Escorting the Groom

"Can you interrupt Mr. Preston, please? Tell him it's his cousin, Lucas. It's urgent." I stalked around my townhouse with my cell phone gripped in my hand. The midafternoon sun shone brightly into the living room. As soon as I got off the phone, I was going out for a punishing run in the Boston humidity.

As if I could outrun what I was about to do.

"Lucas," James said. "This is a surprise. When was the last time I saw you? My wedding?"

"Something like that." I looked out the window, wishing I didn't need to have this conversation. "It's been a long time. How are you? How're Audrey and the kids?" The question felt perfunctory on my lips.

"Great," James said. "Our youngest just started walking. So we're still living in a babyproofed house, but we're getting there."

I felt a headache coming on. "How many kids do you have, again?"

James exhaled, annoyed. "Three, Lucas. We have three."

"That's a lot of kids."

"So what do I owe the pleasure of this phone call to?" my cousin asked, cutting right to the chase. "I'm sure you didn't call to chat about my kids, seeing as you can't remember how many I have."

"Right." I cleared my throat. "It's about my trust…" I let my voice trail off.

"If I remember correctly, it had some pretty specific provisions."

I winced. "Yeah. It's like yours—it's a generation-skipping trust. But mine has some interesting contingencies."

"Such as?"

I gripped my cell phone harder. "Such as… I have to get married before I turn thirty-five. Otherwise, my sister gets everything."

James let out a low whistle. He had no love for my sister, Serena. "That would suck."

"I know. That's the point."

"How old are you?" James asked.

"Thirty-four. And I'm not dating anyone. That's why I'm calling you." I took a deep breath. "I need the name of that agency. The one Audrey used to… you know. Where she worked when you met her." I couldn't bring myself to elaborate any more than that. James's wife, Audrey, was an escort when they'd started dating. It had been the family scandal of the decade, right before the one I had somewhat recently starred in.

"You're hiring an escort to marry?" James asked.

"You married one," I said, a bit defensively.

"That's because I fell in love with her, asshole," he barked.

"I didn't get in touch so you could pass judgment." I tried to keep my voice even. "I just need the information."

"When's your birthday?" James sounded as though he'd calmed down. And as if he was laughing at me.

"In three weeks."

He stopped laughing. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

I stared out the window, taking in my penthouse view. The Boston Common stretched out, picturesque and green, in front of me. "No, I'm not."

"Jesus, Lucas. Nothing like the last minute." I pictured my handsome, rugged cousin pacing around his office in Southern California.

"I've been going back and forth about this." I took a deep breath. "But I can't let Serena inherit all the money in that trust. It's billions of dollars." I winced as I pictured my sister running off between fundraising luncheons to squeeze in another Botox injection. "And I've just run out of time to meet Miss Right."

"I think this is a bad idea," James said.

"It's obviously a bad idea."

He sighed. "The name of the agency is AccommoDating. They're in the South End of Boston. The madam's name is Elena. Tell her I sent you. She always liked me."

"Why do I doubt that?" I quipped.

"Because you're not as dumb as you're acting right now." James was quiet for a second. "You're not really going through with this, are you?"

I coughed. "I don't really think I have a choice. I don't want to ask a friend to do it—"

"Since when do you have friends?" My cousin knew me and my work-obsessed habits too well.

"Right. I'm calling Elena. Wish me luck."

"This is a wedding I don't want to miss. You better send out the invites soon. My kids are playing baseball, and I'm coaching. We're busy, but I'll fit you in."

I promised to keep him posted before I hung up, scratching my head. My cousin, James Preston, had been a bachelor billionaire for as long as I could remember. He was also a real-estate mogul and a total prick. The idea of him happily married, with three kids and a babyproofed house, was baffling.

And yet, the inscrutability of his situation paled in comparison to what I was about to do.

* * *

BLAKE

"I'd like it if you'd stay," Ethan said, trailing his fingers up my arm.

I fell back against his Egyptian cotton sheets. "Of course I'll stay." Ethan was one of my regular Johns. He was funny and kind, and his apartment in the Leather District next to downtown Boston was gorgeous. He always treated me with a high level of respect, more like a treasured girlfriend than a hired plaything.

"Blake, I've been thinking…" He waited until I turned to him expectantly. "What if I put you up somewhere? Bought you a nice apartment? I'd take care of you, baby. You wouldn't have to work for the service anymore. I'd pay all your bills."

