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Marry Me For Money: A Billionaire Fake Fiance Novel




  Marry Me For Money

  Ali Parker

  BrixBaxter Publishing

  Contents

  Find Ali Parker

  Description

  Introduction

  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

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  Chapter 64

  Chapter 65

  Chapter 66

  Chapter 67

  Chapter 68

  Epilogue

  Want More?

  Insider Group

  About the Author

  Copyright

  Find Ali Parker

  www.aliparkerbooks.com

  Description

  I need a wife. Now.

  It doesn’t have to do with love and living the good life. This is all about getting the money my billionaire father left to me. And I’m running out of time.

  But who proposes to a stranger after the first date?

  Me. That’s who. As if I have another choice.

  Luck is on my side though, and a beautiful model shows up in my office.

  Single? Gorgeous? Funny? All of the above.

  Our first date goes so well that I feel unsure about my decision to do this thing with her—you know, fake it. I put it off and decide to do it later, to ask for her help after we get to know each other better.

  But I like her more and more each time we meet, and eventually, offering her a ring isn’t for my dad’s money—it’s because I want her more than anything else in the world.

  Besides, who’s going to know if it’s fake or real? And does it really matter?

  Yeah. It does.

  To her…

  Introduction

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  Chapter 1

  Terran

  I should be having a blast instead of feeling as if I were facing the most important decision of my life. It was one of those rock and hard place decisions. Damned if I did and damned if I didn’t.

  “I need a drink,” I mumbled.

  “I’ll get you one, sweetie,” a pretty blond woman sitting on a leather couch across from me quickly jumped up to do just that.

  Zach looked at me and smiled. “That was easy.”

  It hadn’t exactly been what I meant. I needed a drink, but I didn’t expect her to fetch it for me. She was a guest. She returned a minute later with a margarita, the rim of the glass lined with salt. It wasn’t exactly the drink I had in mind, but it would do.

  “Thank you,” I said, unable to remember her name.

  She smiled. “Anytime Terran. If you need anything, you only have to ask.”

  I smiled and nodded my head, ignoring the flirting. I wasn’t in the mood to flirt, which was out of character for me.

  “Can you ladies give us a minute?” Zach asked.

  The four women who had followed us downstairs quickly jumped up to leave us alone. We were relaxing in the mahogany sitting room below deck on my yacht. The sound of loud music coming from the top deck reminded me this was a party. As if I needed the thumping music as a reminder. Zach Bailey, my best friend in the world and the guest of honor at this little shindig on the Pacific Ocean, a few miles off the coast of Los Angeles, had been telling me to loosen up for the past hour.

  “Dude, relax, get loose, this is my birthday party, and you’re killing the vibe,” Zach complained from his seat next to mine.

  I shrugged. “I’m relaxed. I needed a minute out of the sun,” I lied.

  “You’re not relaxed. You’re walking around as if you are personally responsible for holding up the world.”

  I chuckled. “Sorry. I don’t want to be a downer. Let’s go up.”

  We walked up the stairs to the top deck where the party was happening. I had spared no expense to give Zach a stellar party with excellent food catered by one of the top chefs in the city and a lot of alcohol. I heard a splash and knew someone had just hit the water. I had hired lifeguards as well, knowing alcohol and water could be a deadly combination.

  “You need to do that,” Zach mumbled.

  “Do what?” I asked, walking in front of him up the stairs.

  “Jump into the water, shake off the worry,” he suggested.

  I looked down at the swim shorts I was wearing. Bathing suits were the dress code for the party.

  “I might,” I shot back.

  He laughed. “I doubt that. You’d get that pretty little mop of hair all messed up,” he teased.

  I self-consciously ran a hand through the shaggy black hair on my head that was currently free of hair products. When I was going to a formal business meeting, it was usually gelled back. A normal day at the office, I kept it tamed, but today, it was free to fall around my face in somewhat of an old-school Johnny Depp way.

  “I’m relaxed. Don’t let me hold you back,” I told my blond-haired, blue-eyed friend that although celebrating his thirty-second birthday, he didn’t look a day older than twenty-five.

