Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
W hen we arrived on the tarmac at the private airport in LA the following afternoon, a set of matching Audi A8s were waiting for us, along with two drivers. I glanced at Graham as he held out his hand to assist me down the last few steps of the aircraft.
“Thank you.” I tried not to think about the fact that I was touching him. And in less than forty-eight hours, I’d be married to him.
Married. To Graham.
I tried to tell myself it would all work out. Once we were married, I wouldn’t have to worry about funding for the chateau. But the idea of walking down the aisle set my heart galloping.
Graham signaled to one of the drivers, and she stepped forward. “Lily, this is Willow. She’ll be protecting you.”
I was grateful I was wearing sunglasses so I could scan her surreptitiously. She was about six feet tall, built like a rugby player, and wearing the prettiest shade of pink lipstick I’d ever seen.
“Hi,” I said, holding out my hand. “Nice to meet you, Willow.”
“You too,” she said then returned to the car to give Graham and me some privacy.
“I have some business to attend to, but I arranged for my stylist to meet you at my penthouse. Jay will help you prepare for everything we have coming up.”
Graham’s cryptic wording had me wondering if he was referring to our secret wedding or something more. I knew what Graham’s calendar was like—or at least, what it had been like two years ago. And I didn’t imagine that much had changed. He often attended events around the city for various charities. Events I’d now be expected to attend with him, as his wife.
Would people view me as a trophy wife? A gold digger?
The truth was far more salacious.
I wondered what people would think if they knew that Graham had given me twenty million dollars to pretend to be his wife and help him secure his legacy.
It still seemed like an extreme move on his part, but I knew he’d do anything to protect his family’s brand.
I rested my sunglasses on top of my head. “Okay. Sure. Did you want to give me a new passcode?” I’d visited his penthouse a few times while I’d been in his employ. Each time, I’d needed a different eight-digit passcode.
He shook his head. “I upgraded my home security last year. All you have to do is place your thumb on the keypad, and the door will unlock.”
“Wow. Okay.” That was incredibly high-tech. And then I frowned. “Don’t we need to program my prints?”
“It’s already done.”
“But—” My mouth opened and closed.
“Close your mouth, mon petit poisson .” Then he mumbled, “Before I put it to good use.” Or at least, that’s what it sounded like.
Maybe I was imagining things because that certainly didn’t seem like something Graham would say. And definitely not to me. I didn’t know what to remark on first—the fact that he’d spoken French or that he’d called me his little fish.
I tried to ignore the heat coursing through me at his suggestion.
“Do you actually speak French?” I asked in French. “Or did you use an online translator?”
“My grandparents insisted that we all learn multiple languages so we could communicate in a global economy.” His French was perfect.
“Smart. I knew you were fluent in Japanese and Spanish. I just didn’t realize you were also fluent in other languages,” I continued, enjoying the fact that we could converse in another language.
“Japanese, French, Spanish, and German.”
“Holy shit,” I said, finally returning to English. First, the black belt and now this? It made me realize that maybe I didn’t know my future husband as well as I’d thought.
“Have you always been fluent in French?” he asked. “I don’t remember seeing that listed on your résumé.”
“I was always proficient. I took French classes through high school and college, but I wasn’t fluent until more recently. After I started looking to purchase a chateau, I enrolled in a French language immersion course so I could converse with the architects and artisans.”
He nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Tant d’idiomes amusants.”
“Oui.” The language certainly had some interesting idioms.
“One of my personal favorites is, ‘Qui ne risque rien, n’a rien.’”
He who risks nothing, has nothing.
That wasn’t surprising.
“Back to the fingerprint thing,” I said, trying to get us back on track. I remembered that we weren’t alone, and I was fully aware that Willow and the team were just standing by, waiting for us. “How do you have my fingerprints?”
“They’re in your file from your background check when you got the job at Huxley.”
“Oh.” Right. Of course. That made sense.
“Also…” He reached into his wallet and pulled out a black Amex with my name on it. “Feel free to charge whatever you need.”
“Whatever I need?” I choked on the word, thinking that was incredibly broad.
“Anything you need.” Was his voice deeper, or was I imagining it?
“That card has no spending limit.” And he’d added me as an authorized user? When had he even done that?
“And…?” He arched one brow.
“And you’re already giving me…” I glanced around, mindful of my word choice. “So much.”
“I trust you,” he said.
“But what if I take advantage of it?” I didn’t intend to, but I’d never had such spending power at my fingertips. I’d never been handed his personal black Amex card, not even when I’d been working as his assistant.
