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  Marrying a Billionaire

  A Fake Marriage Series Book 3

  Anne-Marie Meyer

  Copyright © 2018 by Anne-Marie Meyer

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  To Megan Ruff

  You made it through my first book ever and helped me become the writer I am today.

  Contents

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  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Epilogue

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  Chapter One

  Lillian stood in front of her bed, staring down at the satin button-up shirt and sharp, black pencil skirt that Tamara had lent to her. She reached out and ran her hand across the smooth fabric. Anxiety rose up in her gut, and she placed her hand on her stomach.

  She had to get this job. It was her last hope.

  She let her fingers linger on the bulge underneath her slip. It was becoming more pronounced—the fifth month of pregnancy would do that to a woman. She just hoped it wasn’t that obvious. A new job would most likely frown upon a pregnant woman, and she was running out of time and options.

  Tears stung her eyelids as she let the memories of her previous pregnancy wash over her. If this pregnancy was anything like that one, she needed medical insurance. Now.

  Letting out a deep sigh, she slipped out of her robe and dressed, sucking in her stomach as she zipped up the side of her skirt. Thankfully, it didn’t split once it was up, although it felt like it might. And that would be just her luck, her reaching out to shake billionaire Reed Williamson’s hand just to have her zipper explode.

  She slipped on the blouse and as her fingers did the last button she swallowed her fear. She wasn’t going to think like that today. She was going to be calm and confident. There was no way she could let her potential employer know she was hanging onto her sanity by a thread. That her life was falling apart and there was nothing she could do to piece it back together.

  There was a soft knock on the door. Lillian let out her breath—hoping to calm her nerves—and forced a smile.

  “Come in,” she said as she sat down on the bed and slipped her feet into her shoes.

  The door opened, revealing Tamara standing there. She was in her signature scrubs and ponytail. She had a bowl of cereal in her hand, and her lips were moving as she chewed. Her gaze swept over Lillian, and she dropped her jaw in an exaggerated movement. Tamara was back from her week-long shift as one of the nurses for billionaire and business tycoon, George Williamson—Reed’s grandfather.

  “Geez, you look better in my clothes than I do,” she said, stepping into the room and walking over to collapse on the ratty armchair in the corner.

  “I do not,” Lillian said, standing up and brushing down the front of her skirt. “Can you see it?”

  It. Not baby—it. After she lost her first baby at twenty-five weeks, she couldn’t bear to acknowledge this one. What if the same thing happened? She wasn’t sure her heart could take another loss.

  “Ugh, no. You always look amazing even when you’re pregnant. I don’t look half as good, and I’ve got no excuse.” Tamara took another bite of cereal. “Joshua’s an idiot,” she said through gritted teeth.

  “Let’s not go there today. I’m already nervous as it is.” Lillian raised her hand. The last thing she needed to be talking about was her ex-husband, Mr. Run at the First Sign of Stress. He hadn’t even wanted the previous pregnancy and when he found out they were pregnant again, he told her to either abort the baby or he was gone. He moved out the next day, and they were divorced within the month. He didn’t bother giving away his parental rights, making a snide comment about how it didn’t matter, she couldn’t keep a baby inside anyway.

  Now she was all alone, with no family around. And pregnant. Anxiety crept back into her chest. She swallowed, trying to push her emotions down. Not today. She had to get a grip.

  Tamara nodded. “You’re right. We don’t need to waste any more energy on that loser.” She shot Lillian a comforting smile. “You shouldn’t be worried. You’re going to rock this interview. Mr. Billionaire Bachelor is going to love you.”

  “I still can’t believe you got me this interview,” Lillian said as she made her way over to her dresser and picked up her heart locket necklace and put it on.

  Tamara hesitated and then shrugged. “He owed me a favor. After all, I do take care of his grandfather.”

  “Which translates to, you eavesdrop on private conversations and use that information for your own personal gain.” Lillian shot a glance over at Tamara who had an incredulous look on her face.

  “I do not. That would be unethical. However, if said people were talking a bit too loud, and I just happened to overhear”—she raised her hands—“it’s not my fault.”

  Lillian couldn’t help but smile. Tamara was always the strong, outspoken one in the friendship. Always getting them into private functions or free drinks at the bar.

  She slipped her pearl earrings on and then turned. “Well, I am grateful. If I get this job, it will be a godsend.”

  Tamara had finished her cereal and placed the bowl next to her chair. She stood and was across the room in a few strides. “You’re going to be just fine.” She pulled Lillian into a hug.

  “Thanks,” Lillian said as emotion coated her throat. It had been a hard year and half. She was grateful to have Tamara by her side, guiding her through it. Now, more than ever, she needed a friend. Someone to help her. She doubted she could function without her best friend by her side.

  “Alright, enough blubbering. Get going. You’re going be late,” Tamara said as she stepped back and waved toward the door.

