The Wife Situation: A Billionaire Age Gap Marriage of Convenience Romance (Billionaire Situation Book 1)

Same day

Iremove the cork from the Macallan scotch and pour some into my glass.

When Alexis enters, I hold up the bottle. “Would you like to try this?”

She glides through the living room, past the grand piano, like a figment of my imagination. When she’s closer, I notice how her eyes scan across the label and then up my body. She’s eye-fucking me again. That much is obvious. But I welcome it.

“Sure.”

I scoot my glass toward her and grab another. “This is strong. You have to be careful,” I warn.

“Fill it up because I have a feeling I’ll need it for our chat.” That twang in her voice is there.

Instead, I give her the bottle, and she pours it until the glass is halfway full.

“Damn, girl,” I whisper, shaking my head. “You might be fucked tomorrow.”

“I hope I am,” she says, swirling it around and taking a sip, not flinching. “Smooth.”

“You’re going to give me a run for my money, aren’t you?”

She sits. “You have no idea. I’ve already warned you once that I won’t make this easy for you.”

“I look forward to it,” I tell her, scooting the contract and pen across the marble countertop that stretches the length of the kitchen.

The yellow of the overhead lights makes her look like she’s glowing golden.

Her eyes are locked on me for a few seconds, almost as if she’s contemplating her life choices. But I can tell by the expression on her face that she won’t leave here tonight without signing because it would eat her alive.

Tonight, the two of us connected on a deeper level, a raw one, and I know she felt it. Weston is right. She is perfect. Knowing he said that to her was the confirmation I needed.

She flips to the back page and signs it.

“Alexis, you never sign a legal document without reading it. You could’ve just signed your soul over to me.”

“Well, Mr. Calloway,” she says, folding the packet back to the front page. “Did I?”

“Don’t be reckless, Lexi.”

“I know how an NDA works, Easton. Keep my mouth shut and don’t tell anyone about this.”

“You can’t tell any family members, not even your best friend.”

“It goes to the grave. I understand how to keep a secret. A Texan’s word is their life.”

Like a champ, she shoots back the scotch in one gigantic gulp, placing the glass back on the counter before filling it again. I shake my head and she smirks as I flick off the lights.

I turn on a lamp in the living room and move to the couch, staring at the city lights. I’ve missed the comfort of the diamond in the sky.

Alexis kicks off her red heels and sits beside me, facing me, with her legs crisscrossed. I stare forward, and she stares at me, but I don’t mind. I like being under her microscope.

As I lean back, I take a sip of my scotch, savoring it.

“Easton, seriously, are you going to edge me all night with this?” she whispers, leaning sideways against the cushions, impatiently waiting for me to speak.

I glance at her. “Edging is my favorite. But if I recall, you’re the one who likes to get lost in the moment. This is a moment.”

“You’re an asshole,” she mutters with a laugh.

“But you find it endearing for some reason,” I say.

She looks out at the city and empties her glass again. “I do.”

When she drinks, the little filter she has falls away. They say a drunk man’s truths are a sober man’s secrets. What secrets does she keep?

We fall into silence, and Alexis moves her hand forward, tracing the outline of the compass tattoo on my arm.

“This is beautiful,” she says. Her eyes scan over my ink, like she’s memorizing them.

I watch her, and when her eyes finally meet mine again, I speak. “I need a wife,” I mutter.

“Need is an odd word choice. Shouldn’t it be want?”

“No. Not in this circumstance. I don’t know how to say this … to fulfill the requirements of becoming CEO, I must get married before my fortieth birthday.”

“You mentioned your birthday was in thirty-eight days,” she says. “I was listening. Did you know that’s beekeeping age?”

“Not sure what that means,” I admit.

“It’s a good thing.” Her lips slightly part. “Being forced to wed is old-fashioned though.”

I suck in a deep breath. “That’s one of the many requirements my grandfather established when the company was formed. An invisible clock has been ticking down since I was old enough to get married. It was supposed to encourage us to start a family early and not be obsessed with our job.”

“Like how you are now?”

“Yes,” I admit.

“And he’s not Southern?”

“No. French.”

“Right, because then the expectation would’ve been eighteen with a baby on the way.”

Her finger continues tracing the outline of the compass. Her touch is intoxicating, but I try not to act affected by her closeness, even though she intrigues the fuck out of me.

“I don’t have any other options. The odds of finding someone to spend the rest of my life with within six weeks is astronomical.”

“A fake marriage is dishonest,” she says.

“Oh, see, it’d be a real marriage—at least on paper and in public,” I confirm, remembering what my brother said. “But I agree. It’s dishonest. However, thousands of people will lose their jobs in the next six months if I don’t take over the company. My brother will quit, and I’ll lose everything I’ve worked for. My hand is being forced. And I’ll do whatever I can for my employees, even go against my wants.”

