The Billionaire's Fake Bride (Halstead Billionaire Brothers Book 4)

  The Billionaire’s Fake Bride

  Halstead Billionaire Brothers Series (Book 4)

  Lauren Wood

  Copyright © 2020 by Lauren Wood

  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.

  Contents

  Prologue

  1. Jesse

  2. Maya

  3. Jesse

  4. Maya

  5. Jesse

  6. Maya

  7. Jesse

  8. Maya

  9. Jesse

  10. Maya

  11. Jesse

  12. Maya

  13. Jesse

  14. Maya

  15. Jesse

  16. Maya

  17. Jesse

  18. Maya

  19. Jesse

  20. Maya

  21. Jesse

  22. Maya

  23. Jesse

  24. Maya

  25. Jesse

  Epilogue

  The Billionaire’s Lawyer

  Chapter 1

  Also by Lauren Wood

  About the Author

  Epilogue

  Prologue

  Maya

  Margo watched as I strung another set of beads onto the wire before intricately wrapping them around in a design. In between gossip and sips of our drinks, we would fall quiet again for a moment as I continued to work.

  “When do you have to have all of these done by?” she asked, trailing her fingers over the hanging necklaces.

  “Tomorrow,” I sighed. “It will be a nice paycheck when I deliver them to the shop, but it’s still not enough to catch up on all of these bills.”

  “I’ve been telling you, Maya. You should let me hook you up with a nanny job. I know another family on the same street as the house I work for who are looking for someone.”

  She was sprawled out upside down on my couch with her legs perched on the back of it, but as I reached for my drink, she decided to do the same. She gracefully pulled herself up and settled back to a normal seated position, curling a pillow to her chest as she brought the cocktail to her lips.

  Margo was like a swan, graceful and beautiful. While she may have only been a nanny, she liked to dress, talk, and act more like the wealthy families she worked for. She knew all the gossip about their lavish lifestyles and had been trying to rope me into getting into the same line of work for years.

  “The more the bills pile up, the more tempting it gets,” I confessed, relishing in the warmth of my martini. “But I’d never have any time for my art. And kids? It’s just not for me.”

  Her eyes darted around my small but colorful rented home. The walls were painted in vivid yellows, blues, and reds mixed in with colorful furniture and drapes. Every space was filled with knick-knacks I had acquired at thrift stores or through trades for my work. In addition to all of the jewelry supplies were the stacks of painted canvases and journals. It was a somewhat chaotic mirage of collected and created things, but it was me. It was home.

  I had managed to get by here for years selling paintings and jewelry and by teaching the occasional poetry class at the community center. Before moving here, I traveled all over the place with my art, always on the go between one place and the next. When I decided to settle down into something more stable, I hadn’t realized how much I would struggle just to keep a consistent roof over my head. A lump was forming in my throat from thinking about it, and I decided to push the nearly finished necklaces aside for the evening.

  “Sometimes, I think about hitting the road again,” I explained to Margo. “I could sell all the things I’ve built up since moving here, keeping only what I can fit in my van. Use that money to pay my way to wherever I feel like driving to. Sell some more things there and then move onto the next place.”

  “I don’t think I could live with all that uncertainty,” she replied, shuttering a little. “But, it does sound romantic.”

  “It is romantic, in a way. I don’t think I can do that anymore, either. I like knowing where I’ll be sleeping next month and having a reliable kitchen to cook in with a full pantry.” A feeling of comfort washed over me as I looked around my tiny, charming home.

  I could see the wheels turning in Margo’s brain. She found my bohemian lifestyle intriguing and glamorous, and she was the type who was always eager to find clever solutions to things.

  “There is one other option you could consider,” she said slowly with a coy, mischievous grin.

  I perked up but could tell by the tone of her voice I wouldn’t like the suggestion. “Don’t say stripping or prostitution.” I laughed. “I’m desperate, but not that desperate.”

  “Not exactly anything that risque.” She rolled her eyes. “But still very avant-garde. Right up your alley, really. One of the other nannies I talked to at the park was telling me about this guy her employer knew. His trust fund had some sort of marriage stipulation worked into it, but he was having trouble meeting someone he wanted to marry. Apparently, he used some service to find a wife. These rich people pay good looking singles to marry them! The matchmaking service arranges the whole thing.”

  “Wow. Rich people really can buy their way into anything they want.” I smirked, not really understanding what this had to do with me.

  “You should give it a try!” she shrieked, looking more excited by the second. “What have you got to lose? People get divorced all the time. If it didn’t work out, you could just leave. But until then, you wouldn’t have to worry about money. You could be a trophy wife and do your art the rest of the time. You could be living a life of luxury!”

