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

Same day

She orders another drink, and I can’t believe Weston convinced her to join him.

How?

I can only imagine what he did, what he made me do. When I gave her my number, I decided she’d have to cross the line first. I’m not desperate for attention. I chase no one.

But here she is, one week later, having a drink with me at a bar. I don’t give a fuck how she got here. I only care that she hasn’t left. Lexi wants to stay because she’s intrigued by me.

It’s a dangerous game to play, but when I meet her green eyes, it’s like the entire world melts away. It’s like the rules don’t apply to us, and I’d heavily consider rewriting them if it meant getting to know her.

“Earlier, after you called, I texted you back,” I admit. “You didn’t reply.”

She unlocks her phone. My text is there, as I said, and she smiles.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t see it. Your brother kinda had me occupied.”

“Did you have fun with him?” I ask, knowing he probably picked her up after I texted him that she’d called me. Bastard.

“Actually, yeah.” She pauses. “I was thinking about how I needed to thank you for what you had done, and then you were magically standing outside of my apartment. Well, Weston was, but I thought it was you.”

“So, you were thinking about me?”

A smile plays on her lips. “I guess you could say that.”

The bartender picks up our empty glasses. He gives Alexis another drink before helping someone at the other end of the bar.

“Curious. How did Weston get you to join him?”

She laughs. “Had he not shown up in that white 1967 Mustang Shelby GT500, I wouldn’t be here.”

My jaw clenches. “Son of a bitch.”

“Oh, so that is yours?” she asks like she’s impressed.

“Yeah, I have a thing for muscle cars,” I admit.

She stares at me for a few seconds too long. “It’s a beautiful car. The clutch felt great. Lots of power. I was cheated though because I couldn’t open her up on the highway and cruise.”

I hold up my hand. “Wait. Wait a second. He let you drive?”

“He mentioned he never lets anyone drive his vehicles. So, I made it my stipulation, and he happily handed me the keys,” she says. “That should’ve been a dead giveaway that something was up. I have a feeling you wouldn’t have fallen for that and would’ve renegotiated somehow.”

“I’m sure he thought that was fucking hilarious.” I glance over at her. “And you’re right. No one drives my cars. I would’ve renegotiated.”

“You said … cars. As in plural.”

“Yeah. Lots,” I admit. “But I’m impressed.”

Alexis turns to me with her eyebrows raised. “Why? Didn’t think I could drive a standard?”

“Mainly because you knew the year, make, and model—355 horsepower, V8. It was when the Shelby GT was introduced to the Mustang line. The introduction and birth to all muscle cars, dare I say.”

“Mmm. I don’t think I realized that,” she says. “Makes it even more special then.”

Her smile falters for a split second, but she pushes it away.

“What were you just thinking about?” I ask because curiosity takes hold.

She takes a sip of her drink. “You’re good at reading people.”

“Paying attention is one of my best qualities. You’ll learn that.” I pause for a few seconds, capturing her gaze. “When I was younger, I was shy and didn’t talk much. I watched how people interacted for years. Because of that, it’s easy for me to pick up on subtle nuances, like nervous tics and tells. When people’s energy shifts. And I have an impeccable judgment of character.”

“And you still got me fired,” she says, shaking her head.

“Yeah, I think that’s why I felt—and still feel—guilty. Because I realized I’d overreacted.”

“Mr. Calloway, do you actually have a heart?” Her voice has a hint of sarcasm, but she’s playful. And she sounds like my damn brother.

“Don’t tell anyone,” I say with a smirk. “Might ruin my reputation.”

The jukebox in the corner plays an old rock song and chatter fills the space. It’s a Friday night in June, and the place is growing more crowded. I was supposed to be catching up with my brother, but instead, I’m here with Alexis, sharing my truths. I’m not complaining.

“What do you see when you look at me?” she asks.

“Do you want the truth or a lie?” It’s an honest question. Some people can’t handle the truth. I believe Alexis can.

She doesn’t act like anyone I’ve met, and she sure as fuck doesn’t care about me, my life, or who I am. Being unfazed by me is her best quality.

“The truth,” she whispers.

