The Billionaire's Convenient Bride (Billionaire Cowboys Book 3)

  The Billionaire’s Convenient Bride

  Holly Rayner

  Contents

  1. Jay

  2. Marianne

  3. Marianne

  4. Jay

  5. Marianne

  6. Jay

  7. Marianne

  8. Marianne

  9. Marianne

  10. Marianne

  11. Jay

  12. Marianne

  13. Marianne

  14. Marianne

  15. Jay

  16. Marianne

  17. Jay

  18. Marianne

  19. Marianne

  20. Jay

  21. Jay

  22. Marianne

  23. Marianne

  Epilogue

  Also by Holly Rayner

  Copyright 2020 by Holly Rayner

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part by any means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the explicit written permission of the author.

  All characters depicted in this fictional work are consenting adults, of at least eighteen years of age. Any resemblance to persons living or deceased, particular businesses, events, or exact locations are entirely coincidental.

  Chapter 1

  Jay

  Jay’s haunted reflection stared back at him from the window as he gazed down upon the glittering lights below.

  Brunswood wasn’t a town many folks outside of Texas had been aware of, at least until his parents had showed up, struck oil, and created Brunscorp. It hadn’t taken long for the place to skyrocket into a social hub as Jay’s parents had hired like crazy, and eventually, had the town running on their family name.

  His name.

  Jay sighed and glanced back at a pile of papers on his slick, mahogany desk. He narrowed his pair of stunning ice-blue eyes and ran a hand through his thick blond hair.

  Jay was in trouble.

  Not only was his company in danger, but he was in very real danger of having an identity crisis himself.

  Why didn’t they tell me?

  The question hounded him, his expression bleak as a knock at the door stole his attention from the dire information sitting on the desk.

  If he burned it, would it go away?

  “Mr. Parish.”

  Jay’s lawyer, Grant Hamill, stood at the door, and it was almost refreshing to see how somber the man looked. His expression perfectly matched Jay’s mood, which was important.

  He didn’t feel like faking politeness at the moment.

  “Grant. You might as well call me Jay. It would appear that I’m not entirely worthy of a formal address.”

  Grant stepped inside and closed the door behind him, discrete, as any good lawyer should be. He took a seat before Jay’s desk and glanced at the paperwork there.

  “I’ll admit that we have a bit of work cut out for us, Jay,” he said. “On several levels.”

  Jay barked out a laugh, and the sound was unpleasant. Jay hadn’t slept well in months. He hadn’t eaten or taken much care of himself. To sum his current position up, he was a complete and total wreck.

  Why didn’t they tell me?

  “This doesn’t mean that we’re out of options, Mr. uh, Jay,” Grant stammered. “I’ve got some ideas.”

  Jay strode to his wide, comfortable chair and plopped into it, his jeans sliding on the leather cushion as he leaned forward and stared Grant directly in the eye.

  “You mean ideas on how to bring my parents back from the dead so they can explain why they adopted me from a foreign country and then lied to me about it?”

  Grant blinked.

  “Or maybe how my company’s on the verge of collapse and hundreds of people that worked hard for Brunscorp are without their 401(k) because of some mistake that’s still under investigation? Which problem would you like to tackle first, Grant?”

  Jay’s tone was too curt, and he knew it. There was nothing for it, though. He was angry. With himself. With the world. With his long-deceased parents, who were in another world and completely unable to answer for their irresponsible behavior.

  Behavior that could very well see him deported.

  “Let’s start with the company issue,” Grant hedged. He reached into his briefcase and pulled out several files.

  Jay sat back, preparing to hear unsavory news. He’d gotten pretty good at hearing bad news, of late.

  “The investigation into the missing retirement fund money is ongoing,” Grant said as he sifted through some papers. He licked his thumb and turned a few more pages.

  After a while, Jay reached across the desk and swiped the pile from his lawyer.

  “Sir…” Grant protested.

  Jay held up a hand.

  “I want to see what it is you’re not saying,” Jay said.

  He thumbed through page after page of news reports. So many people were suffering because of him. Articles slammed his name as they told tales of the elderly at risk of losing their homes, unable to pay for their medical bills. If the retirement funds weren’t recovered soon, he could very well have blood on his hands.

  That fact alone was the main reason for the growing dark circles beneath his eyes.

  “It’s not as bad as it seems,” Grant said.

  “You’re a lawyer, Grant. I know you can lie, but I’d prefer if you didn’t.”

  “It’s not a lie,” Grant protested. “I told you, we have options here.”

  Jay tossed the papers onto his desk and picked up another document…the one that was the other end of a double-edged sword at his neck.

  “Immigration Services would like to inform you that information has come to light regarding your citizenship. If this is proven true, then you are not a legitimate citizen of the United States of America and will be deported. Investigations are ongoing, and will continue until all information is available. We appreciate your cooperation at this time,” Jay read aloud.

