Secrets of a Billionaire

Chapter 5

Amanda’s POV

“Please, will you marry me?” Mark asked. Begged, actually. I notice the limo driver is looking at us with the aid of the rear view mirror. Mark notices, too, and finds the button that will raise the privacy glass. Then he looks back at me, taking my hand in his and looks at me in the eye.

“But I don’t even know you!” I remind him, trying to insert some sanity into this ridiculous conversation.

“Well, what if I tell you all about myself?” He says, opening his arms and leaning back in the limo seat as if he was completely comfortable in an atmosphere like this. “Ask me anything you like!”

I would try to take a deep breath to calm myself, only the dress is a little too tight for that. I’m definitely not used to having random men I just met beg for my hand in holy matrimony like this! He has to be joking, right?

“Ok, then… what is your full name and what do you do for a living?” I ask first.

“Well… you can call me Mark Shipton. I’ll give you my full name only after we’re married,” he tells me evasively. “And I currently work in building management. In fact, I actually work in the office of the building you just moved in to! Harrogate Towers.”

“That seems mighty suspicious,” I reply cautiously. “I haven’t met anyone in the office yet because right now the guy is on vacation!”

“That’s correct. I’m on vacation because I’m getting married and then I’m taking off on a two week long honeymoon,” He points out.

“Oh, right,” I reply. I suppose that does sort of make sense. But then I decide to test him further to see if he’s really telling me the truth, as this could still be a ruse somehow. I don’t want to be burned again like I was with Rick. “So that means you should know the name of the guy who leased the apartment to me?”

“I know Charlene, who has worked with me for over 3 years,” he replies smugly. “She’s handling all the leases for me while I’m on vacation. You could call her and ask about me if you feel that you need a personal reference!”

“Hmm,” I have to think about this. I actually do recall Charlene mentioning him once or twice when she was helping with the lease papers and giving me the keys to the apartment. She claims he was a nice guy, and that I’d probably get along well with him. I need some other indicator of his personality, though. “Cats or dogs?”

“Dogs.” He says definitively. “But only a proper dog, not some fancy yappy little dog that bites your heels. Not a chihuahua, pug, corgi, or shi tzu. It should be something like a golden retriever or a German shepherd. But I don’t mind cats at all if that’s what you prefer. I’m definitely pro pet, just as long as everyone pays the pet deposit and takes care of them properly.”

“Steak or seafood?”

“I enjoy both equally,” he claims. “But if I could only choose one, then seafood. I couldn’t live without my bi-weekly sushi fix every payday!”

“Sun or rain… or snow?”

“As long as I’m dressed appropriately for the weather, I can be happy in any weather condition,” Mark claims, letting go of my hand and crossing his arms in from of his chest. Like a boss.

“Beach or mountains?”

“Beach,” he tells me firmly. “In fact, our honeymoon is going to be in Hawaii. But I do enjoy an occasional hike in the mountains if it’s a nice day.”

“IF we have a honeymoon! IF!” I stress strongly. “I haven’t agreed to anything yet.”

He runs his hands down his face, looking weary, I’m guessing he’s deep in thought for a moment.

“Look, I know this is very unconventional,” he tells me. “But I have to be married before my 30th birthday, and I can’t tell you why. I’ve only got 3 weeks left. I’m running out of time and options, since my fiancée is apparently cheating on me.”

“Why can’t you tell me why you have to get married?” I ask, very suspicious about his motives. “Don’t I have a right to know? Are you an illegal immigrant? Do you need to get married before you get kicked out of the country?”

“No, I was born in Portland Oregon, actually,” he assured me. “It’s all because of a family matter, which I’ll have to explain later.”

I’m not sure I understand why a family matter would force him to marry before a certain day, unless it has something to do with an inheritance or something. And my guess is that he’s not going to tell me the details no matter what.

“What is it you actually need from me,” I question, suspicious of everything at this point. “I want to know what I’m actually agreeing to!”

“All I need from you is a signature or two, and your promise to appear happily married at a couple of family events,” he straight up tells me. “We can have separate bedrooms if that’s what you want, although we do need to share the same address. I promise not to have any expectations regarding cooking, cleaning, or keeping a job. And if you want a divorce after a while, I’ll give it to you, along with a sum of money for each year of our marriage which will be stipulated upon in our prenup agreement. And there must be fidelity. We both must agree to divorce if we want to see other people. There are additional clauses and penalties in the prenup about that.”

“I do not want nor need your money,” I told him, which obviously surprised him. “I make enough on my own. The prenup had better include language protecting my assets from you, in the event of a divorce!”

“Does that mean you’re willing to be my bride?” He asks, smiling that I had obviously slipped up and given away that I was weakening to his persuasive argument. I’ve never been very good at poker, as I’ve been told more than once that I wear my heart on my sleeve. Mark gets down on one knee, takes my hand in his, and looks at me with those big brown puppy dog eyes. “Amanda, will you do me the great honor of becoming my wife?”

“I… I suppose I will,” I say. Mark suddenly kisses me on the lips in jubilation, but then I suddenly recall something. “But I have to be back from Hawaii before the Saturday after next. I have a work related event that I can’t miss.”

“I promise that can be arranged,” he says with a huge and very sexy smile. Just then I notice the privacy glass is being lowered. Mark is basically on the floor, between my knees in what looks like a compromising position, and he has lipstick on his lips. I’m sure I must be blushing underneath all my makeup.

“Sir,” the limo driver says in a dry tone, interrupting our conversation. “We have arrived at your destination.”

Then the driver is getting out and coming to open the door for us.

I hear Mark thank the driver by name, Dixon, and then tell the driver that he will text him when we next need him.

“Will that be anytime soon?” The driver asks. “Your mother is requesting the use of the limo.”

“Is the reception here, or another location?” Mark asks, turning to me. I tell him that the reception is at a hotel, just half a block away.

“I shouldn’t need you again before 3:30, in that case,” Mark tells the driver, who nods and wishes us well before getting back into the fancy vehicle and driving away. Then he turns back to me. “Hopefully your brother’s officiant will be willing to do the job. Otherwise, we can just crash my own wedding later, and get it done there. But I’d prefer our marriage to be fait accompli when we show up to that. I feel it’s tacky to break up with a cheating w***e of a fiancée by text, don’t you?”

“I’ve never had a fiancé before,” I admit.

“Well, you do now!” He says, giving me another quick kiss. People passing by on the busy sidewalk make sounds of approval at what appears to be a couple in love on their wedding day standing in front of the gothic facade of the old Methodist church. “But hopefully this is going to be the shortest engagement in history!”