The Mail Order Billionaire (DC Billionaires Book 3) Page 3

  Deanna ignored her. “He’s trying to get out of an arranged marriage—who does that anymore, by the way?”

  Grace hesitantly raised her hand. “Um, we do? We arrange marriages.”

  Deanna let out a growl of frustration. “Okay, okay. What I’m trying to say is it’s convenient for him. Marriage isn’t—or it shouldn’t be— about what’s convenient. It’s two people coming together—”

  “Who don’t know each other, love each other…” Grace rattled off the excuses on her fingers.

  “Aren’t you always telling us to look at the data?” Rita asked. “Well, take a look at it.” She held out her iPad. Deanna laboriously sighed and took the device. “You respect facts and data. Well, the fact is I have the data to prove to you this marriage will work. You don’t have to fall in love with him tonight—”

  “But at least try to fall in bed with him. Right on those abs,” Grace interjected.

  “What abs?” Rita snatched the iPad back from Deanna, who threw her hands up in defeat. “I didn’t see any—oh! Oh, yes. Mmm. Right on those abs, yes!”

  “Can I please see the data?” Deanna yelled.

  “Sure, sure.” Rita quickly handed her the iPad.

  Grace motioned for Rita to come to her. “I have all the pics up. Look.” Rita leaned over Grace’s chair, and the two of them murmured about which ones they liked the best and how spectacular Deanna’s wedding night would be. Who needs love with a set of muscles like his?

  Deanna ignored her friends and forced her mind to examine what her stupid algorithm had predicted. His Royal Highness Maxim Malenkov was her future husband.

  Chapter 4

  Maxim checked his watch. “Billy, do you think we’ll make it on time?” he impatiently asked his driver. He was never late for everything, and this was one meeting he wanted to be on time for—if not early.

  “Sure thing, boss. There’s some traffic, but I’ve got ya. What’s at this place anyway?”

  Maxim was accustomed to conversations with his driver about what he was doing and where he was going. He counted Billy as one of his closest confidants. The man knew his habits, knew his tastes in women, and—most importantly—was discreet. “I’m going to meet my wife,” Maxim said simply.

  “You’re gettin’ married? Whoop!” Billy threw up a hand.

  Maxim glanced at the visible rearview mirror. Billy had the biggest grin he’d ever seen on the old, scraggly face. Even the man’s heavily lined cheeks had some color to them other than burnt orange. “Uh-huh.”

  “Aww, man, your Highness. Congratulations!”

  “How many times do I have to tell you, Billy. Don’t call me by my title.”

  “But it’s a special day!”

  “No, it isn’t. It’s just any other day.”

  Billy’s brows came together. “How can you say that, Maxim? You’re meeting the love of your life! The mother of your future children. The woman who’s going to become one with you.”

  Whoa. Hearing all of that out loud suddenly gave weight to Maxim’s decision. He cleared his throat. “It’s a business transaction, Billy. Nothing more.”

  Love of his life? Laughable. She was someone who arrogantly claimed she made perfect matches. There wasn’t any way he was falling for a woman like that. She might’ve had the science behind her, but his ego was too large for a relationship to accommodate hers as well.

  Sex? Expected. But becoming one? That had never happened with any of the women he had been with. He couldn’t even remember all of their names. Although their marriage practically guaranteed he would remember Deanna’s name, he considered their physical union as a perk to the transaction. Part of the job.

  But children… That he hadn’t considered. Not once did having children with this woman ever enter his mind. He sent a quick text to his lawyer, who was on his way into Arlington, where Deanna’s office was located. Anything in the prenup about kids?

  He wasn’t even sure he wanted to have them. When he had heard about the Queen’s pregnancy, his first thought was one of pity for her unborn. They would be under so much pressure to perform. Probably more than Novak because their deceased parents—Novak and Ilia—had been passed the crowns when Maxim and Novak’s grandparents had retired. The country had been groomed to accept Novak and Ilia for decades.

  As he waited for a response from his attorney, he finished reading the concluding paragraph of Deanna’s latest research. She hadn’t done much publishing, probably because she was busy with her business and that television show. Which one was it? Married by Midnight? Maxim had packed a fresh tuxedo in case she’d already planned the ceremony to happen immediately.