“I think you’re confident, good at masking your emotions, gorgeous, but also insecure. I want to figure out why.”

She swallows hard, studying me as she licks her lips.

I’m right though. I know I am, and so does she.

“I just wish you could see what I see. That’s all.” I take a sip of my whiskey.

“What do you see?” she asks.

“Someone who has the ability to make all of their dreams come true.”

Her breath hitches. “You mean that?”

“Raw truths, Alexis. Now, it’s your turn.”

She twirls the ice in her glass before finishing her drink. “Truth or lie?”

“I’m curious about the lie, but I want the truth. Always.”

She studies me. “Hmm. I see a man searching for something that money can’t buy.”

“And what would that be?”

“If I had to guess … companionship. Love.” We fall into silence for a few seconds. “But … I don’t believe love exists. So you could be wasting your time searching for it.”

I wait for the punchline, but one doesn’t come. “You’re serious.”

“Dead serious.” She nods.

“I’m shocked.” I regroup my thoughts.

She reaches over and lightly pinches me. “Hi. I’m the anti-love, hopeless romantic. It’s very nice to meet you.”

“I’m sorry,” I tell her, noticing her mood shift.

The mask she wears when placed in an uncomfortable situation makes an appearance. She’s a professional at blocking her emotions, but I see it in her eyes. There’s no fooling me.

“No need to apologize.” She covers her pain flawlessly.

“If you stopped believing in love, someone in a past relationship hurt you, and that shouldn’t have happened. It’s okay to have feelings about that.”

She doesn’t confirm, but she doesn’t have to. I see right through her.

“So, what about you? What’s your deal? You obviously have one.”

Her arm brushes against mine, and I can smell the strawberry scent of her shampoo. I try to think back to the women I thought might’ve been the one, but weren’t.

“I’ve never met anyone who’s kept my interest for over two weeks,” I say with a single sigh.

Her face scrunches. “Ever?”

“It’s been nearly two decades. I grow bored easily, and it’s a turnoff when people try too hard. I want something more than the superficial shit. Otherwise, I’d have had a thousand relationships, and none would’ve counted. So, after fourteen days, if I’m not interested, I end it. I’ve been waiting around for the right woman. Haven’t found her yet.”

“Does she exist?” she asks with a smirk.

“Probably not,” I tell her, glancing at my watch.

We’ve been here for an hour, but it feels like five minutes have passed.

“Got somewhere to be?” She lifts her brows.

“Right here.”

She orders another round of drinks and I move to water. Her leg presses against mine, and she’s warm. I’m tempted to place my hand firmly on her thigh, but I don’t. No lines will be crossed.

“I have a feeling you’ve never gotten caught up in a moment,” she says.

My eyes glaze over as I try to recall my life in a snapshot of memories, of sketches. “Not really. And I’m never late. It’s my number one pet peeve.”

Her face softens, and I think I see … pity? “That’s … really depressing. It’s not the flex you think, unless you’re eighty.”

“First time anyone has ever told me that. Being punctual is an excellent quality to have.”

“If you’re a nerd or an ass-kisser.” She shrugs. “I’m on time to work but late everywhere else, especially to parties. Sometimes, it’s about arriving once the room is warmed up and everyone has moved past the awkward stage of the night. I can remember the very first time I nearly missed something important.”

“Really?” My brain can’t comprehend the carelessness.

“It was my thirteenth birthday party. My mother almost canceled because they couldn’t find me.”

“Where were you?” I ask, intrigued.

She snickers. “Lying in the rain. I stayed there while the mountain drops stung my skin. My parents were pissed, but it was an experience, one that I’ll never forget. When I think back on my life, I’ve got a lot of adventures like that.”

“Sounds like something that’d never happen to me.”

“Have you ever howled at the moon in your underwear until you were hoarse, or hiked part of the Appalachian Trail until you had no idea what day it was anymore?”

“No. I’ve done other things though. Like raising over a billion dollars and enriching people’s lives.”

She frowns. “Okay, that’s great. Incredible. The world needs more philanthropists. But what about your life, Easton? You have no idea what it’s like to be purposely lost.” She shakes her head. “I wouldn’t trade places with you. No way.”

