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

Same day

We stand close, staring at the tall mountain peaks. As her hair blows in the warm breeze, I can smell her strawberry shampoo and the sweetness of her skin.

Summer is my favorite season to visit Grand Teton. The wildlife is active, flowers are in bloom, and the temperatures during the day are perfect. The company makes it even better.

“What did you want to be when you grew up?” I ask.

“You first,” she says.

“CEO first. President second,” I admit.

“Your answer doesn’t surprise me.”

I snicker. “At one point, I heavily considered becoming an artist.” I pause. “Now, that’s something only Weston knows. Facts from the vault.”

Sharing the real me with her is easy because she never judges and she’s never shocked by my admissions.

“Really? Do you paint?”

“I draw.” I pull the small spiral notebook from my pocket and offer it to her. “I’ve never let anyone see these.”

She takes it, studying the worn cover, rubbing her thumb across the curled edge, but she doesn’t open it immediately. “Are you sure? It’s very … personal.”

“It is, but I want to share these with you.”

Lexi lifts the cover and starts at the beginning, studying each one like she’s saving them to memory. They’re all scribbled in black ink, beginning in January.

“This is your life in little moments.” Amazement fills her tone.

“Tiny but significant moments,” I say, and her eyes soften. “The highlight reel.”

“Easton,” she whispers after a few minutes, her fingers brushing over the pages as recognition meets her expression. “These are our moments.”

It’s the Tower Penthouse, her reading at the park with the flourishing scene around her, whiskey at the bar, our motorcycle ride together, the diamond in the sky, the yacht, our plane ride, and being here. It’s been eleven days, but these are the moments that count. It already feels like I’ve known her for a lifetime.

I’ve always heard this happens when you click with someone, but it’s the first time I’ve experienced it.

“This is … incredible. You’re incredible,” she softly says.

Then, she turns to the last one I drew this morning—of her lying in my bed with her back toward me. Dark hair splashes across the pillows. She makes filling the blank pages easy.

“You do this every day?”

‘Yes, since I was nine years old. I have thirty years of them,’ I admit. “It’s nearly 12,000 drawings on 3×5 inch pages just like this in the same type of notebook with the same ink pen. Some days I drew more than once.”

‘Easton.” Amazement fills her tone. “I bet it’s fascinating to see the progression of your skills and your life. It’s one of the most creative daily diaries that I’ve ever seen.”

“Maybe I’ll show you the collection one day, from the very beginning to right now.”

“I’d be honored,” she says. “I’d love that.”

I hesitate, wondering if I should share this with her, knowing I don’t want any secrets between us. No secrets means no future surprises. I want to share every part of me with her, even the ones that don’t shine like gold. “I started sketching because I couldn’t speak freely like other kids my age.

She glances down at the page. “Really? I’d have never guessed.”

I smile. “It took years of hard work and practice.”

“I can’t imagine how difficult it was to want to communicate and not being able to.”

“It was a fucking nightmare. It felt like prison because I knew what I wanted to convey but couldn’t. I was frustrated during my adolescent years, but I was determined not to let that stop me. Between my daily lessons, I’d turned to drawing because it was the only thing that calmed my busy mind.”

She nods and listens as I focus on the view.

“I just remember whispering a lot in my brother’s ear and he’d act as my voice in social situations. Weston was the only person I trusted. Still true today.”

“I understand why. He’s a protector. From the little time I spent with him, I could tell he has your best interest at heart.” She meets my eyes. “So what about now? Do you get nervous when you’re in front of a crowd?”

“Sometimes,” I say, realizing she actually cares enough to ask questions. “But I’ve learned to compartmentalize it, perform, if you will. More times than not, I’m uncomfortable. I learned that I can do hard things, and afterward, I sit in a quiet room and decompress. Overstimulation from social situations is very much my kryptonite.”

“I get it.” She bumps my shoulder. “You’re a pro. I’m amazed by your resilience. Not to mention your ability to stay consistent. Most people outgrow their childhood hobbies, but you’ve made it your life’s work.”

“I’ve never thought about it like that.” I actually feel relieved sharing that part of me with her. Lexi accepted it, accepted me and my vulnerabilities without judgment. She’s…perfect.

I return the conversation back to my original question. “That’s enough about me. What did you want to be?”

“Don’t laugh,” she says.

“I won’t.”

She lets it out in one breath. “I wanted to be a magician’s assistant.”

I hold back my laughter and keep most of it in. She bumps me with her shoulder.

