The Mail Order Billionaire (DC Billionaires Book 3) Page 7

  The door to the suite burst open, and Maxim saw Grace and Rita enter. In the distance was a face he’d seen in the lobby before entering the elevator. A man leaned against the hall wall opposite the room door. Strange since this was the only suite on this floor. He and the guy locked eyes. Maxim narrowed his gaze. He looked like he could’ve been from Degonia, but then Deanna filled his view. She wore a long coat over a white wedding gown that peeked out from the hemline.

  While Deanna and the girls made a beeline for the bathroom, Maxim opened his texting app. He sent a terse letter to his brother.

  I don’t need to be followed. I said I was flying home tonight, and I mean it. Call the dogs off.

  Your Highness, he said to himself.

  Maxim abruptly stood and walked onto the balcony. He took his place before the priest who had followed him out. The air was somewhat chilly but not too cool since he had on his tuxedo jacket. He removed the jacket and handed it to the greasy producer.

  “Nice shirt,” the producer said. “Traditional?”

  Maxim nodded, smoothing the simple, white, tweed-like shirt decorated with colorful lines that cascaded from his shoulders. Each of the two lines were hand sewn, showcasing the coat of arms from the Malenkov dynasty that had begun centuries ago. He cleared his throat and rounded his shoulders back. Not too nervous, which was good. If he were standing beside Leonor…no, he wouldn’t even be here. He’d run, just like he’d done before.

  He kept his eyes forward even as he heard the click of heels from behind. It was tradition to not set eyes on the bride until she came to the altar. He felt the warmth of her presence before turning to look at her. Wide were her eyes as they met his.

  They were really doing this. Marrying each other. Bonding their souls and bodies.

  “Let us begin,” the priest said rather slowly.

  Maxim cleared his throat. “Um…” Deanna’s eyes widened with fear. “If we could have the shortened version, that would be great. We’re supposed to be on a plane in a few minutes.”

  Deanna frowned, and Maxim’s heart sank. Weddings were supposed to be happy, romance-hazed experiences people remembered fondly and told their children and grandchildren. A flash of a camera momentarily blinded him. Rita chuckled from behind the priest.

  He would definitely keep this to himself.

  Maxim took Deanna’s hands in his. Hers were cold, but she didn’t shiver. He squeezed them and then slowly rubbed them between his own. He mouthed the words “It’ll be okay.”

  She briefly smiled.

  “Deanna Elaine Pearson, repeat after me.”

  Deanna vowed to love, cherish, and obey him through sickness and health and until death parted them.

  “His Royal Highness Maxim Nicholai Iulio Novak George—”

  “George?” Deanna blurted.

  Maxim smirked. “You didn’t know?”

  She dipped her head in embarrassment. “I did. I…”

  The priest cleared his throat. “Malenkov.”

  Maxim repeated the vows. Deanna’s face was stoic. What was she thinking? Did she believe him? Did he believe himself?

  They exchanged rings. “You may now kiss the bride.”

  “Finally,” Maxim muttered. This was the easy part. They’d already kissed, and it had been amazing.

  Their lips touched. He felt her drawing back. With one hand, he cupped the back of her head and wrapped an arm around her waist.

  For the cameras, of course.

  Rita and Grace cheered.

  He released her, thanked the priest, and then took Deanna’s hand and dragged her back into the suite. “We’ve got to go, now,” he said firmly. Deanna said nothing. She moved to her bag that was on the sofa. As she lifted it, Maxim took it from her. “I’ll take that, love.”

  When she remained silent, he stopped and stared at her. She looked back blankly. “You okay?”

  “Fine, thanks.”

  Umm… Whatever was going on with her, he’d figure it out on the plane. A nice soak in the hot tub would make it all better. “Good, let’s go.” He looked at her colleagues and nodded. “Grace, Rita, it’s been a pleasure.”

  They grinned, wagged their brows, and gave Maxim and Deanna cute waves. Maxim grinned. He knew what was on their minds.

  When he opened the door, the hallway was empty. Good, so that loiterer had gone. Maybe he was working for the show. He stepped out into the hallway and then turned to look for his wife. Deanna was embracing her friends—no, clinging to them for dear life.