  “You young people today,” Billy remarked with a shake of his head. “You think you can enter into marriage lightly. It means something.”

  At Billy’s forceful statement, Maxim closed the portfolio his manager had created on Deanna. “You misunderstand, Billy, this is her doing. She’s some kind of love doctor. She has predicted one hundred and ninety-nine out of one hundred and ninety-nine successful marriages. We’re scientifically compatible. Trust me, I don’t go into this lightly.”

  Impulsively was a more accurate description. It was either this chocolate goddess or Princess Leonor. It was either his decision or his brother’s.

  Billy’s wrinkly face developed deeper gashes the longer he frowned. The vehicle came to a stop. “I hope you know what you’re doing, sir.”

  “Don’t get out. Thanks, Billy. Wait right here. It might be a while, but I have a feeling we’ll be going to dinner.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll wait right here.” He pointed downward.

  Maxim opened his own door before his security detail even made it to the car. He was usually quicker than they were. Although he trusted the team’s abilities, he was the second-born prince of a nearly bankrupt country. Nobody cared about him.

  Maxim straightened his shoulders and tugged at his suit jacket, even though the tailored cut fit perfectly. He blew out a breath and entered the building.

  A pair of completely opposite-looking women met him at the elevator doors when it opened. They both looked fresh out of college. One was probably in a punk band, and the other likely still played with dolls.

  “Welcome,” the dollish girl said. She held out her hand. “I’m Grace, and this is Rita. We work with Dr. Deanna Pearson. So glad to meet you, Your Royal Highness.” She curtsied.

  The punk girl rolled her eyes.

  “It’s Maxim, and the pleasure is mine.” He obligatorily kissed her cold hand. She sputtered a giggle and then contained herself. The punk girl yanked the girl’s arm back.

  “Okay, give him some room. Like she said, I’m Rita. And I’m not bowing. We’re on American soil, and we do things differently here. I like your accent, though, I’ll give you that.”

  Maxim grinned. He liked this one. Even though she tried to pull her hand back before he kissed it, he managed to keep a firm grip on it and drop a light peck onto the top of her hand. Rita snatched it back and quickly turned her face away, but not before Maxim caught the blush on her cheeks.

  “Dr. Pearson?” he asked while looking around the entryway. The soft yellows, greens, and blues in the flowers, throw pillows, and paintings on the walls gave a sense of calm. It was wasted on him as he felt zero nervous energy beyond wanting to arrive on time. True to Billy’s word, they were punctual.

  He was led into a small office with the same pastel-colored walls, clean white furniture, and demure furnishings. He and his lawyer took a seat. “My attorney has drawn up a prenup that—”

  “Prenup?” Grace looked at Rita. “Um, we don’t—”

  “Prenup is fine,” Rita cut her off. “Let me see.” She held her hand out for the paperwork.

  Maxim started again. “Like I was saying, the prenup outlines what she can expect when our union dissolves and—”

  Grace laughed, and even Rita shook her head. “It won’t dissolve,” Grace said sweetly. “You two are perfectly matched. She has a
one hundred percent success rate.”

  Maxim’s attorney snorted. He dipped his head apologetically at Maxim’s hard stare. “I acknowledge that success. However, Dr. Pearson has been in business for less than ten years. The people who married…yesterday, for example, I would hardly call a success.”

  “What are you doing here, then?” Rita asked sharply. “May I remind you that you sent her a letter practically begging her to marry you so you wouldn’t be forced to marry some princess.” Grace gasped and covered her mouth with her hands while Rita pointed a finger at Maxim. “I looked you up, buddy. That Princess Leonor is hot—by anyone’s standard. I do not feel sorry for you.”

  Maxim smiled patiently. “It’s true, I did write that letter, and I am in need of a wife. But you have to understand my caution.” He gestured to the prenup Rita had dropped on the desk. “The terms are very fair.”

  “She has her own money. She doesn’t need yours,” Rita said.