I ran my finger along his jawline. "Ah, you're sweet." I smiled at him playfully, trying to lighten my sudden feeling of suffocation. In some ways, it would be lovely to be Ethan's kept woman, to be able to leave hooking behind. But I'd rather make my own money and then retire.

And be alone.

His eyes pierced mine. "I mean it. A nice girl like you? You're the total package. Beautiful. Smart." He tucked a lock of my long blond hair behind my ear. "You don't need to do this anymore. Let me give you a new life."

Ethan was handsome, and he had more money than God, but he hadn't been able to find the right woman to settle down with. "Ethan, that means a lot to me, but I can't."

His brow furrowed in disappointment, but he didn't look surprised. "Why not?"

I sat up and started getting dressed. "I don't do relationships. Not anymore. But I appreciate the offer."

"Did somebody hurt you?" he asked softly.

"Once upon a time, they did." And no one else was getting an opportunity for a repeat performance. I shrugged and gave him a small, forced smile.

"That's a shame."

I nodded. "It is." It was a shame, but I couldn't go back and change the past. I just had to move forward, the only way I knew how, the only way I wouldn't get my heart broken.

Alone.

* * *

"This isn't your typical assignment, Blake." My boss, Elena, pursed her lips, which were expertly coated in her signature maroon lipstick. Elena was the madam and CEO of AccommoDating, Inc., the escort service where I'd worked for about a year.

"What's ever been a typical assignment? This is the escort business, after all." I raised an eyebrow at her. "You're going to need to be more specific. Way more specific."

She adjusted the collar of her sleek black blazer. "What if I told you he was offering you a million dollars?"

I opened my mouth then closed it, momentarily stunned. Holy guacamole. "I'd ask you what he wanted in exchange," I said, recovering. "'Cause it's gotta be something big."

"The client is Lucas Ford. Have you ever heard of him?"

Lucas Ford was one of Boston's elite CEOs, a technology billionaire. "Yes."

I kept up with business news, reading up on all the latest stocks and business reports. After I paid my expenses and took care of my mom, I heavily invested what remained of my income. I was saving for a future that did not include working as an escort, even though it had proved to be lucrative. "He's a technology mogul, right?"

Elena was pacing now. "Right."

"I read about him in the Globe recently. He's in his thirties. Gorgeous, too, if I'm remembering correctly." What I also remembered from the article was that Ford was a venture capitalist who routinely bought and dismantled other people's companies. He didn't do interviews, and he had a reputation for being ruthless. A former employee had said he had "no empathy" and ate up other companies in a "zombie-like fashion." After reading the article, I remember thinking that although he was hot, he sounded like a dick.

And now he was about to become my client. Great.

"He's very good-looking," Elena agreed. "He owns several technology start-ups. He's a billionaire from a long line of billionaires. His family, the Fords, is one of the country's wealthiest. They're old Boston-Brahmin money."

I twirled a lock of my blond hair, intrigued in spite of myself. "Okay… but what does any of this have to do with me? Why is Lucas Ford hiring an escort, and why is he spending so much money—aside from the fact that he can afford to?" He had to be into some seriously kinky shit if he was offering a million dollars. I shuddered.

Elena pulled down her thick-framed glasses to look at me. "He was referred here by his cousin, James Preston. Do you remember I told you one of our girls married her client?"

I nodded. "There was more than one though, right?" Elena often told us about her "success" stories, in which one of her working girls ended up marrying a rich client.

The madam shrugged. "It's happened over the years."

"So what about the cousin? This James?" I asked, nudging her back to the matter at hand. Cinderella stories were great and all, but I wanted to get back to the important part. About the million dollars. The million dollars would be much better than any fairytale—because then I would get to rescue myself, and my mom, and we wouldn't have to depend on anybody else ever again.

Because that never seemed to work out too well. For either of us.

"James recommended our service. Lucas doesn't need just an escort. He needs someone to…" She started pacing again, no longer looking at me.

"Elena." I was losing patience and my imagination was running wild. "What is it?"

She sighed. "Lucas has a trust. It's substantial. If he wants to inherit it, he has to be married by the time he turns thirty-five. And it has to last." She waved her hand. "I'm not completely clear about the details on the time frame. He mentioned something about a year."