“You won’t,” he said simply.
“But how do you know ?” I asked, still in awe of the trust he was placing in me. I knew it wasn’t something he gave but something that had to be earned.
“Because—” he stepped closer, tucking a wayward strand of my hair behind my ear “—I know you.”
I was still thinking about what Graham had said when Willow pulled up to his penthouse an hour later. I’d enjoyed talking to her in the car and getting to know her, not that she’d volunteered much information about herself. I supposed it was a job hazard—or maybe a requirement—but it wasn’t like I had previous experience to go on. I’d never had a bodyguard before. I appreciated that Graham took my safety seriously, even if it seemed unnecessary.
I pressed my palm to the keypad outside, still skeptical that the door would open. Willow had received the “all clear” from someone else with Hudson Security during the drive, so she didn’t have to go in to secure the apartment ahead of me. The lock disengaged, and as soon as I opened the door, I heard the sound of panting and claws on tile before I saw them. Graham’s beloved Irish Wolfhounds. His pride and joy.
“Prince Albert! Queen V!” I grinned, pleased when Prince Albert nudged my hand with his head, silently asking me to pet him. Queen V leaned against my side, her weight a steady comfort.
“Wow,” Willow, aka “The Beast,” said from behind me. “They’re even bigger than I expected.”
“But the sweetest,” I said, still wondering about her code name. That’s what I assumed it was after Pidgeon, one of the other guys from Hudson Security, had called her “The Beast.” I bent forward and rubbed Prince Albert behind the ears. “Aren’t you?”
A noise startled me, but I tried not to let it show. I hadn’t slept well, and I was on edge from keeping this secret from my best friend. At least in the short-term. I’d bought myself some time to figure out what and how to tell her. But I needed to have a plan, because she was coming to LA soon.
Coming to LA to attend my surprise wedding she didn’t know about. I wanted to bury my head in my hands. I was exhausted from thinking of all the ways my life was about to change. Was already changing.
“So.” I turned to Willow, setting my purse on the counter. “Why do they call you The Beast?”
“That’s classified.” Her face didn’t move, and I wondered if she was serious or messing with me.
“It’s okay. I know you only just met me, but I will find out.”
She said nothing, remaining motionless by the door. Was she just going to stand there? Wait for me to…I don’t know what. Sneeze?
God. This was weird. Having a bodyguard was weird, but it was one of Graham’s nonnegotiable conditions. So I supposed I’d better get used to it.
“So, how does this work?”
“Ma’am?”
I scrunched up my face. Willow couldn’t be that much older than me. Ma’am was way too formal and stuffy. “My friends call me Lily.”
“Hudson protocol dictates that I call the principal ma’am or Ms. Fontaine.”
I wondered what my family would think of this. Even if I had been on speaking terms with them, it was probably better not to tell them. I didn’t want them coming after Graham for his money. My family would look at Graham, and all they would see was what he could do for them.
Are you really all that different?
I wanted to believe I was. I considered the situation logically, reminding myself that Graham had been the one to approach me. He’d been the one to offer to fund the chateau. I hadn’t asked; he’d suggested it.
“Principal?” I asked.
“Our term for the client. It’s standard in the private security industry.”
“And your protocol…”
“Is very clear.”
I leaned my hip against the counter. “Even if I’ve given you permission to call me by my first name?”
“That’s correct.”
Alrighty, then.
“Can you tell me what else I can expect from our relationship?” I went to the pantry to get some treats for the dogs. They were easy to find—located in a labeled container, of course.
“The team and I have a suite down the hall. We’ll coordinate your schedule ahead of time as much as possible. If you want to go somewhere, text me, and I’ll be available.”
“Like that?” I snapped my fingers.
“Pretty much,” she said.
“Okay. Wow.” She took my phone and programmed in her number before handing it back to me.
“Any recommendations I make are for your own safety. I am discreet and professional and will try to respect your wishes as much as possible, unless they contradict your safety.”
“Got it,” I said. “Do you speak French?”
“ Oui, Mademoiselle Fontaine.”
I asked her a few more questions, testing her range and fluency before finally saying, “Très bien.”
That would certainly be useful when we spent time in the Loire Valley, and I was grateful that Graham had thought to request a bodyguard with that skill.
I thought back to my conversation with Graham at the airport. I didn’t think we’d said anything incriminating. But now that I knew Willow spoke French, we’d need to be more careful.
