The Academic Bride: Billionaire Marriage Brokers Book One Read online

  They walked through a private sitting room. The wall directly opposite the balcony had a built-in entertainment center, a big screen TV, and a set of shelves full of contemporary titles. Several magazines were fanned out on the glass-topped coffee table, and a huge leather couch faced the TV. The room was smaller than the great room downstairs, but it was anything but small. Nick moved to a door on the left and placed his hand on the doorknob.

  “This will be your room.” He swung the door open and stepped back, so she could go in first.

  Stopping just inside the door, Janel pressed her hands to her face. The room was beautiful. She had her own set of bookshelves waiting for her books, which sat in four boxes nearby. The window seat was a treasure aged to perfection, with beveled edges and an overstuffed cushion.

  Everything was beautiful, but it was the bed that caught her imagination. Big enough to hold a family of bears, the fabric swags and the mountain of pillows brought out a desire to jump in and never get up. While the room had a feminine feel with the deep purple accents, it was elegant and mountains above the dorm-like living she came from.

  She walked over to the bed and brushed her fingers across the velvety pillow.

  “Do you like it?”

  She looked up to see him standing in the doorway with his back straight. “It’s perfect,” she whispered.

  Nick’s shoulders relaxed. He came into the room and went to the desk, where a laptop sat, exactly like the one in his office downstairs, along with a pile of sticky notes and several expensive-looking pens. “I’d like you to take over managing the household staff.”

  “The staff?”

  “Two maids, a chef, a gardening crew, a plant guy, a pool company does the hot tub, and there’s a list of contractors I’ve worked with in the past if any repairs pop up. All the information is in here.” He clicked open a file. “You can read through it and let me know if you have any questions. I gave everyone the day off, so you could get settled in without a bunch of people around.”

  Janel nodded. “That’s very thoughtful of you, thanks.” She glanced at the computer screen, where a long list of spreadsheets and Word documents stared back. Let the work begin.

  Nick’s phone chirped. He pulled it out and glanced at the screen. “I really have to go. You can wander through the house and make yourself at home.” He waved his hand toward the boxes near the wall. “Unpack, grab some food. Whatever you want.” He put his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels.

  Janel went to the boxes and ripped the tape off the top of the closest one. When he didn’t leave, she asked, “Was there something else?”

  Nick ran his hand through his hair, messing it up just enough that he looked handsomely unpolished. Her older brother worked hard to get that look, and Nick came by it naturally.

  “I’m going.” He flipped around. She watched as his long strides took him to the door, where he paused and turned back to her. His forehead creased as he hesitated. “Bye?”

  She laughed and shooed him out the door. “I’ll be fine. Go.”

  He ducked his head and walked out. She waited until she heard his footsteps disappear down the stairs before she went back to her boxes. Looking around her room, she was amazed at the care he’d taken to help her feel comfortable in his house ... her house ... their house? Well, it wasn’t really her house, as her name wasn’t on the mortgage. And according to the papers she’d signed, it would never be hers officially.

  She looked at the bed. Still, this was her space, at least for the next year, and she loved it. The colors were perfect and she’d felt at home the moment she walked in. She paused as she placed a textbook on the middle shelf. If it was her room, then why did it feel empty when Nick left?

  Chapter 10

  Nick cringed as Brenda came through the door preceded by the smell of Chinese takeout. As she arranged it on the buffet table on the far end of the room, he checked his phone for messages or texts. He’d put it on silent before entering the meeting, but he wondered if Janel was waiting on him to eat dinner and if she’d call to find out what was taking him so long.

  It wasn’t like they had a history of sharing meals besides lunch this afternoon, or that she’d miss him. He just felt this pull to be at home with her. Perhaps it was because his father rarely missed dinner with the family. It was one of the ways his parents built a solid foundation for him and his brothers. Not that Nick’s current situation was anything like the marriage his parents shared. Still, that pull wouldn’t let him relax.

