and I smile. “I love playing with fire.”

He narrows his eyes before licking his lips. “You are the fire.”