Wanted: Billionaire's Wife

I’ll try to call you when I get settled, but I’ll be super busy so it might be a while. Here’s your final paycheck and the number for the lawyer in charge of the business dissolution in case you have questions.

Ciao!

Johanna xoxo

Danica pulled out the attached pay slip. Two weeks’ severance had been added to it. Two weeks. That was all she was worth to Johanna? After giving her three years of her life, helping her build the company from the ground up, never taking vacation and only the very rare sick day? The emergency family leave had been the first time she’d been away from the office for more than forty-eight hours in a row.

She sank to the floor. This was worse than when her ex-boyfriend left her. At least then she’d had a job and could contribute to the family finances. Now? She didn’t even have her beaten-up car. She’d asked her roommate, Mai, to sell it for her to cover her share of the household expenses, since her plane ticket had eaten up her meager bank account. Nor could she ask Mai to let her slide on her rent payment. Mai’s finances were almost as precarious as hers.

Danica always managed to find the glimmer of light in darkness, to think her way out of what seemed like insurmountable odds. Until now. Try as hard as she could, her mind remained an opaque blank.

* * *

Luke watched Danica march to her cubicle, ponytail swinging as if she didn’t have a care in the world. He couldn’t help but notice other rounder portions of her anatomy also swaying. Too bad she was lying about reaching Johanna. He’d tried calling her several times himself. No answer, only voice mail.

He should return to his office and come up with plans B through Z. He would just have to sidestep his team’s questions about the acquisition the best he could.

A sniffle-like sound echoed through the empty suite. He shook his head. Tears were a cheap, manipulative trick. He reached for the doorknob.

A second sniffle ricocheted through the air, followed by a third.

Damn it. He turned and walked to the cubicle.

The noises were Danica shredding what looked like expensive stationery into tiny pieces of confetti. “Wanton destruction. Effective,” he said.

She gave him a quick smile, her eyes suspiciously bright, before returning to her task. “Johanna moved to Sydney.”

He couldn’t keep the surprise out of his voice. “You got her on the phone?”

She shook her head. “She left an old-fashioned note. I’d show you but it’s not legible now.” More paper fragments fell from her hands. “I guess the meeting on Wednesday is cancelled.”

“Yes.” A strange twinge of something like regret hit him at the thought of never seeing her again, but he shook it off. “I’m leaving. Good luck.” He held out his hand to be shaken.

She took it. Her palm fit against his as if it was meant to be there.

He cleared his throat. “If you hear from Johanna, tell her I need—”

His gaze fixated on a scrap of paper near his shoe. Stavr was written on it in loopy cursive letters. “Why is Johanna in Sydney?”

Danica shrugged. “Her note said she got her dream job.” She kicked at the scraps.

“A job with whom?” His stomach muscles contracted as if anticipating a hard blow.

“The Stavros Group. Why?”

The blow landed, square in his gut. He now saw just how thoroughly Nestor and Irene had prepared the trap. He couldn’t help but wonder who else in his social circle they’d co-opted. He bet if he called Gwen, the last woman he dated, he’d find she was filming out of the country—for one of the Stavros Group’s production companies.

And he’d walked into it like a green MBA just out of business school, all theoretical book learning with none of the street smarts he had honed over the years. His fists bunched, nails digging sharply into his skin. It was either that or punch the wall, and the cubicle looked like one good blow would topple it over. “I can’t believe I didn’t see this,” he ground out.

Danica stopped tearing paper, her gaze fixing on his. “What does Johanna’s new job have to do with you?”

He shook his head, the bile closing his throat and bottling his words deep inside. Nestor and Irene were three steps ahead of him, always had been. They took Johanna off the game board, knowing she would be his first move. It was predictable, he had to admit. He and Irene and Johanna had been at business school together. Irene knew his social circle almost as well as he did. Damn it.

He strode out of the cubicle. “I have to get back to my office.”

“Oh, no, you don’t.” Danica beat him to the outer door and stood in his way. “You’re not leaving until you tell me what is going on.”

He ignored her, veering right.