  Then there was that strange feeling he got as he left this afternoon. Usually he thrived on work; there was nothing more exciting, captivating, or downright interesting than development meetings like this one that focused on a chip that would allow a gaming system to coordinate with 3D televisions. Only this time, when he got the call, he wanted to blow the whole thing off and show Janel around his home ... their home.

  Blowing off his biggest client would have been poor business. Blowing off Mr. James would have meant an end to business. Whatever circumstances had brought the executive into town, they also meant Mr. James wouldn’t be back for a month. It was now or never, and Nick couldn’t afford “never.”

  His mind wandered back to the house. He was proud of the floor plan, having worked tirelessly with the architect to create a home that would accommodate a family as well as entertain large numbers. That’s why there were two rooms at the top of the stairs. Janel’s was actually the master bedroom. His room could be converted into two bedrooms, one for a boy and one for a girl. Then the family would have private space, away from all the distractions and noises, where they could just be together and do things like play board games or watch cartoons on Saturday mornings.

  As much of a playground as the rest of the house was, and he’d wanted it that way for when his kids were teenagers, the upstairs was his nest and he never let anyone but the maids up there … until Janel.

  The think-tank group lined up at the buffet.

  Nick pulled Brenda aside. “Will you call Janel and let her know I won’t be back until late?”

  “Janel?”

  “My—” He looked around to see who was listening. Charli had her head bent over the Mo Shu Pork, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t hear. “—wife. Janel.”

  “I don’t have her number,” Brenda whispered.

  “It’s in my contacts list.”

  “Right. I’ll let her know.”

  Nick took his place in the back of the line. When he settled in his seat with a full plate, Charli asked in a voice loud enough for the whole room to hear, “When did you get married?”

  Nick felt his face burn. Never ones for subtlety—indeed, she’d thrown herself at him on multiple occasions—women like Charli were one of the reasons he’d contacted Pamela in the first place. He was thankful he and Charli only had to work together when their companies collaborated on a project. Otherwise she was safely on the other side of the city.

  “Charli, you’ve got to be joking.” Darrin slapped his hand on the table and laughed.

  Nick cleared his throat. “Actually, I was married recently.”

  “I thought I spotted some new hardware.” Charli brushed her fingers over his wedding ring, and Nick had an urge to douse his hand in sanitizer. He settled for wiping his hands with his napkin.

  “Are you serious?” Darrin pointed his chopsticks at Nick. “If you went and got married without letting me throw a bachelor party, I am going to be majorly ticked off.”

  Nick held up his hands as if to say, “What do you want me to do about it?”

  “It’s not too late. We could do it this weekend.” Darrin perked up like a horse at the starting gate.

  Nick smiled. He could only imagine the type of bachelor party Darrin would throw, and he knew full well it wasn’t the way he wanted to start a marriage. He said, “Sorry, man, the ring is on the finger. You’ll have to work on Tray over there. He looks like he could use a night out.”

  Tray shoved an
egg roll in his mouth and lifted his shoulders.

  Mr. James, head of the partnering company, returned from making a private call in the hallway, and they were soon back to work. As the hours stretched on, Nick’s hope of spending the evening with Janel melted away like a snow cone on a July afternoon. By the time he drove home and climbed the stairs to his nest, Janel’s door was closed. He showered and changed as quietly as possible, hoping he didn’t disturb her.

  After setting his alarm, he fell into bed smiling. It wasn’t a bad day; he’d gotten married and sealed the deal on a new chip that was sure to make a lot of money.

  His smile faded. He would have felt much better if he’d been able to see Janel before he went to sleep to find out what she thought of the house and if she’d read over the household account information ... and maybe, if he was lucky, to see her blush just once more.

  Chapter 11

  “Janel?”

  Pulling the covers up over her head, Janel tried to hide from the voice that was bound and determined to ruin her few good hours of sleep.

  When Nick’s secretary called last night to say he wouldn’t be home for dinner, she’d asked, “Do you know what time they will be done?”

  “These meetings have gone on all night before. It could be an hour or it could be six hours. I’m sorry, I wish I had more information.”