“I liked the one who had knives thrown at her head and walked away, unscathed, like a standing miracle. When I was older, I wanted to be an actual magician but realized I didn’t have the skill for it.”

“Because you have bad timing and suck at surprises?”

She smiles. “How’d you guess? But I realized after a while, I only wanted to be the center of attention and be appreciated by an audience. Change some lives with my performance. I dunno; it meant something to me.”

“You do that now,” I say.

She shakes her head. “No.”

“When we went to Samuel and Heather’s engagement party⁠—”

“You did that,” she confirms. “When you enter a space, it’s like you suck the air from the room.”

“Not around my friends and colleagues. They’re as unfazed by me as you are.”

I can almost see the gears running in her head, but it’s true. That night, eyes were on her, not me.

“There’s a reason I chose you, Alexis. I hope, one day, you understand why.”

“Tell me now,” she pleads, her long lashes fluttering.

“I can’t articulate it yet.” I run my fingers through my hair. “It’s just this … feeling.”

“Yeah, I know what you’re talking about. Being around you is electric, like … you see me.”

“I do see you.” I stare at her, realizing the same current that’s tugged me under has its grip on her too.

Her cheeks heat. “I see you too, Easton.”

“I know. And there aren’t enough words in the dictionary to describe that, whatever the fuck it is.”

As a kid who barely spoke, I spent a lot of time studying people and their behaviors. It’s one of the reasons I’m a good judge of character. I notice specific movements, the way someone speaks or the dart of their eyes. Everyone has a tell, it’s just finding it. Cheap words don’t win me over, it’s a person’s actions that do.

Lexi is kind and has a good heart, that much I know, and I trust her.

She flips back to the beginning, which includes countless boardrooms, plane rides, stacks of papers, and random coffee in different mugs and disposable cups. I look them over as she goes through each page again. Then, I notice the pattern in the sketches.

“What is it?” She searches my face, noticing my shift.

My 2D reality transformed into a 3D world of adventure the day I met her.

My scene blossoms with countless details, memories I never want to forget when we’re together. Nothing is left out.

“It’s one of my tells.” I flip through the notepad, and she leans over and focuses. “Watch the progression.”

“There,” she says. “This is when it changed.”

The Tower Penthouse.

“The day we met,” I confirm. “About ten years ago, I went through each notebook because I was curious if I could learn anything from it. When my drawings became more detailed, a major shift happened in my life. I’ve never been able to pinpoint it until now.”

“Easton, you’re about to get fake married. I think this fits the bill for a life change.”

“Oh, it’s very much real,” I say.

But I know it’s deeper than that. It’s not the marriage; it’s her.

She studies me, her gaze lingering a few seconds too long before she looks away.

I focus on the mountains, too, trying to steady my racing heart. “I’ve worked beside my father for fifteen years. But I’m not the only one. A backup successor has been chosen if I can’t fulfill my grandfather’s wishes.”

“Weston?” she asks.

This makes me laugh. “I wish. He doesn’t want it. The man’s name is Derrick Petersen. He’s worked for the company for thirty years. My grandfather loved him. I can’t stand the fucker, and the feeling is mutual. He’s tried to ruin me on more than one occasion.”

“Why?”

“I’m the only person standing in the way of him taking over. I’m not sure if he’s aware of the marriage agreement in my family’s contract, he just knows he’ll be promoted if I don’t meet the requirements.”

She shakes her head.

“Weston told me this morning that rumors are spreading around the building that I’m on vacation with a woman. Two things that never happen, especially not in the same sentence. I’m telling you this because I need you to be prepared. The attacks will come. This man will do whatever he can to ensure he becomes CEO, and you’re the easiest target.”

“Attacks?”

“Rumors. Lies. Scandals. You being targeted is the only thing I don’t like about this temporary marriage. Being with me will be challenging, and some days will be much harder than others.”

She turns to me. “That’s life, Easton. There is one thing that’s bothering me, though. I want it to be known that if you meet someone you could spend the rest of your life with, you should pursue it.”

“No.” I adjust my watch. “You’re my new hobby, Alexis. At least for a year.”

She chews on the corner of her lip. “Trying to get under my skin?”

I lean back on the palms of my hands. “I’m already there.”

“Cocky as fuck.” A devious grin takes residence on her perfect mouth. “So, that means you’re committing to me in return? Did the contract specify that?”

“You should’ve read it,” I say, enjoying this conversation.