She dodged him with a grace he hadn’t seen since the last time he was dragged to a benefit for the San Francisco Ballet. She set her feet and held her arms out to block his passage. He couldn’t help but notice how her stance caused her shirt buttons to strain against her full breasts, creating shadowy gaps that tempted further exploration.

He dragged his gaze away and reached for the doorknob. “I don’t have time for this game.”

Her hand grabbed his wrist, her fingers landing on his pulse point. Their gazes met, clashed in a lightning strike that sent electricity crackling through the air.

Her chin dropped, and she looked up at him from under dark gold eyelashes. The tip of her pink tongue darted out to wet her plump lips, her breaths coming faster. Her remarkable eyes almost glowed in the dust-filled light. What if he leaned in, like so—

Before he could put his thoughts into action, she snapped her head up. The static in the atmosphere dissipated. She let his wrist go but he could feel the pressure of her fingers on his skin.

“This is not a game. This is my life.” Her voice cracked on the last word, and she took a deep breath. “Before today, I had a job I loved in executive recruitment. I was really good at it too. My title might have been assistant, but I made most of the placements and I was finally about to be promoted. But this morning, poof!” She snapped her fingers. “And judging by your behavior, you’re connected to the magic trick that made my job disappear. You owe me an explanation.”

He couldn’t tell her the truth. No one got the better of him. Especially not Irene and her father.

Then Danica’s words clicked. Executive recruitment. She was also a recruiter.

It wasn’t the most elegant solution. She’d think him irrational, to start, and maybe he was. He certainly wasn’t acting like himself, leaning in to kiss a stranger just because he found her mouth intriguing.

Yet when he ran a split-second mental check of the pros and cons, it made sense. In fact, it might work better than his initial plan, which had required Johanna’s unpredictable cooperation.

Danica’s words made it sound like her entire world had imploded. She needed him. Or rather, he corrected himself, she needed his offer of employment. It was always beneficial to have the upper hand in a business relationship.

Yes, he found her attractive. But his discipline, at both work and play, was legendary. “You say you’re good at executive recruitment?”

“The best.” Her expression turned wary. “Why do you ask?”

“Because I need a wife ASAP. And you’re going to recruit one for me.”

Two

“You need a wife?” Danica was surprised her legs still held her up. “And you want me to recruit one for you?”

It didn’t make sense. Luke Dallas should have no trouble finding a wife. His effect on women was well documented. She herself spent only three minutes in his presence before she started tripping over her bag. If she hadn’t managed to break the spell his nearness cast over her, she would have thrown all professionalism to the wind and kissed him. And then prayed for an earthquake to swallow her as she’d be the laughing stock of Silicon Valley: the assistant who threw herself at Luke Dallas. Johanna especially would—

The shoe dropped, hard.

“Is that why you’re here?” Danica stared at Luke. “You were going to ask Johanna to do this.”

A ruddy glint appeared on his sun-bronzed cheekbones. “Do you want a job or not?”

She managed to corral her thoughts into something resembling coherency. “I don’t know the first thing about finding wives. Vice-presidents of finance? Yes. Lifetime partners? You’re on your own.”

“What’s the difference?” he countered. “I give you my list of requirements. You find candidates who match those requirements.”

“But,” she sputtered, searching for words to make him understand, “a wife isn’t an employee. What about, oh, I don’t know, compatibility? Life goals?”

“I look for employees who are compatible with my company’s culture and share my goals for its future. I expect the same from a wife.” He sounded as if he were ordering a custom car, instead of entering a committed relationship with a human being.

“But you can fire an employee. You can’t fire a wife!”

“It’s called divorce. Look, I hire employees who are the best of the best. But I don’t comb the world looking for them. I hire someone to do that for me.” He leaned into the door, his broad shoulder just scant inches from where hers rested against the polished wooden surface.

Her pulse doubled. It had to be from outrage at his ridiculous request. It certainly wasn’t caused by having his attention laser focused on her, his gaze demanding she meet his. “I’d be thrilled to be an executive recruiter for you, but—”

“It’s the same principle. I don’t have time for the necessary getting-to-know-you dates to ensure a potential spouse fits my specific requirements. I’m hiring you to do the vetting for me. Simple.”

