Billionaire Bachelor: Lily LaVae Collection (Diamond Bridal Agency) Page 14

  Sincerely,

  Mrs. Alveda Creed, Diamond Bridal Agency

  Morgan stared at the letter and laughed. Eloise Fontaine didn’t have a clue what she was getting into. She’d agreed to be a bride, but he had no intention of marrying her, ever. He wanted to be able to see whoever he wanted to, but at least his PA woes would be history.

  She would be matched to his exact specifications. He’d never been able to relinquish control of hiring to anyone else, and now he wouldn’t have to do it again for a long while. He’d spent a couple years’ worth of PA salary and a few hours of his life filling out enough paperwork to start a small country. But, he’d never have to do it again. He’d included a stipulation in his contract that she couldn’t leave for a year, that meant she couldn’t quit. If he fired her, or as he’d worded it in the contract, dissolved their relationship, she would get a small one-time severance.

  The DBA had almost failed him. They’d taken all of his break and he and the band would be leaving for their first stop on their next tour within days of picking her up. If he’d had to leave, there wouldn’t have been any way to come back to get her. He would’ve had to have her delivered to him.

  He’d made sure the agency kept his name private, because if Eloise had known who she was being matched with, she might have formed ideas, real marital ideas, before he’d had a chance to tell her how things would really be. Only a few more days and he could stop worrying about a PA and think about his next album. The weight off his shoulders would help the ideas flow, and that was worth more than what he’d paid the agency.

  4

  The front lobby of the Diamond Bridal Agency was chilly and Eloise tried to focus on that instead of the fact that the man who thought he’d be her husband would walk through the door at any moment. It had only taken the agency four days for them to not only find her match, but to arrange for him to pick her up. She knew nothing about him, but that didn’t matter. She would just give him a little taste of what he’d be up against if he brought her home and Mrs. Creed would be shoving that silence paperwork under her nose by the end of the day.

  The money they’d given her to buy clothing had paid her apartment and car for six months and she’d still had plenty to buy more clothes than she’d ever had before, with the help of the agency assistant. When she went to apply for jobs after this was over, she’d have the perfect wardrobe. This plan was better than any dream.

  “Miss Fontaine?” The secretary drew her from her thoughts and she strode over to the massive desk that hid most of the secretary.

  “Yes?” Her skirt suit was shorter than she was used to, and she kept wanting to tug it down a few inches.

  “The contract is here at the desk when your fiancé arrives, including your stipulations. Make sure you stop here and pick it up before you run off.” She laughed.

  Did women really do that? Were they so excited by a stranger that they forgot something so important, like signing the documents? “I’m sure I won’t forget.”

  The door pushed open and a man strode in. He was confident, so confident he came across as cocky. His dark hair was longer than expected and pulled back from his face. He was broad at the shoulders and narrow at the hips with a black leather belt, showing it off. He gave off the distinct impression that he wanted people to stare and so stare she did. Everything about him would draw her in, from his thick hair to the leather boots that screamed motorcycle bad-boy. He wore a plain white tee with a fitted suit coat and she could see his chest was heavily tattooed beneath the fabric that clung to him just right. Even though he’d come inside, he still wore sunglasses, keeping her from seeing the majority of his face. He strode up to her and propped his elbow against the desk. If this was her husband, she’d marry him every night for a month and twice on Sundays.

  “You Eloise?”

  She was a little taken aback by his casual greeting, considering the situation. “Yes, and you are?”

  He glanced from her to the secretary. “Got the paperwork?”

  The woman beamed up at him. “Yes, sir. It’s right here. Will you be needing a notary?”

  He nodded and the woman pressed a button behind her desk and spoke softly into her headset.

  Eloise snapped her attention to her fiancé. “Aren’t you going to at least tell me your name?” He might have been hotter than a Texas sunrise, but his lack of information and cold greeting set off all her alarm bells.

