Page 3 of Billionaire's Accidental Marriage
Grrrr, woof!
“I swear to fu—a snowball? You know the rules! Either cut it out or go outside!”
I sighed as my eyes closed. “Sure you want to come in?”
Michael chuckled. “Well, if quiet is what you want, why don’t you come back to my place with me then?”
My eyes slowly opened. “Can I bring my tamales?”
He grinned. “I was hoping you’d bring enough for the both of us. We can reheat them, I can throw down some vegetables and maybe a fruit salad, and we can have a nice, quiet dinner.”
“Snowball! Cut. It. Out!”
I groaned. “Do you have wine?”
He scoffed. “What kind of human being would I be if I didn’t have wine?”
I pointed at him. “Sold. Let me get some tamales, and I’ll be right out.”
“Change your clothes, too.”
I blinked. “Sorry, what?”
His head tilted to the side. “It’s obvious you haven’t changed your clothes in a couple of days. Change them. You’ll feel better. Even if it’s just pajama pants and a T-shirt, I swear you’ll feel like a million bucks.”
I sighed. “Fine. But, I’m getting a bottle of wine to myself.”
He chuckled. “Deal.”
Michael
I stared out the kitchen window as I cooked, watching Maggie silently sitting on my back porch. She kept raising the bottle of white wine to her lips, but I didn’t see her picking at the cheese and crackers I had set out. My estate was nothing if not quiet, but the fact that she hadn’t said a word since we had arrived put me on edge.
I knew she was hurting, but she couldn’t let that consume her.
“Your father was proud of you,” I murmured.
He really was, too. Every time her father and I got together—whether for business or pleasure—he always ranted and raved about how well Maggie was doing. He was so proud of her when she had nailed that full-time job at the spa, and he couldn’t stop touting how she was the only person who would be able to run his boutiques whenever he died.
And I had to admit, she had grown into a pretty impressive young woman.
I mean, she was lightyears away from the little girl I used to babysit. The girl who loved spraying shaving cream all over the walls and adored using watercolors on her father’s pristine marble floors in the kitchen.
I watched Maggie take a long pull from the wine before she wiped at her cheeks.
Things were about to get very hard for her, and not just because of her grief. With her father’s will already being opened and read, I knew he had gifted her those businesses. And I knew she was about to be thrust into a world she knew nothing about.
I have a lot to teach her in a very small amount of time.
That was if she even wanted my help.
I understood the position she was in as well. Unlike most boys who grew up rich, my father hadn’t groomed me to take over his restaurant empire. He had expected me to find my way in life and build my fortune through the blood, sweat, and tears he had poured into his legacy. But, when my father became ill, he painted a much different story. And I had to learn the ropes quickly before it sank me.
As God as my witness, Andrew, I’ll help her in any way I can. You have my word.
After sending a small promise up to her father, I took our food out back. I settled a plate of fruit and grilled vegetables in front of her before placing the steaming pile of tamales in the middle of the two of us. I exchanged her bottle of wine for a bottle of water, much to her dismay, and when I sat down across the table from her, we both gazed out into the endless expanse of my estate.
“I didn’t know you had a garden,” she said softly.