I raised an eyebrow. "He needs a wife?"

"That's right. By the time he turns thirty-five."

Both eyebrows rose. "How old is he?"

Elena stopped pacing and turned to me. "Thirty-four and eleven-twelfths. His birthday's next month."

"So you want me to… marry him? Really soon?"

Elena nodded at me. She had the decency to look ashamed.

I, on the other hand, had no such decency. "I'll do it," I said immediately. It felt wrong—the idea of marrying some crazy venture-capitalist billionaire for money—but I refused to let myself think it through. That kind of money would change my life forever. And that was what I needed.

Desperation could drive you to do crazy things. I was about to be Exhibit A of just that.

I fought my nerves as Ian, my driver, pulled onto Tremont Street in the South End of Boston. I was rarely anxious, but this afternoon was proving to be an exception. I forced myself to focus on my surroundings. The neighborhood was picturesque, with neat rows of brick townhouses.

Ian double-parked my Range Rover and let me out. I groaned inwardly before I went to meet Elena and my escort, Blake Maxwell. Elena had sent me her picture; Blake was drop-dead gorgeous. Other than that, I only knew that she was blond, healthy, and twenty-eight years old.

And she'd agreed to marry me in exchange for a million dollars.

My heart was heavy as I trudged up the steps. My parents had drilled it into our heads, from the time Serena and I were children, that we had to comply with the terms of the trust in order to inherit the family fortune. Otherwise, the money would go to some distant cousins.

Serena had already married, thereby complying with the terms of the trust. She'd known exactly what she was doing when she married Robert and divorced him a few years later. She was officially home free, scheduled to inherit billions of dollars.

Unless I took half of them from her.

My mother had been adamant on her deathbed. Get married. Inherit the money and split it with my sister. My mother saw Serena for who she really was: a spoiled, snobbish party girl, interested more in the state of her manicure than the state of the world. I love your sister, but don't let her get all of it. Those were some of my mother's last words to me.

That was why I was here: to honor my mother's wishes. Had my sister been a more responsible human being, I would've let her have the trust. All of it. I had plenty of money of my own. But Serena only cared about parties, luxurious vacations, and spending hundreds of thousands of dollars on high-end filler for her face and high-end fashion for her closet. I didn't want to see her sink my family fortune into lip plumper, Prada boots and donations to her beloved college sorority.

Serena would completely lose it if she knew that Blake was an escort—which was the only thing about this predicament that was awesome.

I walked through the doors of AccommoDating's airy, bright office. A tall, attractive woman approached me, her short hair spiky and highlighted. "You must be Mr. Ford." She shook my hand firmly. "I'm Elena. We spoke on the phone."

"Please, call me Lucas." I nodded at Elena, who looked more like a high-powered corporate attorney than a madam. "I reviewed the contracts you sent over, and everything looks in order. I signed them an hour ago. And I wired the deposit money into the account per your instructions."

"I know." Elena smiled at me. "Please, sit."

I sat down, warily scanning the office for signs of the escort.

"After I take my agency fee, the rest of the money will go to Blake directly," Elena said. "In the interim, as stated in the contract, you are responsible for all of her expenses. Food, clothing, housing. Her terms are complete at your one-year anniversary."

I cleared my throat. "I had my lawyer add one additional term: if I'm satisfied with her performance, she'll get a bonus of another million dollars at the end of the year." I'd decided that was one way to avoid any drama or poor behavior over the next twelve months: offer my escort an additional monetary incentive to behave.

Elena looked stunned. She pulled her glasses down on her nose and studied me. "I'm sorry?"

"I'll pay her double if she does a good job. It's to encourage good behavior," I explained. "That means no excessive partying, no drugs, no boyfriends or extra-marital activity, and she has to be pleasant and appropriate at all times. She can't ever breach the confidentiality agreement. My family has to believe that our relationship is real. If she does all those things for a year, then I'll give her another million dollars. It's worth it to me—this is very important."

Elena opened her mouth then closed it, studying me. "I'll tell Blake that," she said after a moment. "She'll be thrilled."

"Is there anything else?" I cracked my knuckles, antsy, eager to be on my way. "I have meetings this afternoon."

"I'll make sure Blake's ready." The madam got up, hustled to the front desk, and handed me her card. "Please call me if there are any issues. I know that Blake is more than up to the task—she's a true professional, and this kind of money will be life-changing for her."