  Chapter 10

  Maxim had been on the phone with the plane, his lawyer, and someone else all the way from the hotel to the private airport. Rita and Grace had to shove her away and out the room door before Deanna had finally commanded her legs to follow Maxim.

  This wasn’t so bad—yet.

  The ceremony was unmemorable, except for the fact that she didn’t have a clue who she was marrying. He had warmed her hands in his, which had been nice. And the words of encouragement he mouthed were sweet.

  It had all happened for her in a blur. A slow-motion blur. The words of the priest sounded like they were coming from some echo chamber. Her own voice sounded muffled, as did Maxim’s. The chilly spring air caused her skin to go numb, or was that the ice-cold dread from inside her?

  The only sharp image she’d seen were Maxim’s dark eyes. Once the vows started, they had never left hers. It was all she could focus on. The longer she stared, the clearer they had become. Was it strange that the warmth she’d seen in them was comforting?

  Within twenty minutes, they were on the tarmac. The limo came to a stop, and Deanna exited. In the darkness, the lights of the runway lit up the plane Maxim owned. Much larger than the usual private jets millionaires like herself used for travel. But he was a billionaire; of course he’d go big.

  Like the business magnate he was, he stirred people into action. They ran about dragging suitcases to the plane and confirming the current time and weather in Degonia. The control tower was in communication with the plane to give them first clearance.

  The nearer her feet took her to the plane, the larger it loomed in her sight. This was happening. She was leaving the country for Degonia. The television show had dispatched a film crew to the airport to document every step she took from freedom into the life of royalty. Maxim had also green-lit a crew to join them in Degonia.

  And no, he hadn’t asked for permission. He’d thought it best to get the crew on the ground first and ask for forgiveness.

  Maxim stepped up and reached back for her hand. She stared at his massive appendage.

  “Come on, Mrs. Malenkov,” he teasingly urged. “I’ll protect you. I promise.”

  “From yourself?”

  He laughed. “Can’t promise you that.” He winked.

  He had no idea how terrifying that sounded. She rooted her feet to the concrete.

  “Would you prefer I carry you up and over the threshold?”

  She shook her head. That wouldn’t work. Nothing could work anymore. They were married. She’d make the most of it and sleep with one eye open.

  Her hand felt warm in his, and he kept her steady as the wind whipped around them. She shivered when she entered the plane, its warmth shocking her system.

  “You look like you need to warm up. The hot tub should be up and running.”

  His face appeared serious as he set their bags down and turned to one of the stewardesses. He for real had a hot tub on board? He wasn’t just teasing her to keep her off-balanced? Deanna strode past the oversized leather seats, the filming camera crew, and stopped at a door. She opened it, and her mouth dropped.

  It was the room she would be sharing with Maxim. Dark red rose petals were sprinkled on the bed. A bottle cooled in the ice bucket on a nearby counter while soft, sensual music played in the background. And the water in the hot tubs was bubbling.

  Two hot tubs.

  They’d each have their own.

  Deanna’s rapid heartbeat slowed as the muscle k
eeping her alive relaxed. She could be hot and wet, just not next to him.

  “Do I know you?” Maxim spoke rather loudly.

  “No, sir.”

  “He’s part of the crew.” Deanna recognized the voice of one of the show’s producers.

  She closed the door to their private suite and joined the crowd. Maxim’s expression had hardened, and he stared at one of the boom operators.

  “Maxim?” Deanna asked. She came to his side. “What’s wrong?”

  Her voice pulled his attention away. He kissed her forehead. “Nothing. Okay, then. We’re off! You guys can stop filming now.”

  “Uh, not until we lift off,” the producer said. “If you two could wave at us from the door of the honeymoon suite and then walk inside and shut the door. That would be great. We already got shots of it.”

  Deanna looked away from Maxim’s prying eyes and moved to the door. She understood how this TV filming thing worked. It was about the buildup. Hyping what viewers imagined was happening. The producer would cut, and then she could escape from the room.

  She and Maxim waved, walked into the room, and shut the door.

  The producer yelled cut.