  When he finished, he cast his arctic stare at Grant, who sighed.

  “I’m afraid I’ve done some research myself, and their concerns are legitimate. You weren’t born in the United States, Jay. You were found in an orphanage in Sladovia when your parents were on a philanthropic mission. For whatever reason, they didn’t go through the proper proceedings when rescuing you, so they found ways to cover it up. It’s all in there,” Grant said, sliding a dossier across the desk.

  Jay stared at it, unmoving. In that manila folder sat the biggest lie his parents had ever told him. In fact, he wondered how much they had drummed up the “All-American” ideal. Jay certainly played the part. He’d played football in high school and college. He was tall, blond-haired and blue-eyed, like any number of quarterbacks and homecoming kings in the area. He’d grown up singing country music and eating apple pie and barbecue like any other good Texan, loving his parents, his community, and his country.

  Jay didn’t even know where Sladovia was.

  “What am I supposed to do, Grant? How long do I have before they come for me?”

  It was such a strange concept, being taken from one’s home. The only world Jay had ever known. His parents had left him a legacy of wealth and privilege, and the chance that it could all be taken from him in a blink was unsettling, to say the least.

  His anger at them pulsed in his veins, and he clenched his hands into fists to control it.

  “As I said, we have options,” Grant said. “I’ve found one loophole that might work.”

  That got Ja
y’s attention. He leaned forward, his anger moving to a back burner in his mind for the moment.

  “What’s that?” he asked.

  “Because of your, er, status,” Grant said, “you may be able to use that to your advantage. If wealthy individuals, such as yourself, spend an exorbitant amount in investments, the state’s governor will likely grant an investor’s green card with a path to citizenship.”

  “So, you’re saying I can buy my citizenship,” Jay said.

  “Yes. They do say that enough money can buy anything, Jay. If you set up your investments just right, you could secure yourself a spot in America without fear of ever being kicked out.”

  Jay considered that for a moment.

  “And how much would I need to invest for this to go through?” he asked.

  Grant rifled through some papers until he found a page peppered with scribbled notes. He handed it to Jay. His light brows lifted nearly to his hairline.

  “It’s expensive to buy American citizenship,” he mused.

  “Unfortunately, yes. On the good side, you happen to have access to that kind of money.”

  “Do I?” Jay asked.

  He tapped the newspapers with the retirement scandal plastered on the front.

  “Until we get this issue resolved, I can’t take that kind of money out without bankrupting the company. As it is, I might be the one that has to pay everyone back, and that will certainly empty us out for good. I’m at risk of harming my retirees, or being forced to lay off everyone that works for me currently. So, tell me again, where do I have the funds?”

  Grant swallowed as he realized just how futile that option was.

  “Well,” Grant said. He cleared his throat and glanced at the floor before meeting Jay’s unwavering gaze. “You could always get creative.”

  “Get creative,” Jay said. “That’s your advice? You don’t think you could get a little more specific?”

  “There’s always a third option. It’s simply a bit…delicate.”

  Grant cast a knowing look at Jay, who still wasn’t registering his meaning.

  “What’s the most common way to get a green card, Jay?” Grant prompted.

  Jay considered it, then frowned. Deeply.

  “No.”

  “Jay—”

  “I am not selling myself off in some green card marriage. Besides, who would I even marry?” he asked.

  Grant shrugged.

  “Not to point out the obvious, but I’m pretty sure there would be quite the line of young ladies willing to marry a young, handsome billionaire.”

  Jay stood and paced around the room. The walls seemed shorter, somehow, like they were closing in on him. He was going to need some air soon, but he wouldn’t leave without having closure on this conversation.

  “Yes, I’m aware. I’ve had gold diggers chasing me around all my life. I have yet to meet a woman that I can have a real conversation with, and even when I do, it always ends up with her wanting something to do with my money. I will not marry so that some woman can live a comfortable life, divorce me, and take advantage of my situation.”

  Grant sighed and collected all the documentation on the desk. He replaced it in his dossier and stood, looking back at Jay, who had all the appearance of a tiger pacing his cage, desperate for escape.

  “I get it. I do. But you’re not in a situation where you can be picky here, Jay. I’d say your best option at the moment is to find a willing bride, put up the appearance of a whirlwind romance, and seal the deal. The alternative is life in Sladovia. Is that what you want?”

  “What is Sladovia even like?” Jay asked.

  “I don’t know, but it sure ain’t Texas—that much, I can tell you. There’s no sky like the Texan sky, and I imagine Eastern Europe can be cold this time of year.”

  “Keep thinking, Grant. There has to be something else. There has to be another option.”

  “There are plenty of options. They’ll just take you a few years and a trip outside the country to select.”

  Jay glowered at his lawyer. He had told the man to be honest with him, but did he have to be that honest?

  “There have to be other alternatives that are fast and don’t involve me needing an exit strategy. You’re an Ivy-League-educated man, Grant. I know you can figure it out.”