I think about days and times and my schedule for the next year, realizing none of it includes spontaneity. I’m by the book; I follow the rules and do the right thing. Weston is right; maybe I need to take more chances.

A flash in my peripheral vision catches my attention, and I glance out the front windows. There’s a man across the street with a long lens, and I think Brody spots him at the same time I do. He points to the exit and I nod.

I turn back to Lexi. “Do you want to get out of here?”

“Because you have somewhere to be?” she counters.

“Because I want to be somewhere else with you.”

I close out our tab and set hundreds on the bar top. She grabs her flowers and we approach the door.

Brody shoves something cool into my hand. “Weston told me to give you these.”

I look down at the keys to the Mustang and shake my head at his car choice.

Clever bastard.

“Did you know about this?” I ask Brody, but as he opens his mouth, I interrupt, “We’ll talk about it later.”

Lexi follows me, and when she’s closer, I place my hand on her shoulder, leading her toward the exit. When we step outside, I stand in front of her, blocking her from the view of the camera across the street.

“What are you doing?” she asks, looking up into my eyes.

“I’m sorry, paparazzi. I want to protect you from the rumors,” I tell her.

“Are you embarrassed by me?”

“Absolutely not,” I say, the spark igniting deep inside, but I also know how this goes.

It’s always the chase. It’s always the first fourteen days, the prospect of falling in love. But then it ends when they show their true colors.

“Okay.” She reaches forward and takes my hand.

Her touch makes me tense. It’s the electricity, the undeniable attraction, that’s almost too much.

I narrow my eyes at her and swallow hard. “You shouldn’t start something you don’t intend on finishing.”

“Why not live in the moment?” She interlocks her fingers with mine, and I surprisingly relax. “You should make them eat from the palm of your hand, Easton. Give them something to talk about.”

I tilt my head at her. “You’re perfect.”

She laughs. “Now, that’s officially the second time you’ve told me that tonight. Oh, wait, that was your brother. Guess it’s true then?”

I make a mental note to ask Weston why he said that. Maybe he sees the same thing I do—determination, mixed with a dash of defiance. My favorite combination in a woman. And the only type who can handle me.

“One hundred percent true. Now, do you remember where you parked?” I turn my body, loving how small her warm hand feels in mine and how soft her skin is as I rub my thumb across the top of hers.

“At the end of this block,” she whispers, smiling at me as we stroll down the sidewalk. It’s almost easy to pretend with her, especially when she looks at me the way she does.

A silent conversation streams as we arrive at the car that’s parked perfectly between two others.

I let go of her hand and face her. “You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met.”

“I’m one of a kind. Now, gonna give me those keys?” She holds out her palm.

“Hell no. I’m okay to drive. You’re not.” I unlock the passenger door and open it for her.

“I’m having déjà vu from when I got picked up,” she says, tugging on my black tie and sliding her hand down the length of it. I notice how her gaze meets my mouth, and how she licks her plump, kissable lips.

“You can try all the tricks in the book, but you’re not getting the keys this time. I’ve got a little secret.” I lean in and whisper, “I’m much harder to crack than my brother.”

“Great. Because I love challenges too,” she whispers, holding back a smile as she gets inside and buckles.

“You play dirty as fuck.” I close the door and hear her laugh as I walk to the driver’s side.

I get behind the steering wheel and crank the engine, loving the way it roars to life. I haven’t driven this car in so fucking long. There was no reason to.

“Parking brake engaged,” I say with a brow lifted. “Good girl.”

She tucks her lips into her mouth. Mmm, maybe it’s not a billionaire kink she has, but a praise one.

I hold down the clutch carefully moving the stick into first gear as I slowly inch onto the road. As we speed off, leaving Brody and the paps here, I know hundreds of pictures of us were taken together in that short amount of time. The tabloids will run with this story.

“Do you like the yellow roses?” I ask.

“Yeah, they’re beautiful,” she admits.

“If I had to guess, I’d say white ones are more your style.”

She grins. “It’s almost like you know me.”