  “So, how did I do?” Maxim said, walking to the bed. He took a seat on the edge of it. His eyes studied her intently.

  “The room, you mean?”

  He nodded slowly.

  Deanna swallowed. “It’s lovely,” she croaked.

  He grinned and leaned back on his elbows. Was he purposely looking like something she could launch herself on to?

  “You still cold?” he asked.

  Truthfully, she was on fire. Like burning at the stake terrified and…on fire. “Um, no.”

  “No problem.” He had already removed his jacket since stepping on the plane. He began to lift his shirt over his head.

  “Wait!” Deanna held out a hand.

  Maxim peeked over his collar. “Hmm?”

  It was the first time she had really looked at what he was wearing. “Is this…traditional Degonian?” She walked to him and touched his shirt. Her fingers traveled down one of the stripes. She felt him tremble beneath her touch. Her eyes shot to his. His pupils were dilated nearly across the irises. She really had that much effect on him? He played a convincing playboy with sky-high walls. Had they begun to crumble? For her?

  “It is,” he said in a husky voice. He got command of his voice and continued, “My mother would’ve never forgiven me if I didn’t wear it.” His lids lowered, and the corners of his mouth followed. He allowed the shirt to drop over his abs.

  She sat on the bed next to him. “You miss her?”

  “How could I not?” he answered softly. “She was my staunchest advocate. Me being second-born and all.”

  “We could…talk about it. If you want.”

  He arched a brow and smiled. The mask he wore was back. “On our wedding night? You want to talk about my parents’ death?”

  “Not the best topic, but I would like to get to know you outside of what the computer told me.”

  He smirked. “I’m still waiting on the test results.”

  “The what? What do you mean?”

  “I requested a copy to see how we measured up.”

  Deanna stuttered. “Uh, I’m sorry, I thought Rita would’ve given it to you or your lawyer by now. I’ll call her—”

  “Stop,” Maxim said while laughing. He caught her hand on her way to grab her purse from one of the counters. “I don’t have to see it now. We’ve had a busy day. It’s probably still on Rita’s to-do list, but down at the bottom.”

  Deanna shook her head, disappointed. “No. That’s not how we operate. You should’ve seen the results before we tied the knot.”

  Maxim shrugged. “I was just happy your office called and told me I had won the rose.” Deanna gave him a dirty look for the comparison to the bachelor show. Maxim laughed. “Did I offend you?”

  “I take it you don’t watch a lot of reality TV.”

  “Honestly, I’m surprised you do.”

  “I don’t. I…just work for one.” She smiled at his chuckle. “It’s good money, and the social proof is amazing for my work. I have people coming to me with research funding, where before I had to scrape, save every penny, and beg.”

  “Now that, I respect. Hard work and dedication to your goal.”

  She arched a brow at him. “You? Work hard?”

  His eyes narrowed on her. He sat upright, his broad shoulder brushing hers. He pulled his shirt off, revealing a thick torso and eight wonderfully sculpted abs. Deanna pretended she didn’t notice the brown freckles dotting the slightly pale skin of his jutting pectoral muscles.

  “How do you think I can afford to pay for these hot tubs?” He wagged his brows.

  Deanna’s line of sight zeroed in on his hands, which were undoing his belt. “What are you doing?”

  “You’re welcome to watch.”

  Her eyes snapped up to his. He was grinning like a proud idiot. “I’d rather not.” She angled herself away but found him again in the glossy reflection of one of the cabinets above the bed.

  Maxim laughed. “I’ll leave that alone. But I can’t get into the hot tub fully dressed. I’d ruin the suit.”

  She closed her eyes to the reflection. The tightness of her chest caused her breath to come out shaky.

  “You in?” he asked.

  “Um, no.”

  She heard the water splash. When it settled, she thought it safe to turn around. Maxim’s large arms draped over the sides of one of the hot tubs. “Come on, why not? We’ve had a long day, don’t you think? Relax. Take the edge off.” He pointed to a champagne glass filled with a fizzing beverage and a small plate of treats that were positioned next to both hot tubs. “Have dessert.”

  She placed a hand on her rumbling stomach. How could she still be hungry?