  Grant shrugged.

  “I’ll keep digging for loopholes. Until then, consider the options I did find, okay? The 401(k) scandal could be resolved any day, and then you can get those funds back and make the investments you need.”

  “Or, I could be responsible and harm every Brunscorp worker—past and present.”

  “No one said getting into your position would be low stakes, sir,” Grant said, back to his formal address.

  “I’m wearing jeans, Grant. Don’t call me ‘Sir,’” Jay said through clenched teeth.

  “You got it,” Grant said. “I’ll be in touch when I have more information.”

  “Please do,” Jay said.

  Grant nodded, then made a hasty exit, clearly sensing Jay’s mood as his tension rose. His shoulders were like boulders against his neck, and he fought to lower them, to find his calm center, the place where he could handle everything.

  Jay could handle it. He had to find a way. He may have been born into privilege, but he was a hard worker with a sharp intellect. If Grant couldn’t think of a good way to get him citizenship, surely he could think of something.

  Jay gazed out his floor-to-ceiling office windows, where he lived on top of the world. Below him people bustled down city streets on their way to social engagements or meetings or errands. His office was right next to the largest park in Brunswood, and the street lights flickered on as the massive sky that cast the backdrop to every Texan city turned the color of bubble gum and blue raspberry—a swirling pink and blue that cast an ethereal glow all around.

  Jay inhaled. He stared out at the world with his breath held, finding control until his heart rate slowed, then he released the breath.

  It wasn’t that Jay didn’t want to get married. He wanted a family. That was something his parents had instilled in him from a young age: it was important to find love and hold it as close to your heart as possible. The love his parents had shared was one for the ages, filled with tender glances, laughter, and support in every endeavor. Jay’s parents had been a dynamic team, the American Dream. They’d started from nothing and had built an empire, and he was their princeling.

  His parents had always made him feel special, like he mattered. Like he was important. Everything he grew up knowing about himself, everything he believed about his heritage and who he was…it was erased. Gone.

  Who was he?

  Jay strode from his office, not bothering to lock it as he slammed the door behind him. The work day had been over for quite some time.

  And he was alone.

  Jay took the stairs all the way from the fiftieth floor. He flew down each flight, taking two strides to turn at each floor before flying down another set, his mind whirling with all the possible things that could go wrong, that had gone wrong in his life.

  He was in no position to feel sorry for himself, either. How did that look, when so many workers were suffering, and he had no answers?

  He growled as he flew down the last set of stairs and nearly knocked a man over as he tumbled through the lobby and onto the street. A few bystanders cast curious glances at him.

  “Sorry,” he grumbled as he set the man upright and headed home.

  “’S’alright,” the man replied. “You just take care of yourself, now.”

  Jay nodded. It was sage advice. If there was one thing he needed to do, it was take care of himself. Be honest with himself.

  Because if Jay was honest, and he truly looked into his heart, he wasn’t running from his office to get away from the bad news of his company. He wasn’t even running from the promise of extraction from the country. There were things even more upsetting to him than that.

  What if he had to marry a wom
an he didn’t love?

  Chapter 2

  Marianne

  “Have a good night, Marianne!”

  Marianne glanced up to see one of the accountants, Susan, heading out the door. She waved from her spot at the secretarial front desk.

  “You too! See you tomorrow.”

  Sometimes, Marianne felt like a robot.

  You too. See you tomorrow!

  Actually, it sounded more like a parrot in her head. Just repeating the same thing, every day, as she waited to go home and see her little girl.

  Zoe was the highlight of her life, and the reason she went to work every day. She was a little carbon copy of her mother, with green eyes and light brown hair. Raising a six-year-old alone was hard enough, but things had taken an especially difficult turn recently, and it didn’t appear to be getting better.

  Marianne frowned. When she wasn’t making pleasant small talk and scheduling appointments for the accounting department, she was chewing on her nails, silently fretting about how she was going to afford food for the next week.

  It was no way to live.

  She sighed, glancing out at the window along the far wall. A sliver of sunset appeared to be cresting the horizon, but she couldn’t fully tell from her vantage point. She turned off her computer and pushed in her chair, ready to cheer up by taking time to hang out with Zoe.

  Marianne pressed the button to the elevator and waited, hoping that no one would be inside. She was only on the fourth floor and could walk down the stairs, but before she took that route, the light dinged above the silver doors, and they swished open, revealing one solitary occupant.

  “Ah, the ‘Secretaries Anonymous’ meeting can begin.”

  Jeff Kyrie, the personal secretary to the CEO of Brunscorp, happened to be a friend of Marianne’s. She smiled and nodded at him as she stepped inside and took a place beside him, facing the doorway.

  “Tough day?” he asked.

  “Why do you ask?”

  He shrugged.

  “I don’t know. Every day feels tough on the fiftieth floor. Everyone up there is super uptight, and I have to constantly field angry phone calls from our retirees.”