  “No, that’s okay. Thanks for thinking to call me.”

  “Mr. Ryburn asked me to.”

  “Well … thanks.”

  “Have a nice night.”

  She’d tried to wait up for Nick, thinking that they should at least say good night to each other on their wedding day. She’d propped herself up in bed with the laptop to familiarize herself with the house accounts. There was a lot more to running the house than she would have ever thought possible. After an hour of checking shift changes for possible overlap, she decided Pamela should have found Nick someone with experience in the hotel industry. But then, Janel wouldn’t be lounging on half a dozen pillows in her own private suite. She gave a wicked little grin. The perks far outweighed the stress.

  Long after the exterior safety lights clicked on, making her view of the rear gardens enchanting, her wedding day caught up to her. She slid the laptop to the other side of the huge mattress and conked out.

  “Janel!” The voice was in her room.

  Trish.

  “What is it with you and waking me up? Do you hate me?” Janel threw the covers off her head.

  Trish waited at the end of the bed, her hair pulled back in an intricate braid that hung over one shoulder and her clothes completely wrinkle-free. The only thing worse than being woken up when you’re still tired, is being woken up by someone who looks that good in the morning.

  Trish ran her fingers over the pad resting in the crook of her arm. “You have a meeting with your personal trainer in fifteen minutes.”

  “Where?”

  Trish looked up. “Here.”

  Janel pulled the sheet up to her chin. Not that her pajamas were skimpy; she’d worn a light cotton pair of shorts and a fitted tank to bed. The idea of a strange man in her bedroom made her uncomfortable. An image of some guy holding her feet down while she did sit-ups on the plush rug flashed through her head. “He’s coming to my room?”

  “No, he’ll meet you in the gym downstairs. You just need to throw on some workout clothes and I’ll brief you on the rest of your day on the way.”

  Janel stumbled to the closet and pulled out a pair of cutoff sweats, a sports bra, and a t-shirt with a small hole over her left shoulder blade.

  When she stepped out of the closet, Trish made a face like she’d swallowed bad fish. “What are you wearing?”

  “Workout clothes?”

  “What happened to the yoga pants?” asked Trish as they left Janel’s room.

  “I wear those in public, I’m not going to get them all sweaty.”

  Trish clenched her jaw. “Okay, I will put ‘shopping for proper exercise attire’ on our list of things to do this week. And unless you are going to a yoga class, never wear those in public again. Got it?”

  Janel nodded absently as she craned her neck to see into Nick’s room. It looked like he hadn’t slept in the bed last night. A maid bustled out carrying the shirt he wore to the wedding, and Janel wondered if he’d slept at all or just changed clothes. Janel nodded a greeting to the maid as Trish started down the list on her pad.

  “You’ll meet with Steve, your personal trainer, every Tuesday morning at seven.”

  Janel bristled. Why should she have to work out? She was not a trophy wife; that wasn’t part of the deal. If B.M.B. was trying to turn her into one, she’d have a few words with Pamela. “Why do I need a personal trainer?”

  “It’s part of our ongoing services. We find that people who exercise are generally happier in life, they are better and more creative at problem-solving, and can participate in a variety of activities due to their physical stamina.”

  Janel paused on the stairs. “What happens if I get fat?”

  Trish looked over her shoulder. “Excuse me?”

  “If I get fat, do I get fired?”

  Trish’s mouth dropped open. “What? No.”

  “Then why do I have to work out?”

  Trish stepped up so they were on the same level and put her arm around Janel. “This marriage is as much about you as it is about Mr. Ryburn. You’re a busy student, you teach classes, and you’re planning a huge archeological dig in another country—you need to take care of yourself, and we’re trying to help. A personal trainer is a perk. You don’t have to work out; but you’ll be healthier and happier if you do.”

  Janel considered Trish’s words. It couldn’t hurt to get in better shape. She’d need to haul her own gear into the Guatemalan jungle, and she might as well be strong enough to do it. “Okay. This guy isn’t going to yell at me or anything is he?”