  Butterflies erupted in Lillian’s stomach as she grabbed her purse. “Are you sure I can do this?” She took a small step.

  Tamara linked arms with her. “I know you can. But, if you don’t hurry, you’re going to be late. And I’m pretty sure, Mr. Williamson will not be too happy with that.”

  Lillian took a deep breath. She could do this. She knew she could. When she reached the door, she turned the handle. Once she was in the hallway of her run- down apartment complex, she had an overwhelming desire to vomit. But she muscled it down, blaming it on the pregnancy and not her out-of-control nerves.

  When she stepped out of her building and onto the sidewalk, she felt better. The sun was out and the sides of the building glowed from the sunshine. People rushed past her, and she had to spin to keep from getting trampled.

  The fresh air helped settle her stomach during the fifteen-minute drive into
New York City. It wasn’t until she was stepping out of the cab that the nausea hit again. Williamson Plaza stretched up toward the sky like a beacon. Lillian felt tiny, standing in its shadow.

  “Are you going, lady?” the cab driver’s New York accent snapped her back to reality.

  “Yeah,” she said as she reached into her purse and pulled out a twenty. After she slammed the door, the cab driver took off, leaving her alone. She took in an uneasy breath and turned to face the steps in front of her.

  You can do this, she chanted in her head. Reed Williamson is going to hire you. Her foster mom was always talking about positive self-talk and how amazing it was. Even though Lillian always wrote it off as hippy talk, at this moment, she was willing to try anything.

  She pulled open the tall, tinted-glass doors and stepped into the lobby. Men and women in tailored suits moved around her. She was grateful that she borrowed Tamara’s clothes. She would have felt completely out of place in her clay-stained ones.

  Lillian made it past the security guard and over to the elevators without tripping or doing something equally embarrassing. She was not used to wearing heels, and she hoped that it wasn’t evident to everyone around her. She reached out and pressed the up button of the elevator. The doors opened, and she boarded.

  The ride up to the thirtieth floor felt like an eternity. Lillian kept her gaze on her shoes as she counted each chime that sounded as the elevator passed each floor.

  Finally, it stopped, and the doors slid open. Lillian peered out to see a woman with a tight bun and a plunging leopard-print dress, sitting at a desk in front of her. She had a phone’s receiver pressed between her shoulder and ear. Every so often, she’d sigh and then mumble something.

  The floor was made of white marble and a couch with a matching set of armchairs were positioned on the far wall. The whole room felt so sterile. So formal. This was not where Lillian belonged.

  Comprehensive health insurance, Lillian repeated as she plastered on a smile and approached the receptionist. The doors of the elevator closed behind her, stranding her on the thirtieth floor.

  When she approached the desk, the woman didn’t look up. It wasn’t until Lillian cleared her throat that the woman’s gaze flicked over to her. She raised one perfectly manicured eyebrow as it to replace actually asking, what are you doing here?

  “I have a meeting with Mr. Williamson,” Lillian said.

  The receptionist ran her gaze over Lillian and then turned her attention to the computer in front of her. She said a few “uh huhs” as she clicked on the keyboard.

  Before the receptionist said anything, a side door opened, and a woman stepped out. Her white hair was cut in a short, a-line bob. She had speckled glasses perched on the tip of her nose and a red scarf that accented her dark suit.

  A relieved expression passed over her face as she approached Lillian. “I’m so happy you’re here. I was worried that you weren’t going to come.”

  Lillian parted her lips. Who was this woman? And they’d been expecting specifically her? That seemed strange. The job as personal assistant to a billionaire had to be an in-demand job. Surely, there had been a ton of applicants.

  “Bonnie Williamson,” she said, extending her hand.

  Lillian studied it for a moment before she reached out and shook Bonnie’s hand. Williamson. Was this a relation to Reed?

  Before Lillian could ask, Bonnie dropped her hand and waved for her to follow. “Did the agency fill you in on what we need?” she asked, peering over her shoulder as she led Lillian past the receptionist and through the glass door that said Williamson Investments.

  Lillian leaned forward. “Agency?”

  Bonnie nodded. “The person who sent you.”

  Did she mean Tamara?

  Before she could answer, Bonnie waved her hand. “Never mind. Client confidentiality. We told them to keep it hush hush so I’m sure they didn’t tell you everything.” Bonnie paused outside of a glass door that led to a conference room.

  A man in a dark blue suit sat at the far end of the table. He had round glasses and greying hair. He was rifling through some papers in front of him. Lillian felt Bonnie’s gaze on her as she rested her hand on Lillian’s shoulder.

  “I know this is all crazy, but it’s for the best. I just can’t wait until this is all over,” she said as she reached out and pulled on the large brass door handle.

  As they stepped into the room, the man at the table glanced up. He dropped his pen down on the table and stood.