“Which is?” she asks.

I’ve never told this to anyone I dated. “Over the years, I’ve refused to get married unless I was in love.”

That sad expression I saw in the Tower Penthouse meets her pretty face again.

“So, you’re making the ultimate sacrifice for your employees. And you say I’m a hopeless romantic.”

Our faces are close, and I melt under her as she continues to touch me. As if she notices, she pulls her hand away and clears her throat.

“So, let me make sure I’ve got this straight. You’ve refused to get married until you found true love, and now that you’ve got a month and a half, you’re like, Fuck it all. Let me marry this woman I’ve known for weeks.”

“Eight days,” I correct. “It’s only been a week.”

“I haven’t been counting, Easton, but you have,” she says. “I don’t know why you’re choosing me. There are a thousand women who would happily marry you right now and try to be the perfect wife for you.”

“And that’s the problem. I don’t want someone falling in love with me in the process. You don’t believe in love, and I need to marry someone whose heart I won’t break with this situationship.”

“And the expectation is?”

“Be my date to all social events, where you act like you’re in love with me while not falling in love.”

“That sounds easy. For how long? A month?”

“That’s cute. At a minimum, a year.”

Her mouth falls open.

“And after three hundred sixty-five days, I’ll present divorce papers and write you a check for a million dollars. Afterward, we can go our separate ways.”

“You want me to put my entire life on pause for a million dollars? I’m worth more than that, Easton.” She laughs, but she’s not joking.

“You’re negotiating?” I grin, but it wasn’t unexpected, considering she got the keys to one of my prized possessions.

“You’re a billionaire, and you’re lowballing.”

I rub my finger across the scruff on my chin, utterly impressed by her honesty.

“Oh, I almost forgot. You’ll also have to live here with me, and I’ll give you a hefty allowance to buy whatever you’d like. You’ll be wined, dined, and treated like royalty as your social life grows exponentially. Knowing that, name your price, darling.”

“So, I’ll have to act like you’re my everything in front of people, be presentable on your level of prestige, put my acting career on hold for another year because of you, and potentially hang out with a bunch of snobs at boring social events, where there’ll be too many leaders and not enough followers, right? And I’m sure that means celibacy because there is no way a man like you will let his wife fuck around. Not to mention the spotlight on me anytime I’m in a public space. Did I get that right?”

“Yeah. And you can’t fall in love with me. That’s the most important one because it will make things awkward.”

“Don’t worry about that,” she says.

“Oh, and about the spotlight …” I hesitate. “I think that’s already a thing.”

“Shit,” she whispers. “You’re right.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have approached you at th⁠—”

“Don’t you dare apologize for talking to me—unless you regret it?”

“I don’t ever regret anything with you. I’m apologizing because it wasn’t a moment kept between us only. Just promise me when you leave here tonight, you’ll research me. Naïvety is cute, but you need to learn what you can about me first before you commit to this.”

“One second.”

She lifts upward, taking her phone from her back pocket. After she types my name into the search bar, the articles of us immediately load. When she sees the photos, she gasps and zooms in.

“Well, no wonder you came up with this idea. Look at this.” She quickly scrolls through the pictures and reads a few gossip articles. “They’re convincing me that I’m in love, and I know I’m not.”

“The story is writing itself.” I repeat what Weston said. He was right.

“Are you sure you won’t feel guilty about this and regret it later? You can only get married once.”

I think about her question. “I’ll consider it a practice run with my temporary wife. A lot of people are depending on me right now. What about you?”

“I’m always up for an adventure, Easton.” I can tell she’s lost in her thoughts. “My price is fifteen million.”

“Eight,” I counter, holding out my hand, ready to close the deal.

“Twelve. Million.” She keeps her focus on me. “But I need to think about it.”

“I’ll give you three days.” I look down at my watch, thinking about those stupid chain letters that used to spread around when I was in boarding school. This does somewhat feel like a curse.

“Okay,” she whispers. “Also, you were right. This is a moment.”

We both bring our attention to the city lights. Her breathing slows beside me, and I’m lost in my thoughts. I don’t remember the last time I talked to someone.

“I think that scotch is starting to kick in, or maybe it’s the excitement from the day,” she mutters with a yawn.

“I can have my driver take you home,” I offer.

“Most guys would try to get me between the sheets,” she says.

“I’m not most guys, Alexis.”

“I’ve noticed.” She grins.

For a brief second, I think I see our future in her eyes, and that’s when I wonder if this is a bad fucking idea.

“A driver would be great,” she tells me with another yawn.

I stand and move to the kitchen to grab my phone from the counter. I call the transportation service to send a limo for her.

“Your ride will be here in ten minutes.”

“Or you could let me borrow one of the nine hundred cars you have downstairs. The Chevelle.”