  “Sugar, it doesn’t matter what my name is. You agreed to these terms a long time ago. Today, you’ll sign the papers that are a compromise of what both of us said we want. Then, we go home.” He chuckled, but his face was solid, not humorous. There wasn’t anything about him that was relaxed, but she wasn’t either.

  Mrs. Creed entered through the doors that led back to the offices and shook Mr. Stranger’s hand. “Good to see you again. Let’s get this little formality behind us and get you both on your way.” She took the papers from the envelope and laid them out on the raised desk. “Now, of course you both are encouraged to read the documents yourself but here are the main points. Eloise, you must agree to stay with Mr. Turner for a minimum of twelve months.”

  Mr. Turner? That was a common enough name and didn’t tell her anything. Though he was hot, hot didn’t make a marriage and his attitude left her leaning toward her original plan. “And what are the ramifications if I don’t?”

  She’d thought he couldn’t get any more tense, but her words did the trick.

  “Should you decide to break the contract, instead of the agreed sum, you would only receive a small severance.”

  Severance? That sounded like a job, not a marriage. She scanned the sheet and the amount she would get if she stayed with him at least a year about had her on the floor. She’d never make that much in a lifetime. Could she suck it up and stay with a man for one year if it meant she’d never have to work again? She could if they’d included her clause in the document, the one she’d negotiated in case leaving proved more difficult than she’d hoped.

  “Mr. Turner, Eloise has stipulated only one thing. The marriage will not be consummated.”

  He grabbed the pen offered by the secretary and scrawled his name on the bottom. She couldn’t even read it. As she took the same pen, she hesitated, surprised by his quick response. She’d expected him to fight about her request. Most men she’d met loved sex, but perhaps he got enough side action he didn’t need her.

  If she signed, she’d better plan to be with him for a year. Otherwise it wasn’t worth it. She could feel the angst roll off him. The man oozed stubborn. After she scrawled her name on the line, she glanced up at the typed name next to his signature.

  Morgan Turner.

  Eloise gripped the desk as her knees turned to jelly.

  He knew the exact moment she read his name; was expecting the reaction he got everywhere he went. It was why he’d avoided telling her in the first place. At least old lady Creed hadn’t given him away. Mrs. Creed took out her little stamp and with a hearty thump her mark was permanently on the document. She then initialed, dated it, and gathered the sheets.

  “I’ll just give this to our lawyers and send a copy to each of you in the next few days. Mr. Turner, you said you didn’t wish for us to plan a ceremony for you, but do let us know if there’s anything we can assist you with. That is part of our satisfaction guarantee.” She smiled and shook first his hand, and then Eloise’s. She didn’t even seem to notice Eloise was in shock.

  “Do you need a stiff drink or something, think you can actually move so we get out of here?” He crossed his arms and glanced around them. There were cameras everywhere, he could almost smell tomorrow’s tabloids. The headlines ran in his head. Music legend picks up wife through the drive through…

  “You’re….Morgan Turner. The Morgan Turner?” She squeaked.

  “That’s the name my mother gave me.” Not really, it was the name his record label had given him and then made him legally change it. That had been before he was one of the hig
hest grossing recording artists in the world. Now, he couldn’t change it.

  Her crystal blue eyes met his and they were full of more emotion than he’d witnessed in a long time. “When I get really angry, I turn on your music and somehow, it helps.” She stared at him, but now it wasn’t with awe, it was compassion. “I don’t know what happened to you to make you feel what I do, but—”

  “I don’t write my songs. My base player writes most of them.” He lied as he strode for the door because he didn’t want an emotional discussion anywhere—and certainly not here. The wheels of her luggage clacked against the tile floor, informing him that she followed.

  He chuckled to himself as he pushed his sunglasses back up his nose. This might be easier than I thought.