  “Mrs. Williamson,” he said, buttoning his suit coat. When his gaze fell on Lillian, he nodded. “Ma’am.”

  “This is Orson Coswell. He’ll be dealing with the contract,” Bonnie said as she motioned toward a chair and then sat in the one next to it.

  “Contract?” Wow, they got serious about their employees here at Williamson’s Investments. Wait. Did this mean she got the job? “I’m hired?” Lillian asked. Her heart began to race. Was this a dream? She reached out and pinched her leg. A searing pain raced through her. Well, she was awake.

  “Hired?” Bonnie chuckled. “Well, I guess you could say that. Although we’d like to classify it more as, you’re joining our family.” She patted the tabletop in front of her. “It’s all for Reed and the betterment of this company.”

  Orson nodded. He’d returned to his chair and placed his pen on top of the papers in front of him. “Now, this is your basic contract. It says you agree to stay with Mr. Williamson for at least a year or until he is promoted to CEO. Also, there is a confidentiality clause in here. Basically, if you go to the press with any information, we’ll”—he glanced up at her—“just don’t talk about anything you see or hear.”

  Lillian stared at Orson. That sort of made sense. She was probably going to be privy to a lot of information about Reed and Williamson Investments. A high-profile company like this had to have a lot of secrets. But there was one statement that she couldn’t quite figure out. Why did she have to stay as a personal assistant until Reed became CEO? She parted her lips to ask, but Bonnie spoke before she could say anything.

  “The income is $100,000 a year with a parting bonus of $250,000. Plus, all expenses paid. Insurance, a place to live, and a clothing stipend. If you’re going to be seen next to Reed, you need to look the part,” Bonnie said, tapping her fingers as she spoke.

  Lillian almost swallowed her tongue. Never in her life had she ever imagined she would be offered that much money. “I—well—” She couldn’t form coherent sentences so decided to pinch her lips shut and nod.

  Bonnie studied her. “Did you want more?”

  Lillian’s eyes widened. Not wanting to jinx this, she just shook her head. “No. What you said will be fine.”

  Bonnie tapped the table as if to get Orson’s attention. “Add another hundred thousand to the bonus.”

  Lillian raised her hand. “No, no. That’s okay. I’m sure I’ll be just fine with a”—her voice dropped to a whisper—“quarter million.”

  Bonnie studied her. “Well, if you do a good job, I will include more when this is over.”

  Lillian nodded. “That seems fair.”

  Orson pushed the paper in her direction and indicated where she should sign. After what felt like the fiftieth signature, he declared that she was finished, gathered up the papers, and left. Lillian sat back in her chair with her head spinning. What had just happened? How had she gotten this lucky?

  Was fate finally smiling down on her?

  Bonnie stood and motioned for her to follow. “I guess it’s time to meet Reed.”

  Lillian nodded as she pushed back her chair and stood. Out in the hall, Bonnie fell in step with her.

  “Now, he’s not going to be happy to see you or about this arrangement, but it needs to happen,” Bonnie said.

  Lillian snapped her gaze over to Bonnie. Why wouldn’t Reed be happy about her being his assistant? Tamara was pretty adamant that Reed wanted to meet her, and that this arrangement would be advantageous for both of them. �
��Really? If it’s going to be a problem, I can wait. He should probably interview me first.” Panic rose up in her chest. She needed this job, and the last thing she wanted was to get her hopes up just to have them dashed when billionaire Reed Williamson waved her away.

  Bonnie patted her arm. “Nonsense. That boy doesn’t know what he wants. Sometimes, it takes a mother’s guidance to help him see. He may feel that it’s impossible to fulfill this stipulation, but I’m not ready to give up. Not yet.”

  Relief flooded Lillian. If she had the support of Bonnie, perhaps she would fight Reed to keep her.

  They stopped at the door at the end of the hall, and Bonnie shot her what seemed like an encouraging smile. Then she raised her hand and knocked a few times.

  “Come in,” a deep, smooth voice said.

  Bonnie reached out and grasped the door handle. Lillian held her breath as Bonnie pushed open the door.

  “What do you want, Mom?” Reed asked.

  “I’m here to introduce you to your wife.”

  Lillian’s heart began to race. Had she heard Bonnie right? What did she just call her?

  Chapter Two

  Reed leaned against the metal frame that made up the large picture windows in his office. The afternoon sun shone down on him, warming his already hot skin. Frustration coursed through his veins as he took a few deep breaths. He couldn’t believe his grandfather. A marriage stipulation? Was he serious?

  Reed deserved full ownership of Williamson Investments. Not Mason. He’d been the one carrying this company on his back since he graduated top of his class from Harvard Business. And what had his philandering half-brother done? Nothing. But that didn’t seem to matter to their grandfather. He needed to marry, or Mason would get full control if the company.