  “I love dessert.” He winked. He bit into a strawberry, leaving only the leafy top.

  At least he didn’t mean her—or did he? Deanna eyed the empty hot tub. It did look inviting. The hot steam would help her relax and clear her head. She needed clarity to survive the rest of this trip. What would come next after the hot tub? She hadn’t seen any other bed on this plane besides the one she was sitting on. And Maxim didn’t seem the type to let her have it all to herself while he slummed it on one of the cushy reclining seats up front. He’d try to talk himself into the bed, just like he was trying to talk her into stripping and getting into the hot tub. If she appeased him here, then maybe he wouldn’t mind sleeping separately.

  “Deanna,” he said firmly, and then he closed his eyes. “I won’t peek. Get in.”

  “Is that an order, Your Majesty?”

  He opened one eye, his grin wolfish. “If that’ll get you in the hot tub, then yes.”

  When he closed his eye, Deanna sighed and reached around to undo the zipper of her dress. She really should’ve taken more yoga classes because her dexterity was ridiculously bad. “I…um…”

  Maxim opened his eye again. “What?”

  “You’re peeking!”

  “You need help?” He stood, all strength and steam. Deanna nearly gasped, until she noticed he still wore his boxer briefs. Maxim got out of the hot tub and jumped a few times on the rug in front of the tub, shaking off blessed droplets of water. He wrapped a towel around his waist and plodded forward. The steam from his body created a cocoon of warmth around her. “Turn around,” he ordered gently.

  Warm fingertips glided down the line of the dress that touched her skin. Heat pooled around the zipper, seeping through to her chest. He pulled the zipper slowly to where it ended at the lowest point of her back.

  Warm breath floated over her shoulder and up to her ear. “Done,” he whispered.

  “Thank you.” She rotated her head and met his eyes. “No peeking.”

  He smiled and closed his eyes. As quickly as one could shuffle out of a wedding dress, Deanna tumbled out and onto the bed with a yelp.

  “What’s happen
ing?”

  “Nothing. Keep your eyes closed.”

  He huffed and folded his arms. “Hurry up. I’m getting cold.”

  She went to her bag, her shoulders relaxing when she found a one-piece swimsuit. Grace, you’re a lifesaver. Deanna slipped on the suit, feeling more comfortable wearing it than her underwear.

  Maxim’s frame nearly took up the whole side. As she slid past him, her chest bumped into his elbow. He undid his arms, and the entire length of his forearms made contact with her torso.

  He chuckled. “What are you doing?”

  “Trying to get past you.”

  His hand playfully squeezed her hip. “Why didn’t you just tell me to move?” He turned to the side, facing her. Pecs at her eye level, she quickly looked at his face. His eyes were still closed. True to his word.

  Deanna slipped into the hot waters and moaned. Maxim laughed. “That good, huh?”

  “Yes. Very good.”

  “Am I allowed to get back in now?”

  “Of course. Sorry.”

  “Not at all.” He whipped off his towel and tossed it onto the bed. He settled back into the water, reclining against the custom headrest. His dark eyes stared intently at her, causing Deanna to shiver.

  “Cold?”

  Ugh. Did he not miss a thing? “No. It’s perfect.” He smiled knowingly. Deanna busied herself with fingering the treats on the plate. Fruit, pastries, and other desserts she didn’t recognize.

  “Delicacies unique to Degonia. Thought you’d like to try some.”

  “I would, thank you.” She took a bite of a cream-filled pastry and smiled. The thick cream melted pleasantly on her tongue. “Delicious.”

  “Glad you like it.”

  She’d better since they would be served to her for the foreseeable future. “Can you tell me what to expect when we arrive?”

  Maxim groaned. “I’d rather not.”

  “Why?”

  “I’ve been dreading this day since I set foot in America.”

  “You hate your country so much?”

  He flicked the water in his tub. “Hate is a strong word. I love it there, actually. Sometimes it’s a little too cold.” He laughed softly. Deanna figured that’s why he loved hot tubs so much, and it wasn’t because of the women he could fill them up with. Maxim sighed loudly. “You’re right. It’s practical to prepare you, although I’m not quite sure what we’re going to be in for.”