“I could,” I mutter.

“But you won’t.”

“No,” I say. “It’s late and⁠—”

“You protect your assets.”

“Always.”

“I wouldn’t let anything happen to your car.”

“I’m not worried about the car, Alexis.” My phone buzzes, letting me know the driver has left. I stand and hold out my hand, helping her up. “I’ll walk you down. Let me grab a shirt and some shoes.”

She nods and wanders over to the built-in bookshelf that ranges the height of two stories. There’s a ladder attached to a railing. I glance back at her as I take the stairs to my bedroom where I slide on a T-shirt and some sandals.

When I return, her eyes soften.

“You’ve got a nice collection of first-edition, signed books.” She turns toward me, her eyes sliding up and down my body. “The way you can transform your entire look, you’re like a magician.”

I chuckle. “Look like a crypto bro?”

“Oh God!” She huffs. “Gross.”

“Yeah, I agree.”

“Question: do you like the theater?”

“Yes, quite a lot.”

She shakes her head. “Watch out, Easton. You’re checking boxes off my Dream Man list.”

“That’s the scotch talking.”

“You’re right,” she says.

We take the elevator to the foyer and pass several security checkpoints. It’s hard to break into Park Towers because of the extra security measures they have in place. It was one of the reasons I bought the diamond in the sky and why Weston purchased a penthouse on a different floor. He doesn’t stay often though.

“If your answer is yes, expect me to take you on many dates,” I mutter.

“Really?” She lifts a brow.

“Yes, I will spoil you with adventures for helping me. The world will fall in love with you, darling. My only regret will be not keeping you to myself.”

“Pick a truth or lie.” She meets my eyes with defiance.

“Truth, always.”

“Don’t try to break me when it comes to love. You’ll lose.”

Her words come out as a warning … or a challenge. But it’s a moment of clarity, raw truth. She feels whatever this is bubbling between us. It’s the only confirmation I need to know this isn’t one-sided.

“And don’t smirk at me like that,” she warns.

I keep the expression firmly planted on my face.

The doors slide open. We step outside and wait for my driver, but my eyes scan around the perimeter, and I spot several paps.

“Will you text me when you arrive home?” I ask, tucking hair behind her ear.

“I will. They’re watching, aren’t they?”

I lean and whisper in her ear, “Yes. Have a good night, Lexi.”

“Good night,” she mutters and pulls away.

“I’ll be waiting for your answer.”

She nods, meeting my eyes, then gently wraps her hand behind my neck and slides her lips against mine. I wrap my arms around her waist as her tongue slides into my mouth.

My body sings with pleasure as I taste the scotch on her tongue, mixed with her strawberry lip balm. The kiss deepens and we lose control, slipping into the abyss and losing ourselves in one another’s touch. It’s only a kiss, one that shouldn’t stir desire deep within me, but it does. Alexis moans into my mouth, grabbing my shirt in her fist, and I don’t want it to stop. The intensity of it, of her, nearly destroys me on this side wall as the inferno inside me rages.

“Alexis,” I desperately whisper against her mouth as she releases a ragged breath.

“I’m not sorry,” she says as the limo stops before her.

I open the door with swollen lips and a racing heart, unable to articulate my thoughts.

My mouth and body are on fire as I watch her move inside.

When she turns to look at me, she gives me a mischievous grin. “Three days. I’ll have my answer.”

I shut the door and stand with my arms crossed over my chest. The car speeds down the road, and I watch until it’s out of sight before I shake my head and laugh. If that was her putting on a show, unpredictably predictable, then I should guard myself.

Thirty minutes later, I’m sitting in the same spot I shared with Alexis on the couch, sketching the view. I flip the page and see the previous drawing was at the bar before she arrived. And a few pages before that, her reading at the park and the Tower Penthouse. Moments with her are already displayed in my artwork. Multiple in a week? This is moving quickly, almost too fast.

Afterward, I go upstairs and lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering if this is a mistake. Suppose I get in too deep and end up being destroyed, like my brother.

A handful of moving pieces have to come together for this to work; above everything, it must be believable.

My phone vibrates and lights up on the nightstand. I grab it, laughing at how I saved her in my Contacts earlier.

MY WIFE

I’m home. Thanks for a fun night.

EASTON

Anytime. Just know, I don’t wait for anyone.

MY WIFE

Love that I can teach an old dog new tricks. Next up, begging.

EASTON

I don’t beg anyone either.

MY WIFE

Your brother told me.

Of course he did.

EASTON

Good night, Alexis.

She reads my text message, but doesn’t reply.

I’m more than ready to play this game with this woman. I have been since the moment we crashed together at the W.

One year with Alexis Matthews as my temporary wife would be priceless.

She wants twelve million, but I’d pay twenty-four.

She’s the only one who can do this.