My phone buzzed on the counter, an incoming call from Jo. Willow told me to text if I needed anything before letting herself out.
I debated answering Jo’s call, but I didn’t know what to say. Last night, when I’d returned to our suite, I’d made sure that I looked a little disheveled. And then I’d told her that Graham wanted to spend more time with me, so he’d invited me to LA.
She’d been surprised but excited, especially when I’d mentioned that he was throwing a party and she was invited. That part was true, but it wasn’t the whole truth. The party was our surprise wedding.
Jo followed up her call with a text.
Jo: What am I supposed to wear to this party in LA? I don’t have anything super fancy.
Me: Don’t worry. We’ll go shopping when you get here.
My shoulders slumped. I hated that I was lying to my best friend. And I was going to have to fess up sooner rather than later, but I’d been stalling while I tried to figure out what the heck to say. But also, afraid she’d try to talk me out of it.
It was so strange to be back in Graham’s penthouse. Strange, yet familiar. The living room was such a contrast, with the large panel of windows that opened to a huge terrace with an incredible garden. I wandered outside, stunned by the lushness and variety of it. Flowers. Vegetables. Fruits.
Every inch of space was maximized, but it wasn’t crowded. It was impressive, and I wondered how big of a team of gardeners Graham had to manage this.
I lingered a moment longer before returning inside to explore some more. The furniture and decor were all very high-end but also comfortable, inviting. It was a bit like Graham—it seemed moody and brooding at first, but once you got closer, you realized that there was so much more than what met the eye.
Details were scattered throughout, and I leaned in to inspect an antique key with a plaque. Apparently, it had once belonged to the former palace that had been converted into the Huxley Grand Abu Dhabi. Gold-framed black-and-white pictures hung on the wall. Images of Graham’s family. His grandparents. A couple with three young children. I smiled as I studied the photo, easily selecting Graham as the grumpy-looking one with a mop of curly hair. What a cutie.
I continued down the hall to the guest room, smoothing my hand over the silky duvet. The room was so gorgeous. So opulent. It felt like staying at a luxury hotel, like one of the Huxley Grand locations.
And when I peeked my head in the bathroom, I smirked. The shower was stocked with Huxley Grand shampoos and conditioners. A Huxley Grand candle in the hotel’s signature scent rested on the counter.
It was certainly a huge step up from my bathroom at the chateau. I smiled to myself, wondering how Graham would react to those conditions. I supposed if marriage was a compromise, we were both about to make some accommodations.
* * *
The following day, Jo arrived in LA. She’d checked in at the Huxley Grand LA—courtesy of Graham. And I’d invited her over to his penthouse so I could break the news about my wedding.
“Wow. This place is insane,” Jo said, taking it all in. Queen V and Prince Albert trotted up to her, and she let them sniff her hand before petting them.
“Gorgeous, right?” I asked.
“Definitely. Not as cold as I’d expected. And these magnificent beasts—” She peered down at Queen V. “Aren’t you a pretty girl? Yes, you are.”
I laughed, though there was a nervous edge to it. We were off to a good start, but I had no idea what she was going to think of the fact that I was marrying Graham in less than twenty-four hours. I still wasn’t quite sure what I thought of it myself.
“Have you been comfortable at the Huxley Grand LA? Is your room okay?”
“That hotel is incredible. And the service, ugh.” She held a hand to her chest. “They gave me a suite. I’m being treated like a princess. If these are the perks of you dating Graham, then I am all for it.”
That was a relief, even if I knew she was teasing. But I was grateful to Graham for treating my best friend so well.
“And how would you feel about me marrying him?” My heart was pounding.
“Sure.” She lifted a shoulder. “If he makes you happy. I could see that one day.”
“What about tomorrow?”
She furrowed her brow. “What about tomorrow? Did you want to do something? Graham has his party, but otherwise, I’m free.”
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you. I’m getting married tomorrow. That’s what the party is—a small, intimate surprise wedding.”
“Very funny,” she said, opening the door to the terrace and stepping out onto it. She shielded her eyes from the sun, totally unaware that I wasn’t joking.
“I’m serious, Jo.” I closed the door behind us, grateful that Willow was down the hall in her suite. I needed to ease Jo into this conversation, as much as I could anyway. And having my new bodyguard hovering was not going to help.
Jo turned to face me, her gaze searching mine. Whatever she saw there made her eyes widen in surprise. I could tell she had a million questions. She looked as if she might burst. So I was surprised when all she said was, “But you only just started dating.”