  We hit the top deck where the alcohol was freely flowing, fueling the gyrating bodies on the makeshift dancefloor. I could hear more splashing and knew someone else had just used the slide. Everyone was having a good time.

  “Happy birthday,” a lovely redhead said, kissing Zach on the mouth before running her hand across his bare chest and walking away.

  He was grinning like a fool.

  “Who was that?” I asked.

  He shrugged a shoulder. “Not a clue.”

  I laughed at the boldness of the woman. The amount of skin showing was alarming. I was sure some of the bathing suits the women were wearing were illegal in some countries. Dental floss would have covered more.

  I sighed. That was the goal. Two things Zach loved most in the world were beautiful women and being on the water. It was a little hard to get the guy who had everything he wanted a meaningful birthday gift.

  “I need a real drink,”
I said.

  “Good. I’m going to say hi to a couple people I do know,” Zach said before walking away.

  I walked straight for the bar, asking for scotch, neat before turning and heading in the opposite direction of the festivities. I was usually the life of the party, but today, it just seemed like another day ticking away until I had to make a decision. I rested my arms on the railing and watched the waves rolling in, thinking about my life.

  It wasn’t long before Zach propped his elbows on the railing beside me. He was quiet for a while.

  “Are you still upset about your dad’s will?” Zach asked.

  I shrugged. “Not upset, a little stressed.”

  He laughed. “I think that’s the same thing.”

  I pushed back a chunk of my unruly black hair from my forehead and turned to look at him. “I stand to lose all this or get saddled with a ball and chain. It isn’t a decision I can make on a whim.”

  He slowly nodded his head. “I understand. I wouldn’t expect you to. I think you need to decide what is more important to you.”

  I groaned. “I don’t know. I like my life the way it is. A wife would just add a dose of drama. I don’t want a relationship. I don’t want the hassle of checking in with someone.”

  “Or getting in trouble for cheating or having a wandering eye,” Zach added.

  “Exactly. I like my freedom. I like the luxury of flirting with an attractive woman if I want to. I don’t want the proverbial ball and chain holding me back.”

  He sighed. “Your yacht, your condo, the beach house, the cars, aren’t all those things worth a ball and chain?”

  I glared at him from behind my dark, thousand-dollar sunglasses. “I don’t know. That’s the problem.”

  He laughed. “It’s a wife, it isn’t a death sentence.”

  “You don’t want to be married any more than I do.”

  Zach chuckled. “No, but my dad didn’t put a clause in his will demanding I be married by thirty-five or I didn’t inherit. He probably knew I’d never be able to do that. It isn’t in the Bailey DNA. Baileys were meant to be bachelors enjoying all the women the world has to offer.”

  I groaned. “My dad was one of the guys who believed you mate for life. He never remarried after my mom died. He was never interested in another woman. When I was ten, I used to appreciate that. I didn’t want a stepmom. I never knew he would insist I be like him. I’m not built to have only one woman.”

  “Me either. Are you sure you can’t persuade the attorney handling the will to ignore the clause?” he asked.

  It was the same question I had asked myself several times. “I tried. He is one of my dad’s oldest friends. He won’t budge. I even offered to give him a chunk of the inheritance.”

  “Shit,” Zach echoed my exact sentiments.

  “I go back and forth between giving up the money and doing what he has demanded. I can’t seem to make up my mind.”

  “It’s a lot of money to give up, but it isn’t like you’ll be a pauper. You’ve made your own fortune,” Zach reminded me.

  I nodded. “I know, but what if I put out one bad campaign. All it takes is one to lose your reputation in the industry. You know the ad world is cutthroat. I would like to have a backup plan in case I lose everything.”

  “You’re not going to lose everything. You’re too damn smart for that. Relax.”

  I shook my head. “Easier said than done.”

  “Okay, so you have to make a decision within the next couple of months. Nothing changes today, right now, on your beautiful yacht filled with gorgeous women who would all love the chance to help you unwind. We’ll worry about all the other stuff tomorrow.”

  “What if I can’t find a woman to marry me?” I confessed one of my many fears.

  Zach scoffed. “You know you are one of the hottest bachelors in the country. How you managed to get so damn tall is beyond me. Women are drawn to that whole tall, dark and devasting thing, which I hate you for.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Ya, because you are really suffering from a lack of ladies interested in you.”