  “Good. But if…” He swallowed, having a hard time vocalizing a future impossible to see. “If children come from our…union, then they will be taken care of.” He cleared his throat rather loudly. “Could I have some water, please?”

  Grace shot up. “Of course! Sorry, Your High—I mean, Maxim. I should’ve offered you that when you first came in.”

  She was distracted; he could forgive her.

  “Perhaps some hot tea as well? We have coffee.”

  “Water is fine.”

  “You plan on kidnapping the kids to your country too?” Rita asked. Her eyes continued to scan the prenup.

  Maxim laughed. “Hardly. I’m not opposed to remain here in America. I’ve been living in DC for the last couple of years. It’s become a second home to me.”

  “I’m sorry, are you an attorney?” Maxim’s attorney asked.

  Rita’s eyes shot up. “Among other things. I’m also lead researcher here. Why?”

  “Er, no reason. Please, continue.”

  Rita thanked him with a sardonic, closed-lipped smile.

  “I know this seems quite business-like, but I still haven’t met her.”

  “You will.” Grace handed Maxim a chilled glass of water. “You’ll love her, too. The data doesn’t lie.” She took her seat again. “All of our couples are continuously polled and participate in follow-up sessions with counselors. They are all very, very happy.” Her brown eyes twinkled her love of romance. “Have you ever been very, very happy, Maxim?”

  Short answer? No. Well, whenever he was in his hot tub with a gorgeous model on his lap, with the duties of his country miles and miles away, he was quite content. But very, very happy?

  “Since Dr. Pearson has her own agenda for this marriage, might I suggest a very public dinner? Paparazzi follow me around quite regularly. She’s probably attracted more attention than before. I believe it’ll help her cause.”

  Rita nodded. “Very considerate. Agreed. Are you prepared to marry her at midnight?” Her shoulders rose and fell quickly. “Kind of like the television show? Producers would like to film the segment for a very special June episode,” she said dryly.

  Maxim smiled. “My tux is in the limo.”

  “Limo?” Grace’s eyes widened. “You normally travel in a limo?”

  “I figured today it would be appropriate.”

  “Well, of course. If she’s marrying a prince…” Rita took the prenup over to a machine and began scanning the document. Maxim stood in deference to her, and she waved him back into his seat.

  Maxim watched the pages of the prenup disappear into the machine. Was Rita sending the prenup to Deanna? He casually eyed the room for cameras. Although he couldn’t readily see any cameras, he had the feeling more eyes were on him than the three pairs in the room.

  “What about your arranged marriage?” Grace asked. “If pictures come out with you and Deanna… Aren’t you, like, disobeying the king or something?”

  Very true. But what could his brother do from all the way over in Degonia? Deny him the crown? No problem. The future heir to the throne was due to be born in a few months. Strip him of his title? Brilliant. Then he wouldn’t be forced into any royal duties. He had his billions and needed nothing else. “My brother, the king, will…be persuaded that this is for the best.” Grace cocked a disbelieving brow. “Will I be meeting Dr. Pearson soon?”

  Grace’s phone buzzed. She read the message on the screen. She and Rita shared a look. Grace stood, as did Maxim. “Dr. Pearson will be right in,” Grace said.

  They rushed from the room. Maxim blew out a breath. Okay. That was probably the worst of it. His eyes shifted back to the door at the sound of it opening. His lips parted.

  Dr. Pearson…

  Chapter 5

  Deanna held her breath and walked into the room. Maxim’s picture looked nothing like the man who sat in front of her.

  Her eyes followed him up as he stood…and continued to stand. Good grief, he was tall. What did it say on his bio? Six feet four? The closer she came to him, the less of the room she saw. His torso filled her entire view. She forced her eyes to his face.

  The beard was still there. Trimmed neatly underneath the chin and around his mouth. She hated the look of messy, shaggy hair that fell over the mouth and dove deep beyond the shirt collar. His gray suit appeared tailored, with the cuffs at his wrists and no sign of a flood.

  Deanna believed a tailored, well-groomed man was the sign of discipline and drive.