  I scoffed then started laughing so hard I snorted. It was absurd. Me? A trophy wife? I was no more cut out for that than I was a life as a nanny.

  “I am not marrying myself off to some old, bald, rich fat man who can’t find a wife the old fashioned way,” I argued, feeling a little sick at the thought. “Those men are basically buying women, and do you really see me being some guy’s property?”

  “Well, no. But my friend said the marriage actually turned out great! The two of them hit it off. And anyway, it’s not what you’re thinking. It’s a very elite matchmaking service. The men are all rich, handsome, eligible bachelors with their own reasons for needing to find a wife really fast. They only let really hip, smart, attractive women apply.”

  She was talking fast, getting really worked up over the whole idea. Then she started snapping her fingers and looking around until her sights settled on my laptop sitting nearby. “Can I use this for a sec?” She snatched it up without waiting for my answer and began pulling something up on the browser. “See? Some of these guys are really good looking.”

  She spun the screen around for me to look, and she wasn’t wrong. It looked like any other dating site, except you had to apply before you could be matched with anyone. Most of the men looked like they were in their late twenties to early forties, but even the older ones were silver foxes. They all had big, handsome smiles with sparkling teeth to go with their expensive, designer suits.

  “Okay, they’re actually not bad,” I admitted as we continued clicking through them. “But you know most of these guys are probably assholes. They have to be to think they could buy love and marriage.”

  “I never realized you were such a romantic,” she teased.

  “I don’t think you have to be much of a romantic to see the flaws in an arranged marriage.”
I shook my head and continued browsing through the available bachelors. It was a fun temptation to think about, considering how gorgeous a lot of the men were. And knowing they had big bank accounts and were willing to pay for everything was enticing, even if it was a little superficial.

  “Maybe I should,” I quipped when she clicked over one particularly hot hunk. I started fanning myself as a joke. “I have given up on finding the one, anyway. Why not give an arranged marriage a go?”

  She gasped and moved closer to the screen. “I know this one! I’m friends with his brother’s nanny. I can’t believe he’s on the market for this thing. I would never have expected him to use something like this.”

  The more I entertained the idea, the more the sinking feeling in my gut grew. I really was getting desperate if I would even think about this sort of thing for a second. I quickly slammed the laptop shut and reached for my drink.

  “Enough marriage and money talk,” I announced, chugging back my glass. “You need to make us another round of cocktails.”

  “Okay, but maybe we can pull it back up again later. Hell, I might try to find my own husband on there. Take a break from nannying for a while. Besides, there’s no harm in looking.”

  1

  Jesse

  I was eager to get settled into my seat at the bar where I was meeting my buddies Joey and Mark. They worked in the corporate business world like me and were always fun to wind down with, and after the evening I had, I needed a nice cold drink with friends more than ever.

  “How’s it going, man?” Joey patted my shoulder as I pulled up the stool next to him. “How’s your grandfather?”

  I shook my head, not knowing how to respond at first. My brothers and I had just left the hospital where we were visiting with him, and it was a hard pill to swallow.

  “Not so good,” I answered honestly. “The doctors are saying his days are numbered at this point. But otherwise, he seems in good spirits. All things considered.”

  “Sorry to hear that,” Mark replied grimly. But his attention was quickly distracted by a thin blonde in a skimpy dress that was walking by, eyeing us all down with a flirty smile.

  Mark and Joey were two of my main guys for hitting the town and picking up chicks, especially now that all of my brothers were paired off. We used to be the infamous billionaire heartbreaker Halstead brothers. Now it seemed I was the only one left without an interest in settling down.

  On a normal night, I’d be the first one to go chasing after that chick to strike up a conversation and buy her a drink. But the heaviness of the day was killing my mood. I could tell by the way Mark and Joey were scanning the room that they were not so detoured, despite their best efforts to try and console me.

  “Don’t let me be a downer,” I told them after we finished trading the details of our days. “I’ll play wingman tonight.”

  “Jesse, what a good guy,” Joey quipped. “You’ve got all this stuff going on with your granddad, and you’re still willing to look out for your boys.”

  I laughed to myself and let them carry on. I was truly devastated by my grandfather’s health taking a turn for the worse. We had grown especially close to him and Grandma after our parents died. But he was an old man who had lived a big, full life. There’s no escaping death, and if he had to go, he couldn’t have asked for a better life and legacy to be leaving behind.

  “Really, I need to get back into the headspace of picking up girls now more than ever,” I added as we turned on our stools and looked around at the women in the bar. “I’m the last remaining bachelor in the family, and with my grandfather dying, the pressure’s really on.”

  I shuddered to think back on my granddad spewing out those dreaded words. He waved for my brothers and me to come in close and talked quietly with his raspy voice. He could’ve had any dying wish in the world, but it just had to be that he saw each of his grandsons married off before he died. The Halstead name was a powerful one with a billion-dollar corporation behind it. He wanted to ensure that his legacy would live on through the generations.