  He laughed, knowing I was right. “Look, you know what you have to do. Hell, maybe your future wife is back there, waiting to meet you.”

  I turned to face the opposite end of the yacht, my elbows resting on the railing behind me. I stared at the people milling about. I didn’t know most of them. I had put out an open invitation. My gift to Zach for his birthday was a party packed full of gorgeous women.

  “Somehow, I don’t think my wife is one of those women.”

  He shrugged a shoulder. “It’s the searching that will be the fun part.”

  I looked around the yacht and the luxurious furnishings. If I didn’t find a woman to marry within the next six months, there was a good chance I wouldn’t be able to afford all this. Lenders loaned to me because they knew who I was and assumed I would inherit money upon my father’s death. They didn’t know the truth. If the inheritance was divided up between several charities, that would make the news. It wouldn’t be long before my very extended line of credit dried up.

  “Maybe I could get a smaller boat and sell the condo,” I mused aloud.

  Zach gasped in exaggerated horror. “You can’t sell the yacht!”

  I shrugged a shoulder. “It’s kind of pretentious.”

  “But it’s so awesome.”

  “How often do I actually use it?”

  “We’ll use it every weekend. Don’t you dare sell this thing until I’ve had a chance to talk you out of it,” he warned.

  “Why don’t you buy a yacht?” I pointed out.

  He shrugged a shoulder. “Because you have one.”

  I laughed, shaking my head at his reasoning.

  “I’m going to get another drink. Join me. Let’s have some fun,” Zach cajoled.

  I shook my head. “I’ll be there in a second.”

  He walked away, leaving me alone with my thoughts once again. I turned around to face the water and thought about what my life would look like at this time next year. I would either be here on my yacht with a wife or no yacht and no wife.

  “Ladies, this is Terran Maddox. He could use some cheering up,” I heard Zach’s voice behind me.

  I turned to see who he was with. Two beautiful women had their arms looped through either of his bent elbows.

  I gave them each a cursory smile. A blonde and a brunette. I was naturally drawn to the blonde, but she had that empty look about her. Throwing my usual standards to the side, I looked at her and gave her my best charming smile.

  “Good afternoon ladies.”

  The blonde, realizing I had picked her, stepped forward and came to stand directly in front of me. She was wearing nothing but a tiny bright blue bikini that showed off every curve and what I decided was a surgically enhanced set of breasts. She wasn’t my future wife, but she would be fun to pass the day with. She grabbed my hand and led me toward the party. As I passed Zach and his lady friend, he grinned and winked.

  I would worry about my situation tomorrow. Today, I intended on having some fun and enjoying the last days of either my freedom or financial security.

  Chapter 2

  Hailey

  The constant flash from the camera was giving me a headache. I couldn’t wait until I got the break I needed to become an actress. A successful actress. There were millions of actresses, but only a select few ever achieved the status I wanted. For now, I was modeling. The career had paid the bills since I was a teenager, but it was time to do something different.

  “Great job, Hailey. Let’s do a series with you beside the bike since she can’t figure out how to look sexy,” the photographer, Carl, snapped.

  I climbed off the bike, giving the young, new model, Brittany, a comforting smile. “You’re doing fine. Just relax.”

  She nodded her head. I could see the disappointment in her eyes. I was like her when I first started. Too many photographers were obnoxious and rude. They didn’t treat models like human beings. They
treated them like objects to be posed and manipulated to their will.

  “She’s not doing fine. I’m going to have to retake all those shots. She looked stiff as a board,” the surly man snapped.

  “Carl, she’s doing great,” I argued.

  “Turn those fans down! They’re supposed to look like they’re riding outdoors, not in a hurricane. I want to emphasize the clothing, not the hair,” Carl ordered.

  The makeup person stepped in, powdering my nose while another woman attacked my curly blond hair, teasing it and spraying it even more than it already was. It was going to take me a week to get the crap out of my hair. The wind-blown look always meant a gallon of hairspray.

  “Is he always like this?” Brittany asked.

  I let out a long sigh. “Unfortunately, yes.”

  “Does he do all the shoots for the ad company?”