“Only it’s not—”

“The successful candidate will need to sign a prenuptial contract so that I can, indeed, ‘fire’ her without consequences if necessary. Just like an employment contract, which you and I will have. It’s highly reasonable.” His direct gaze dared her to disagree.

No wonder he earned the nickname Luke Dalek. He made marriage sound like lines of binary code. “What about falling in love?”

He raised an eyebrow, like a teacher silently reprimanding a student for failing to add two plus two correctly. “The successful candidate will be well compensated for meeting my requirements. As will you for conducting the search. I assume three hundred thousand dollars will cover your retainer fee and costs.”

“That doesn’t answer my—wait. Three hundred thousand dollars?” At his nod, blood thudded in her ears. This time, his nearness had nothing to do with it.

Three. Hundred. Thousand. Dollars. What remained of the bills for Matt’s surgery could be paid outright and he could start the experimental treatment. Her parents could stop worrying. Her rent payments would be covered, staving off homelessness for the foreseeable future.

There was even enough money to start her own search firm. Never again rely on an employer’s empty promises.

It sounded too good to be true. And in her experience, when things sounded too good to be true, it meant they would end only in tears: hers. “There are lots of people who are professional matchmakers. Like that TV show, Matchmaker for Millionaires, or whatever it’s called. Why not go to her?”

His upper lip curled. “I would rather replace my laptop with a typewriter. I told you, I don’t have time for the conventional courtship a matchmaker would require. I’m hiring you because my criteria include a successful business track record, experience with high-level philanthropy and an elite education. Qualities you should be familiar with in executive recruitment.”

“Seems like a rather extreme way to meet women.” Exhaustion always caused her mouth to operate separately from her brain’s tact center.

His gaze narrowed, then his mouth upturned ever so slightly. He leaned closer to her. “If I just needed to meet women, I wouldn’t require your services. Believe me.” His low tones rumbled in her ear, causing her knees to turn to water.

She braced herself against the wall. She didn’t want to find Luke Dallas desirable. He was easy to look at, sure. His muscles belonged on a museum statue. His eyes could be used as interrogation weapons: one deep gaze into those blue pools and she was sure spies of all genders would be happy to spill their secrets. It was fun following his exploits in the gossip columns from afar—okay, exciting to imagine herself in the designer dresses of his dates. But in person? Intimidating. Arrogant. And asking the impossible.

Too late, she realized Luke continued to speak. She tuned in just in time to hear him say, “If you complete the search in one month, you’ll earn a fifty-thousand-dollar bonus.”

“Fifty...thousand...” The room began to spin around her once more.

“Breathe,” he said. He put a hand on her upper arm to keep her steady. Sparks flew from where he touched her, crackling through her nervous system. “You should work on that.”

It was a lot of money. Money her family needed. She searched his gaze, looking for a catch. She saw only determination.

“Well?” He looked at his smartwatch. “The offer is off the table in three minutes.”

Finding suitable contenders shouldn’t be a problem if she focused on education and work history. Charity work and social affiliations would also help her determine if they met his criteria. Thankfully, she had backed up the firm’s database of recruitment targets before she took her family leave. Johanna rarely changed her own email passwords, much less the password to the cloud storage site Danica used for the firm’s important files, so access to the information shouldn’t be a problem.

The ethics of finding him a bride, however... She bit her lower lip. But he was right. Executive search hinged on making a successful match between the employer and the candidate. What he wanted wasn’t too much of a leap. She blurted out the next thing that popped into her head. “I’m not asking about sexual histories. That’s all on you.”

A swift grin transformed his face. It made him seem approachable, even charming. “Does that mean you accept the job?”

“I have a few conditions.” Her voice echoed in the empty office. “I’ll find you three women who fit your criteria. However, getting one of them to agree to marry you is your job. And if no one puts on your ring, I still get paid.”

“Only three?”

She held up her hand and checked off items on her fingers as she spoke. “You’re asking me to identify suitable candidates, investigate their backgrounds, check their references and ascertain their interest in the potential—” she was going to say position but changed her mind “—opening.”