“I know.”

“Would you like to keep me to yourself?” I lift a brow.

Lexi meets my gaze. “I don’t want to share you, even if this is fake. Call me greedy if you’d like.” The words come out confident, like a woman who knows exactly what she wants.

“Mmm. Consider it done. I’m all yours, Lexi.”

“Good,” she whispers.

I stand, holding my hand out to her. She takes it, and I pull her to her feet; her chest presses against mine.

“I believe honesty is the best policy with us. I want you to know the truth about me, my life, and my family. People will try to destroy what we have—temporary or not. So, ask if you read or hear something that makes you pause. I have nothing to hide from you. The right, wrong, or indifferent. Truth always.”

“I trust you, Easton. And I can handle the bullshit. I grew up in a small town. If I can survive that, I can survive a year of being your wife.”

I tuck a few loose strands of dark hair behind her ear. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

A breath escapes her. “And I don’t want to be the one to hurt you.”

“Ah, right, my little heartbreaker. Almost forgot you were so fierce,” I say, creating space between us before I do something I shouldn’t.

I lead the way back to the Jeep, then open the bear-proof ice chest bolted to the back. Inside is a fresh bottle of Fireball shoved into the ice, along with a few sandwiches and water. I’ll have to thank my friend Philip for packing the essentials.

I hand a bottle of water to Lexi, and we drink. The last thing we need is to get dehydrated up here. It’s easy in the mountains.

“Ready to take the trail down?” I ask, dangling the key on my finger.

“Sure, but you can drive,” she tells me.

“Really?” I’m almost shocked as I open the door for her. We climb inside, buckling. Nothing happens when I press the ignition other than the dashboard lights flickering.

“Ha-ha, that’s a funny joke,” Lexi says, tightening her harness and repositioning her seat.

“I wish it were a joke,” I say, pulling my phone from my pocket to text Philip. “Shit.”

Her smile fades as she glances at her phone. The corner shows SOS, just like mine. She immediately turns it off, which is brilliant. She won’t waste battery.

“How far is it to the bottom?”

“Fifteen miles. On foot, it’s an extreme trail. We’d make it after dark, and I won’t fly in the mountains after sunset. It’s one of my hard rules.”

I grip my useless phone. I could use the emergency satellite option, but I refuse. It should only be used in extreme emergencies out here in the Tetons.

I try to imagine the different scenarios and don’t panic.

“Let’s pop the hood,” she says, unbuckling and hopping out.

The latch is under the steering wheel, and I pull it. The hood clicks, and Lexi stands on a metal step attached to the reinforced steel bumper.

“The battery terminals are corroded,” she says, shaking her head. “Do we have a wrench? Maybe we can loosen it and try to clean it off?”

After Lexi steps down, I take her place.

“I might kill Philip.”

“Me too,” she says as we move to the back of the Jeep to see what we have on board.

We have a small tent, a sleeping bag, and a toolbox with an axe inside.

“Reasons why I have trust issues,” I mutter.

Lexi checks the storage compartments and under the seats. “Any sodas in that ice chest?”

“No,” I tell her as she leans against the Jeep.

“Well, using that to remove the corrosion was our last hope. What are our options?” she asks.

“Hike down fifteen miles, use the satellite phone in the helicopter, and call someone to pick us up. Hike to the bottom and wait in the helicopter until morning. Or wait here because Philip will return for the Jeep when the sun rises, so he’ll find us.”

Lexi turns to me. “You swear this isn’t one of your tests?”

I hold up my hands. “This wasn’t planned. I had dinner reservations made for us at one of my favorite steakhouses in town. The entire back room was supposed to be ours so we could have privacy during dinner. I handpicked our steaks.”

“Aww, that would’ve been awesome. What time is it?”

“It’s a little past five,” I tell her. “Sunset is at nine. That gives us a solid four hours until dark.”

“Let’s not waste any time then.”

I tilt my head at her. “Wait, you don’t mind camping in bear country?”

“I should be asking you that question, considering our backgrounds,” she says, moving to the Jeep’s back storage area. “We have a tent, a mattress pad, a sleeping bag, an axe, a flint fire starter, one foldable chair, and a can of expired bear spray.”

I stand behind her, looking over everything. “Add four sandwiches, water, and a bottle of Fireball.”

Lexi turns to me. “You and these serendipitous events are going to do me in.”

“You nearly begged for adventures.”

She laughs. “And so far, you haven’t disappointed.”