  “Thank goodness Dominic isn’t married yet,” Mark offered as comfort.

  “He popped the question to Vanna last week,” I huffed resentfully. “It was a smart move. We all know our grandfather’s health is on thin ice. By proposing to his girlfriend just in time, he got himself off the hook.”

  Joey grimaced with a pitying grin. “Well, cheers to you, man. I know what it’s like. My family’s breathing down my neck, too. The more money you have, the more they worry about what’s going to happen with all of it down the road. It’s not easy being the last man standing.”

  “Let’s toast to that,” Mark suggested, wearing his bachelorhood like a badge of honor. “To the last man standing!”

  We all clinked our glasses together then chugged back what was left of our first round before ordering another. It was still hard for me to believe that I truly was the last man standing. Just a couple of years ago, it didn’t seem like any of us would be settling down, but then Dominic fell for Vanna, this catering girl he met through our work functions. She introduced our other brother, Jason, to her best friend, Tara. At first, she was just his nanny, but it didn’t take long for those two to fall for each other, too.

  My brother Eric was always more like me. We didn’t take to following in our father’s footsteps as well as our older brothers. We always had a wilder side to us and definitely didn’t see marriage in our futures. Then, something completely unexpected happened. He fell for this lawyer chick, and next thing we knew, they had a baby on the way. That baby was a lot like the engagement ring Dominic gave to Vanna. It wasn’t wedding bells just yet, but it was close enough to put my grandfather’s mind at ease.

  My eyes drifted to a cute redhead in a corner booth. She was pretending not to notice me staring, but I kept seeing her shoot subtle glances my way. She looked about five or six years younger than me, and judging by the strappy leopard print number she was wearing, she was a wild one.

  “What do you say?” Joey asked, picking up on where my sights had landed. “She’s got two cute friends. Should we go over and sit with them?”

  “Nah,” I said, shaking my head. “She’s my type, for sure. But I don’t know. This whole thing has me in a bad headspace. Face it. None of the girls you’d find here are wife material. Anyway, how am I going to meet someone now and get a ring on their finger before my grandfather dies? It’s hopeless and a recipe for disaster. I don’t want to end up married off to some crazy, random broad who’s going to take me for everything I’m worth when we have to get divorced.”

  I hated to disappoint my granddad. Knowing how the lineage and distribution of wealth had worked for my family through the generations, it was a valid request to want to see each of us secured through marriage and kids. It wasn’t just about money, either. He was an old fashioned guy who married our grandmother right out of high school. Their love had withstood the test of time, and now she was by his side as he laid in his deathbed. He wanted us to know that same kind of love and happiness.

  “Well, there’s always the matchmaking service.” Mark raised his brows as he took another sip of his beer.

  Joey and I both started laughing. We all knew about the elite service that was made for guys just like me with endless wealth at their fingertips and, for whatever reason, find themselves in a spot that requires them to get married. When they don’t have a desire to or the time to find someone, they turn to the service. I had known a guy who had done it, in fact, and it turned out all right for him.

  But the more I thought about it, the more my laughter faded into more serious thoughts. I would never have dreamed of resorting to something like that. Buying a bride? It was ridiculous! But now, with the current situation looming over me, I understood more than ever why such a thing existed. It was designed to solve this very kind of problem.

  We all seemed to shake it off as a joke, and it didn’t seem like the right time to ask more about it. We continued drinking and s
coping out the scene, but my mind kept coming back to the prospect. At least with that type of arrangement, a contract would be in place. The women were all extremely well-vetted. My money and, hopefully, my sanity would remain intact. All we’d have to do is maintain appearances for the sake of my family, and otherwise, life would carry on as usual. I wouldn’t have to worry about hunting down a wife, and I could go back to things I loved, like talking up that smoking hot redhead who was still making eyes at me.

  I told myself I would bring it back up with Mark again tomorrow. It didn’t hurt to look into it and find out more. After all, I was running out of time and options.

  2

  Maya

  As the stress of my financial situation continued growing, it felt good to lose myself in an afternoon of painting. I had pushed aside my dining table to make room for a huge canvas I had stretched myself, and I started spreading paint across the surface in long, sweeping strokes. Maybe it didn’t solve any of my problems, but it was enough of an escape to make me forget about them, at least for a little while.

  When my phone rang, I almost didn’t answer. I was lost in my own little universe and had music blaring in the background. I didn’t want to come back into the real world yet. But I didn’t recognize the number on the caller ID, and knew I couldn’t risk missing an opportunity to make money if it was someone calling about a painting or a jewelry order.