He raised an eyebrow and gave her a devastating smirk. Too late, she realized the word she chose was almost as suggestive as the one she discarded. “In one month. Three feasible choices are a very healthy outcome,” she said, managing to continue.

“Fine. I accept. But I must agree each one satisfies my requirements before I sign off on the completion of your contract.” A gleam lit his gaze when he stressed the word satisfies.

“You agree they fulfill the requirements on paper before you meet them. Any satisfaction that occurs after is up to you.” She bit her lower lip to stop from returning his smirk.

His gaze lingered on her mouth. If he was trying to fluster her, he was doing a good job. She folded her arms and lifted her chin.

That unholy glint of laughter remained in his gaze. “And your other conditions?”

She resisted the urge to wipe her damp palms on her trousers. “An office to work in, a corporate cell phone and an open expense account. Oh, and health insurance. Starting today.” She kept her gaze steadily on his through sheer force of will. He really did have the most amazing eyes. Deep blue with flecks of gray—or were they deep gray with flecks of blue? Either way, they reminded her of pictures she had seen of ancient Roman mosaics in her parents’ home city of Zagreb, the colors deep and rich and playing off each other.

This time an actual smile dented one side of his face. “Come by Ruby Hawk after lunch and I’ll have someone set you up with a workspace, phone, benefits and credit card.”

Danica exhaled. It felt good to have her lungs back in working order. “It’s a deal.”

“Not yet. I have conditions of my own. One, this is confidential.”

She narrowed her gaze. “Searches usually are.”

“Two, you’ll sign a nondisclosure agreement. No talking to the press, your relatives or your partner.” He raised an eyebrow. “I assume you have one.”

“I never talk to the press. I keep my work and private life separate.”

“And the partner?”

“None of your business, but not an issue.” Was that a flash in his gaze? Not that it was any concern of hers. Yes, he was attractive, but so had been her ex. Who dumped her to marry a woman who sounded a lot like Luke’s ideal candidate.

He nodded. “We’ll tell the staff at Ruby Hawk you’re a consultant working on a research project for me. And three, while I understand asking certain questions are not in your job description—” he paused and his one-sided smile deepened “—your candidates must be single and free of romantic entanglements.”

His phone rang, an insistent buzz. He looked at it, and the CEO feared across Silicon Valley reappeared. “I have to take this. I’ll see you in my office at two thirty.” It was a command, not a question. Before she could respond, he was gone, leaving eddies in the air.

She let out her breath as the adrenaline surging in his presence slowly retreated. Her gaze swept the bare walls and scuffed floors. It was hard to believe two weeks ago she thought her job was secure. Of course, two weeks ago she also thought her strong, athletic teenage brother would remain in the best of health. Before the accident, Danica thought her life was on a straight road, with maybe the occasional dip or hill. Now? Nothing but blind curves and unmarked hazards.

Like the blind curve Luke Dallas represented. She squeezed her eyes shut. She’d make it work. To help her brother get the care he needed, she’d do almost anything.

She left the office with her box of personal possessions in hand and headed to the nearest library to log into the employee-only portal on the Rinaldi Executive Search website. As she anticipated, the passwords hadn’t been changed. She filled out the template agreement for executive search services, changing the words and terms as necessary. After her finger hovered over the keyboard for several heartbeats, she pressed Send.

* * *

Luke wasn’t sure if he’d made an expensive blunder or hit upon a stroke of genius. The decision to hire Danica Novak to find him a wife so he could jump through Nestor Stavros’s ridiculous hoop seemed right at the time. A week later, driving in his car on his way to work, it seemed like a damn foolish idea. Especially since he had yet to see any viable work product from Ms. Novak.

He refused to think he been taken in by big green eyes and a luscious mouth meant to be kissed slowly and thoroughly. He found her physically attractive, yes. But she also exhibited a quick wit and a willingness to go toe to toe with him that suggested she was intelligent and more than capable. He just needed to see the evidence of it. Now.