  Her breath returned, and she held out her hand. “I’m Dr.—Deanna. Deanna Pearson.” Shoot. She started with her title. It was a habit, but Maxim was going to be her husband. She didn’t expect him to refer to her as Dr. Pearson.

  Maxim grinned. He took her hand and gently pressed his warm lips to it. “Deanna.” His breath whispered against her skin, causing her nerve endings to erupt; gooseflesh peppered up her arm. “My name is Maxim.”

  “Maxim,” she whispered.

  “It’s lovely to finally meet you.”

  “Likewise,” her breathy voice came again. He continued to hold her hand while she stood there stupefied. Why would this gorgeous cedar-of-Lebanon-sized god need to be set up? And with a love doctor who was only trying to prove a point?

  She slipped her hand out of his grasp and motioned for him to take his seat. She turned to go behind the desk. His hand touched her hip, and she yelped as he rotated her back to him. Her entire side was on fire. How large was his hand? She took a quick peek down and saw his fingers stretched around the curve of her waist. Her belly pulsated.

  “I’d like to sit on the couch, if you don’t mind?” His head angled toward the white couch near the office door. He leaned closer, his voice dropping to nearly a whisper. “The desk is so impersonal, don’t you think?”

  The longer she stared into his dark eyes, the more she forgot personal details like her favorite food, what she’d studied for her bachelor’s degree, her name…

  “Huh-uh…”

  What?

  His eyes scanned her face, no doubt comprehending the misfiring of her synapses. He squeezed her hip, guiding her closer to that ever-expanding torso. He spoke into her ear. “What was that?”

  Oh, for heaven’s sake, she didn’t know. Why ask her that?

  Instead of waiting for an answer, his hand slid around her hip and onto the small of her back, guiding her to the couch. He released her when they sat down, and the spell was broken. Lucidity returned to Deanna. She made a mental note not to let him touch her again.

  Except…the wedding.

  They would kiss.

  She would be done. Finished. Game over. If she couldn’t make coherent sense with the slightest touch, her brain would be utter mush when their lips touched.

  He still grinned like he knew her secret, his pouty lower lip teasing her with what was to come tonight at midnight.

  What had possessed her to do this? Was it pride? Did she put too much stock in her own hype?

  “So…” Maxim said, lifting his brows.

  He was wai
ting for her to speak. So gentlemanly. Or maybe he specialized in doling out delicious torture. “So. Yes, Maxim…” What was she supposed to say?

  Right. Her speech. She had spent the last hour practicing what she was going to say to him. Something about who she was, how the program matched them, when they would marry…and then…then, she’d forgotten the rest. If he wasn’t a conversationalist, then this whole thing was all for nothing.

  “I received your letter, and I was very happy to read it,” she said.

  “I was happy that you responded. I’m sure you’ve had a mountain of applications from men willing to marry you.”

  Deanna chuckled nervously. She had had a few. Some of them surprised her. In the end, she trusted the science. Maxim was the number one choice on an extremely short list of potential mates.

  Okay, so maybe his title did give him the edge. “What mattered was how the algorithm worked.”

  “Ah, the famous algorithm.” He relaxed back into the cushions and spread his legs wide. Deanna’s eyes shot to his muscular thighs stretching the fabric. She forced her eyes back to his face. Those dark eyes sparked with satisfaction.

  He had caught her staring.

  Great. This wasn’t going well at all. She wanted him to respect her, not just because she was a doctor, but also because she was going to be his wife. And here she was ogling him. Well, not exactly ogling. He was hard to ignore given his height, his build, the bass in his voice amplified by a really sexy accent.

  Their attraction quotient was the most compatible, if she recalled.

  “I’d really like to hear more about it, over dinner.”

  “Dinner?” she squeaked.

  He cocked a brow. “Aren’t we marrying in”—he glanced at his watch—“eleven hours?”

  He was right. There wasn’t much time to play around. “Oh! Yes, right. Midnight, yes.”

  “Good. I had hoped we could spend a couple of hours together—nothing heavy—and then get through everything else at dinner. How does that sound?”

  “Nothing heavy?” She pointed to the prenup on the desk. “So that’s just…”