  His driver held open the door as he climbed inside, then he grabbed Eloise’s huge bag, sliding the handle down as he went for the trunk. Eloise climbed in and sat next to him. She wasn’t what he’d been expecting. Her ears were small, almost hidden beneath her thick, almost white hair. The cut of it made her face tiny, almost delicate. He didn’t want anything to do with delicate. She was wearing a suit, and even though it fit her to absolute perfection, it didn’t fit her, either. She didn’t look like the type who ever wore a skirt. Her shapely legs were muscular, and he hoped she didn’t need to do too much running. Exercising on the road could be brutal.

  He drew in a long breath and let it out. Now that she couldn’t just walk away, he could explain to her exactly what he’d planned. Though, with how she’d about fainted when she found out who he was, he had to be careful she didn’t turn on him when she found out what he was really up to.

  “Now that you’re here, I need to tell you. I never planned to marry whoever the DBA set me up with.”

  Her pretty slender jaw dropped, but she said nothing. He’d kind of expected her to go off the deep end, at least a little. I mean, he was Morgan Turner. Didn’t losing him as a potential husband five minutes after she’d learned she had him account for anything?

  “And?” She said, tilting her head, waiting for him to finish as if he’d just announced where they would eat dinner, not that he had intentionally been vague in the contract so he wouldn’t break it when he didn’t marry her.

  “I filled out all of that paperwork so they would match me with the perfect personal assistant. I’ve gone through every hiring agency and private firm I can find.”

  “Wait, you want to hire me…for a job?” Her face broke out in a glorious smile that had him in shock for a change. He’d been the focus of many smiles, but none quite so genuine and none that bothered him so much. Why would she be so happy about not getting to be with him?

  “That was my plan.” He was still waiting for her to go nuts on him.

  “I can’t believe this. First, the money for my wardrobe pays for my apartment and car, then I got a new wardrobe, and now I get a job anyway…without having to get references and without having to worry about sex with you.” She laughed.

  He hadn’t thought about references, he’d just assumed the agency had done a background check and sleeping with him would be a perk, a major perk. At least, every other PA he’d had thought so.

  “Didn’t the agency make you fill anything out? I asked them to make sure you were trustworthy and could do certain things.”

  “I can do lots of things, but the only thing they ever checked, was my…health history.”

  She turned slightly from him, so she was facing forward and he couldn’t see her eyes.

  “Is there anything I should know about this health history? Since I’m your new employer, that might be important.”

  She smiled again and shook her head. “No. If we aren’t actually getting married. My health is just fine.”

  He stared at her, wondering if she had some sort of STD or what could possibly make her answer like that. Mrs. Creed would be getting a call in the morning before they left town so he could find out exactly what Eloise was hiding.

  5

  The old lady at the DBA had given him a phone number to contact her when he’d told her he’d be leaving on tour. It wasn’t like he could just fly to see her at will. He let the phone ring a few times and she picked up.

  “Yes?” Her voice held the slight hint of surprise.

  “This is Morgan Turner. What kind of health concerns should I have about…my bride?” He practically spat the words. Eloise hadn’t argued with him at all the night before. She accepted that she’d have a bunk in his tour bus, almost no privacy, and couldn’t quit without sacrificing a ton of money. He’d been so used to his PAs fighting with him that it had seemed like an incredibly boring evening—a disappointment—considering he’d brought home a bride. He also couldn’t get that blasted smile out of his head. It had been beautiful, innocent. Why did she keep showing him things he was sure he didn’t want, yet couldn’t stop thinking about? Delicacy and innocence had no business on his bus.

  “Mr. Turner. You said you didn’t care about her health or any other matter as long as she could perform the duties you requested. I assure you, she can. All things considered, I really can’t tell you anything else. There are privacy laws…”

  “That’s not what I asked, Mrs. Creed. Need I remind you that you promised my satisfaction?”

  She huffed over the phone. “It’s far too late in the process for you to be concerned about these issues. I can’t change her past.”

  A sick dread knocked him in the gut. It was just his luck. He finally found a PA who didn’t argue with every breath he took and she probably had cancer or something. “Out with it.”