"Then it's win-win," I said confidently. Inside, I felt anything but. This is fucking crazy. What made it even worse? It was all my idea.

But once I made a choice, I acted on it. I followed through. That was how I'd gotten ahead in the high-tech industry, becoming a billionaire in my own right before I'd even turned thirty. I was a venture capitalist, and I was considered a ruthless one: I bought new companies and sold them at whim, never letting personal attachment become a factor in my business dealings. I rarely, if ever, doubted myself. And as I sat in the office and waited for my escort, I realized why: self-doubt was creeping and invasive, a choking weed wrapping itself around my insides.

I roughly brushed the doubt off, eradicating it from my mental landscape. This was just an unfortunate circumstance, a blip on the radar. I was hiring this girl for the greater good. She was going to help me, and I was going to help her.

And then I was going to get back to what was really important: running my empire. Alone.

* * *

BLAKE

Elena came hustling through the door, her cheeks flushed, as I put the finishing touches on my makeup.

"Are you all packed and ready?" she asked.

I nodded, gesturing to the luggage I'd neatly assembled over the course of the afternoon. Elena had let me have free range over AccomoDating's wardrobe. I'd packed gorgeous designer dresses, skimpy bathing suits, expensive jeans, and T-shirts, and of course, lots of sexy lingerie.

I hadn't packed a wedding dress, though. That was the one thing Elena didn't have. Lucas and I were going to have to figure that out.

I took a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves. I had no idea what sort of women my new client preferred or what his tastes were like. My earlier Internet search of him had come up largely empty, aside from the Globe article. There were items here and there about his technology empire, his latest start-up acquisition, and older photos of his proper-looking parents attending various society events. I’d found lots of pictures of his sister, Serena. She was stunning, with long dark curls and the figure of a Hollywood starlet. She appeared to be a lady who lunched, served on several boards, and attended what seemed to be an endless string of black-tie events.

Elena patted my hand, bringing me back to the present. "The client's added some terms to the contract," she said.

"What?" I asked, immediately suspicious. This close to so much money, I was waiting for the rug to be yanked out from under me—a learned response.

"An additional economic incentive." Elena gave me a reassuring smile.

I didn't want to get my hopes up. "Please tell me what you mean."

"Mr. Ford just told me that if you follow the terms of the contract to the letter for the next year, he'll give you more money."

A nervous flutter went off in my chest. It took me a second, but I finally recognized what the feeling was: hope. "Go on."

"This is big, Blake." Elena's eyes sparkled with excitement. "He said if you pull this off, and the family believes this marriage is real, he'll give you another million dollars at the close of the assignment."

I almost fell over. "Seriously?"

She nodded. "Seriously. You know I don't joke about money."

"Wow… just, wow." Two million dollars. For the first time in my life, I was finally going to rise above the poverty line. Not only that, but I was also going to get the actual hell away from it.

"He's waiting," Elena said. "He seems antsy, and he's definitely all business. Not exactly into small talk. But very handsome."

"Works for me," I said, grabbing the over-sized designer pocketbook I'd borrowed from the wardrobe and throwing it over my shoulder. The bag was new; I'd taken the tag off of it that afternoon. It had cost more than my monthly rent, which I found utterly ridiculous. But I had to look the part. I had to seem like a billionaire's fiancée, not an escort hired to pretend to be a billionaire's fiancée. My cheap plastic tote from Target wasn't going to cut it.

"Are you sure you're okay with this? It's a big commitment…" My boss's voice trailed off.

"Don't get soft on me now, Elena." I kept my tone light. The truth was her concern touched me. "I'll be fine. In fact, I'll be two million dollars more than fine. How many people get to say that?"

I'd already promised myself that if Lucas Ford was mean, or if he was dangerous at all, I would leave the assignment. Money was important, and I needed it badly, but my safety came first.

The money came a very close second.

Elena nodded. "I just want to make sure you'll be okay."

"You don't need to worry about me. I can handle this," I assured her. "It's just business."

She reached out and clasped my hand. "I know how much this will help you. You and your mom can finally get a nice place. Somewhere safe. But I mean it, Blake, if you have any second thoughts, call me. I'm here for you."