He parked his BMW i8 in the parking space marked with his name and strode through the glass doors engraved with the Ruby Hawk logo, forgoing the elevator in favor of taking the stairs two by two up to the third floor that housed the main operations. Today was going to be yet another difficult one. Cinco Jackson wrote another article about the Stavros Group acquisition, and this time he mentioned the deal might fall apart if certain unnamed conditions weren’t met.

Anjuli Patel met him as he exited the stairwell. He did a double take as he took in her outfit. The chief financial officer of Ruby Hawk and his second-in-command, she normally wore carefully color-coordinated outfits and tasteful jewelry. This morning she looked as if one of her three-year-old twins had chosen her clothing. “Another article just appeared in the Silicon Valley Weekly,” she said. “My husband texted me from the gym at 6:00 a.m.”

“Yes. I saw it. I’m sure everyone has,” he answered without breaking stride.

Anjuli fell in beside him and matched his speed. “How much truth is in it? Is the Stavros Group removing you when the deal goes through? Is the deal going through?” Her dark gaze sparked with anxious curiosity. She knew as well as he did how much the influx of cash from the acquisition was vitally needed.

“Let’s talk.” He beelined for his office. Like most tech companies, Ruby Hawk employees worked in an open plan bullpen. No doors, no cubicles, just desks pushed together to form team clusters. But recently Luke took over one of the glass-walled conference rooms that ringed the outer wall for more privacy during the acquisition discussions. He’d need it today.

“Let’s talk in a good way? Or let’s talk and it’s bad?” she asked.

“Just be prepared,” he said. “Run the numbers if the Stavros Group stays with the deal, and then run the numbers if they don’t.”

“Which set do you want first?”

The sooner he knew what he was up against, the better. “The latter.”

“So it’s bad.” Her worried gaze swept over the engineers sitting at low desks. A few browser windows featuring the Silicon Valley Weekly website closed as Luke and Anjuli passed by.

“It might be.” He increased his stride to pull ahead of her.

His steps slowed as he neared the door to the conference room. A clump of his top executives occupied the space between him and the door. Every single person standing outside his office he had handpicked to be on his team. In many cases, he persuaded them to leave lucrative salaries and promising career trajectories to join him at Ruby Hawk. He owed them, more than he could express.

“There he is.” The knot of executives pressed forward.

“Is it true?”

“What’s happening with the acquisition?”

“Are you leaving the company?”

He caught sight of a messy blond ponytail on the outer fringes of the group. Good. He needed Danica—or rather, he corrected his thoughts grimly, he needed her work, now more than ever.

He held up a hand and the questions quieted down. “Don’t pay attention to the rumors. Our response is to keep our heads down and continue to do good work. But I do need to see her.” He indicated with a jerk of his chin for Danica to come forward.

Her startled gaze met his. “Me?” she sputtered.

“You. Anjuli, let’s meet after you run those numbers. Everyone else, back to your desks. If you want to gossip, do it on your own time.” He stepped forward to usher Danica into his office as the small crowd dispersed at his command.

* * *

Danica didn’t have time to form a protest. His hand on the small of her back guided her, its warmth radiating through the thin cotton jersey of her shirt. He indicated a chair in front of his desk and let go of her arm, not a second too soon for her comfort. The door shut behind them with a resounding click.

“What can I do for you?” she asked, sitting gingerly on the edge of a clear molded acrylic chair. Her back was to the glass wall, but her spine prickled with the heat of at least half a dozen stares aimed straight at her.

He sat down on the opposite side of the repurposed-wood conference table. He pushed a button on a remote control and mechanized shades unrolled over the windows, shielding them from the curious gazes.

The light in the room dimmed, the atmosphere changing from corporate to intimate. She was very aware they were the only two people in the room.

His shoulders seemed to fall slightly. It was a small chink in his usually impenetrable armor of arrogant self-confidence. She yearned to reach out and smooth the faint creases marring his brow. “What’s wrong?” she tried again, her tone soft.

The vulnerability disappeared as quickly as it had revealed itself, causing the temperature in the room to fall a few degrees. “Nothing I can’t handle.”