  The silence on the other end was as deafening as one of his concerts. She took a deep breath, then let it out. “We generally only take virgins, but you were a tough case to manage. You had some interesting qualifications, which made us consider every applicant. Even ones we would normally serve a silence contract and send on their way. So, when Eloise came in and she matched, with the exception of the fact that she was not a virgin…”

  Her delicate, innocent features flashed before him, and he just couldn’t see it. He couldn’t picture her with anyone, even trying made him tense in the shoulders and gut. “You and I both know that unless she has some type of disease, her past sexual activity has nothing to do with her health. Is she going to die, or is she pregnant?”

  The silence on the other end made him want to cuss her, but he’d learned at their first meeting that if he wanted to get anywhere with Alveda Creed, he’d best hold his tongue.

  “It’s not what she told us, Mr. Turner. It’s what the medical exam showed. Miss Fontaine claims to have no children, but that’s not what the x-ray says otherwise. It could just be that she has very maternal hips. And if you claim I told you this, I will call you a liar and swear I didn’t.”

  “Fuck.” He couldn’t have someone thinking about a kid left behind for months.

  “What did you say to me?” Mrs. Creed huffed.

  He’d lost it for a moment and was still having trouble with this new bit of information. “Sorry. I’m just trying to figure out how I can possibly marry someone who’ll be thinking about a child that she hasn’t admitted to anyone she has.” Not that he had any intention to marry her at all, but he did have to keep her around.

  He heard Mrs. Creed typing rapidly on the other end. “A quick check of her phone records shows me that the only calls she’s made, outside of employment agencies, in the last month are to a Dr. Edward Peterson. Perhaps he’s the father and she doesn’t have custody? Since she didn’t tell me, I can only speculate. There’s little else I can do.”

  He didn’t want to think about how in the world Mrs. Creed had access to Eloise’s phone records. Dammit, he wouldn’t think about it. If Eloise didn’t want to tell anyone, and they weren’t going to be married anyway, it wasn’t his business. She didn’t have any disease that would prevent her from doing the job and having a kid didn’t exclude her from work. But the idea that she wasn’t as innocent as he’d at first thought, bot
hered him. Bad.

  The tour bus, as Morgan had called it, was actually the most decked out RV Eloise had ever seen. She made her bed quickly, noting that the place was quiet. Morgan had to be off doing something. He’d mentioned the evening before that they would be taking off on the road soon— within days. He had this strange habit of saying something and then waiting, as if he wanted her to respond. She was still too shocked, unable to believe she worked for Morgan Turner to say anything.

  Her bunk was in a short hall that led back to his room. She only knew that fact because the night before—as she’d headed off to bed—he put his hands at her waist to slip behind her and she freaked out. She didn’t let people touch her. Not anymore. It had been simple. He was just a muscular man and there wasn’t space in the little hallway for two. She’d apologized for elbowing him in the stomach and he played it off with a short laugh, but the exchange had stayed with her late into the night. He had smelled wonderful, and the way his hands made it almost all the way around her waist made her shiver.

  So far, he was easier to work with than she’d thought he would be, considering how many assistants he’d said he’d been through. He’d told her he’d had trouble finding personal assistants and she’d read in various tabloids that Morgan was about the most difficult musician to work with. The tabloid had used the word diva, which had made her laugh, because he was certainly not. She almost hoped that her old anger had left and she could enjoy this job for a while. Maybe Ed was right. The DBA had been the right place for her—for all the wrong reasons.

  The door to the bus opened and Morgan stepped in. She had to get used to the sway of it under his weight and the change in the entire atmosphere when he entered.

  He nodded a greeting, but didn’t say anything.

  “Morning.” She brushed her hair behind her ear. “Is there something I can read so I know what you need me to do, or will you train me in?” She wasn’t quite sure what was expected of her. Since she’d signed on to act like a wife, not an assistant, she didn’t have a clue.