"Thank you." I smiled, trying to reassure her. "I'll be fine. And just wait until my mom hears about the money!" I couldn't wait to call my mom, to let her know that by the end of this assignment, we would officially be in the monetary clear. I would just have to get her to swear, up and down, that she wouldn't tell my leech of a sister.

Elena called our bouncer, Ty, and had him collect the luggage. "Mr. Ford's car is out front," she instructed him.

I watched as Ty grabbed the bags and headed out of the back room, carrying the clothes I would be wearing for the coming months as I lived out my days in a stranger's home.

A stranger who was about to become my husband.

* * *

LUCAS

A very bulky, menacing-looking man came out of the back room, carrying two suitcases, his biceps popping. He gave me a warning look as he headed outside.

"What?" I asked, standing up.

"What d'ya mean, what?" he asked, his voice as strong and heavy as his body.

"Why are you giving me a death look?" I prided myself on getting to the point.

He stopped and turned to me, not putting the suitcases down. "Blake's my girl," he said. "You hurt her, I'll come and find you. You break her heart; I break your face."

I nodded, crossing my arms against my chest so he could see my own biceps, which weren't quite as large as his, but came pretty close. "Well… okay. If that's all."

"Yeah, it is," he grunted, then carried the enormous suitcases down the stairs.

I cracked my knuckles again, but I decided I wasn't going to fight him. Not right then.

More movement extended into my peripheral vision. I turned to see a tall blonde come out, throwing her long hair behind her shoulder and smiling at me prettily. She took my hand firmly. "Blake Maxwell," she said, her voice throaty and pleasant. "Pleasure to meet you."

She looked even better than in her photo. I hadn't thought that was possible.

I shook her hand, absolutely dumbfounded by her beauty. "Lucas Ford," I said, somewhat stupidly. Her smile broadened, and I caught a glimpse of her white, even teeth. Jesus, she was gorgeous, and nothing about her looked remotely fake. I caught myself wondering what it would be like to touch her skin, to pull her against me.

Down boy, I warned myself. Jesus. We hadn't even made it through the front door, and I was ogling her.

Ogling wasn't part of the deal I'd made with myself.

"Well, I'm all packed and ready to go," she said, her voice gentle.

I shook my head as if to clear it. "Great." I turned to lead the way.

But there was nothing great about it. My escort was so pretty, it hurt to look at her. And I was going to have to marry this girl and pretend that it was real, all while keeping my hands to myself. Because that was one promise I'd made. In order to keep my exposure—physical, emotional, psychological—to a minimum, I wasn't going to sleep with Blake.

Not at all. Not ever. Not once.

It was going to be a long year.

* * *

BLAKE

The billionaire was cute. Gorgeous, actually, but with the way he'd fumbled when he saw me, he seemed almost puppy-like. I mentally breathed a sigh of relief—I'd been worried what he'd be like since I'd gone back and re-read that article. I took in his curly dark hair, green eyes, and the large muscles going on underneath his dress shirt, which was open at the throat. He was on the verge of being seriously sexy, but he practically tripped down the stairs as he led me to his fancy SUV. Ty was out there, watching us, a smirk forming on his face as he saw me work my magic on yet another customer.

Ty told me he'd come and punch this guy if he turned out to be a freak. I winked at the bouncer as I accepted Lucas's hand and climbed into the back of the car. My look told Ty, don't worry, I got this.

And here I'd been all nervous that I was about to be married to a stranger.

I settled into the luxurious leather seat next to my client. Lucas looked at me and smiled tightly. "This is… awkward."

"We'll be fine," I said. I reached over and squeezed his hand. "I'm thrilled about the job. Thank you for the opportunity."

"Wait till you meet my family," he said. "You might want to hold off on the gratitude. You're going to earn every dollar from this assignment."

"That sounds ominous."

"That was my intention. I'm the nicest one of the bunch." He trained his green eyes on me, and I shivered. A glimpse emerged of the intense CEO who swallowed other companies in a zombie-like haze. "And that's saying something, because I'm not very nice."

I looked out the rearview window, Ty disappearing into the distance. "Oh." My voice came out small. So Lucas Ford was a dick. "Great."

He smiled at me again, and I noticed that he had a dimple. Just one, in his left cheek. "I'll make an exception and be nice to you."

My nerves abated. "I'll make an exception and be nice to you, too."

His dimple deepened as he regarded me. "Blake Maxwell, you have a deal."