  “Steve will walk you through the machines in Nick’s gym so you understand how to work each one on your own.”

  Nick’s gym. Was he offered the same “perks,” or did grooms get off easier than brides?

  “On subsequent visits he’ll teach you different types of workouts so you don’t get bored.”

  “Uh-huh. Does Nick work out?”

  Trish didn’t miss a step. “He alternates weightlifting and running.”

  Janel remembered the way Nick’s suit fit, and his broad shoulders. Yeah, he works out. She quickly changed her focus from Nick’s physique to Trish’s instructions.

  “Now, after your session, you’ll have time to shower and get dressed for the day. Then you’ll meet with the staff—Did you read the information Nick put together for you?”

  “Yep. Wait, how did you know about that?”

  They reached the bottom of the grand staircase and crossed the gathering room to the stairs that led to the basement. This level was just as impressive as the rest of the house. The theater room was located under the garage, the game room was insane, the gym was immaculate, the mother-in-law apartment was stunning, and a hot tub waited off the patio. There was also a bar, a pool table, a water feature, a reading nook, and a couple of guest rooms. Janel could spend weeks down here!

  “Standard procedure. Nick gave us a job outline when he signed up.

  “We’ll have a short break for lunch and hit the stores for some workout clothes. I have to be back to the office by three, so you’ll have some time this afternoon to input your school schedule into the system. I have a new phone for you.”

  Janel started to protest—there was already so much “new” in her life that she was off-balance.

  Trish held up her hand. “We kept your old number. The new phone is compatible with Nick’s. You guys can see real-time updates to your calendar, talk at the push of a button, and do a whole bunch of other things that I don’t have time to tell you about because Steve hates it when people are late.” Trish opened the door and motioned for Janel to go in first.

  Janel entered the
gym, took one look at Steve, and stepped backward into Trish.

  Steve was built like a locomotive. He had more muscles in his arm than Janel had in her whole body. She wondered if he took steroids.

  Steve smiled in welcome, and Janel thought her heart would jump out of her chest in fear. He looked at her like the mechanic looks at her car every time she brings it in—she was a lemon and he was about to make lemonade. At that moment, Janel swore she would never be late for her workout, because if that was Steve’s welcome face, she had no desire to see Steve’s upset face.

  The day went by quickly, and by the time Janel returned home with an arm full of shopping bags, she was ready to go to bed. Nick’s chef, Enzo, made two dinners, and she found hers in the warming drawer under the oven.

  A warming drawer was a luxury Janel never thought she’d have. It was beautiful with its stainless steel finish and easy-grip handle. She spent the next couple of minutes running her fingers over every surface in the kitchen. The long day listening to Trish give her the dos and don’ts of fashion was worth it to come home to this room.

  As she sat down at the table to eat, she realized she hadn’t heard from Nick all day. She played with her new phone, finding the text icon and debating over what to say. She finally just typed a quick hello and asked if he wanted her to keep his dinner warm or put it in the fridge.

  Fridge, we ordered take out. Thanks.

  Janel speared an asparagus and chewed as she read through his schedule for the next couple of days. He was booked from sunup to sundown, which didn’t leave much time for them to see each other.

  As far as employers go, Nick was pretty easygoing. The staff all seemed to like him. Since they were aware of the sleeping arrangements in the house, she wondered if they would resent her coming in and taking over, but she didn’t sense any hostility. They were good at their jobs, and as long as the quality of their work stayed the same, she didn’t foresee any problems.

  After finishing her dinner, a chocolate craving took hold and wouldn’t let go. Janel rummaged through the kitchen and found minimal baking supplies. She couldn’t make her grandma’s brownies without chocolate chips, so she grabbed her keys and headed to the store. She bought enough supplies to make brownies, cookies, and a cake, should the mood hit. She hadn’t had a real kitchen in years and she wasn’t about to let this one go to waste. Someone should be able to enjoy the household amenities, because it wasn’t going to be Mr. “I’m At Work” Ryburn.