Instead of telling her the truth, I said, “He asked me to marry him, and I agreed.”
She sank down on one of the outdoor sofas, patting the space beside her. I joined her, hoping she would understand. Hoping she wouldn’t judge me.
“Why?” she asked, and I could tell that she was genuinely trying to fathom where this was coming from. “And don’t tell me you love him. I know you, Lil. You might admire and respect Graham, but you don’t love him.”
“Aren’t admiration and respect a good foundation for marriage?” I asked, doing my best to avoid admitting the real reason.
She leveled me with a flat look. “And the real reason?”
“Why else?” I lifted my shoulder. “Money.”
She jerked her head back. “For the chateau?” I nodded. “I knew it was bad, but I didn’t realize the situation was so dire.”
“It is,” I said, dipping my head to my chest. It really was. I’d made the best decisions I could, but it was still embarrassing to admit that I needed help.
“Even so… To marry someone you don’t even love. For money? That’s not you.”
There was no judgment in her tone, but her words still felt like a punch to the gut. A reality check. It wasn’t me. Or at least, I didn’t want to believe I was capable of using someone the way my family sought to use me.
“I’m running out of time and options, and Graham offered to help me save it.”
“Mm. And what does he want in return?”
“A wife.”
She narrowed her eyes at me. “Why?”
“He has his reasons.”
“Um, I’m going to need a little more than that. You’re planning to marry this guy. Marry him. That’s a huge commitment.”
“I know!” I blurted, then softened my tone. “I know.”
“So, he wants…a wife,” she said again. “But why does he need a wife so badly? And why you?”
“Why not me?” I asked, latching on to that as I hoped to bypass Graham’s reasons for marriage.
She rolled her eyes. “Come on, Lil. It’s me. You know I’m not going to tell anyone. I would never do that, even if I hadn’t signed an NDA that all but promised my firstborn.”
“I know you wouldn’t, but I also signed an NDA.”
“Jesus.” She dragged a hand through her hair. “Who the hell even does that? Makes their future wife sign an NDA.”
People with something to lose. Something to protect.
“Think of it more like a business arrangement. This is a marriage in name only. We’re both getting something out of it.”
“What are you going to tell your family?”
“Nothing. I’m done.”
“Wow.” She sank back in her chair. “You know what? Good for you.” Her support made my actions feel justified. I was done with my family’s bullshit, and I deserved better.
“Right? And maybe I should tell them—for the sake of my…” I cleared my throat.
“Business agreement?” she offered.
“Yeah, that.” I swallowed hard at the reminder.
“But I don’t want to. I feel like…” How did I explain this? “I feel like they don’t deserve to know anything about my life and my choices. Especially not if they’re going to judge or mock me. But I also don’t want it to come back to bite Graham in the ass.”
“Do you think it would?” she asked, and I knew she was trying to understand. Working with the limited information I’d been able to tell her about the reasons for our marriage.
I tilted my head. “I mean, maybe?” It wasn’t like I thought the board would dig into the details of our relationship. Why would they? “But I also worry that they’d try to come after Graham for his money.”
“Bleh.” She mimed gagging. Her face fell. “I’m sorry, Lil. That sucks. But also, I’m really proud of you for doing what’s best for you.”
I curled my fingers into the couch cushion. “What if marrying Graham is what’s best for me? Will you still be supportive?”
“I’m not going to lie, I’m concerned. This is a lifetime commitment. Don’t you want to say your vows to someone you love?”
“I mean, yes. Of course, I want to marry someone for love. And maybe I will someday.”
“So…” She squinted, thinking. “This isn’t a lifetime commitment?”
I tried to think of how to phrase it so as to protect Graham. Ultimately, I said, “I know I’m putting you in an awkward position, and I hate that I can’t tell you everything, but I need you to trust me on this.
“I do trust you,” she sighed. She placed her hand over mine. “I know you’re desperate to save the chateau. And I can understand that. But are you sure you’re okay with this?”
I appreciated her asking, but it wasn’t like I had another choice. And I knew Graham was good to his word. “I’m sure.”
She regarded me, perhaps searching for any hesitation or reluctance on my part before she finally said, “Even so, you have to admit this is weird.”
“He’s a billionaire. Weird, eccentric behavior comes with the territory,” I joked.
“I just have so many questions.”
“I get it,” I said. If our roles were reversed, I would too. I was just afraid I might not have the answers.