How To Wed A Billionaire (Book Three): How To Wed A Billionaire, #3

By Layla Valentine

This is the third book in the How To Wed A Billionaire series.

 

He's the kind of guy every gal dreams about…
Devilishly gorgeous, irresistibly charming, outrageously rich, and up to now, unattainable.
So how do you wed a billionaire?
Especially one you've only just met?

Her:

I'm a Texan ranch girl, trying to make it big in LA,
One of a million hopeful actresses, hustling daily, and down on my luck.
So when I'm offered a spot on reality TV, I'm conflicted:
The exposure for my career could be life-changing…
But there's always a catch!
I have to marry a stranger, and live with him for two weeks,
Wherever will I draw the line between acting a role and being myself on-camera?
Especially when I find my new husband is a totally frustrating hottie—who I can't stand!
And what's more…
I soon discover he's a billionaire!

Him:

I'm a self-made billionaire, a tech-whizz, and dare I say, a catch…
My most recent creation is my best yet: a scientifically perfect dating app.
And now I've got the perfect hook:
Match myself up with a girl the app deems perfect for me, and marry her on the spot.
Of course, it's all a big publicity stunt
But my new wife doesn't need to know!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Layla Valentine
• Release date: Apr 26, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201113551

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Iscan the horizon with such effort my eyes start to hurt. I don’t see anything.

I thought I saw…hm. Aaron’s right behind me. With every slight rock of the boat, his chest brushes against my back.

My fingers tighten around the railing, and it’s no longer the appearance of whales that I’m focused on. It’s him.

Since that morning he went down on me and I tried to swear him off, we’ve had sex like there’s nothing else in the world to do. I can’t get enough of him.

There are moments of hesitation, sure. Reminders to myself that I shouldn’t do this. Reasons I run through for it all going wrong.

Inevitably, I always end up back in his arms.

We have one week left. At this point, I figure I should stop stressing and just enjoy what we have. Real or fake. Short or long.

That’s the thing I’ve been telling myself on repeat. I’ve never been good at casual flings, but if this thing between us is best staying as exactly that, then so be it.

There. Aaron points, and I catch it right in time.

A spray of water, and then, the surfacing whale.

I gasp. Oh, wow.

Yeah. His breath tickles my ear. I relax into him.

Surely, the cameras are capturing how friendly we are with each other. And I think Tina knows that Aaron and I are more than roommates. I caught her watching us with a pleased smile this morning.

So, everything is good. The image I wanted to present on this show is easier to pull off now, because I’m actually physically—and maybe even a little romantically—attracted to Aaron.

It feels like I should be happier than I am, though. It’s hard navigating a situation that has no comparison. It would be great if I had Molly to talk to about things.

There’s another one. Aaron points.

I don’t see it. I frown.

It’s…oh, wait. I think that’s seaweed.

Good one, I laugh.

The boat hits a big wave, and some water splashes onto the deck. Luzia shrieks and steps away from it, and one of the cameramen curses. I guess filming on a boat isn’t one of the easier things to do.

You two having fun? It’s the whale-watching guide. Per Tina’s request, she’s left us alone for the majority of the privately-booked tour.

We are. Aaron hooks his arm around my waist.

The giant grin I’m wearing isn’t for show. When he touches me, I’m instantly on top of the world.

We’re turning around now, the guide says. But keep your eyes open. There’s still the chance of seeing activity.

We can cut, Tina says. We have enough.

The grateful crew retreats to the center of the boat. Luzia, unfortunately, is dripping wet from the splashing she took. She dabs at her face and arms with some towels the tour guide brings her.

Aaron and I stay at the railing, his arm still around me. A couple crew members look our way with mild interest. I suppose they’re wondering how much of mine and Aaron’s relationship is for show and how much is real.

We haven’t kissed on camera or anything, but we’ve been really cozy. Still, it’s nothing compared to how things are when no one else is around. There have been very few articles of clothing in our lives the last few days.

Our mid-point interviews are today, Aaron says.

I tense. Shoot. I forgot.

Are you nervous?

No.

We’re still facing the same direction, so he can’t see my face. I only said I’m not nervous because I’m hoping to convince myself of that fact.

I’ve never done an interview before, except the short ones at auditions and that really extensive one I had to go through to get on this show.

You’ll do great, Aaron says, like he can feel the nerves buzzing off of me.

I bet you’ll do better.

Why’s that?

Because you’re a business guy, I say. You’re used to talking with people and selling them ideas.

Yeah, but you’re good at being you.

What? I laugh, genuinely flattered.

You are. It’s the reason they picked you for this show.

And why did they pick you, then?

Aaron turns his face to the approaching shore. Looks like we’ll be docked within a few minutes.

From the dock, we’re shuttled back to the Santa Monica house, where a few crew members have stayed behind to set up an empty bedroom for our interviews.

Before leaving for today’s filmed date, I made sure to shut my bedroom door. Knowing there were people in the house who could poke around and discover things if they wanted to—like that Aaron and I have been sharing a bed—made me feel weird.

It sure will be nice to be back in my private apartment, where the only invasion of privacy I have to worry about is Molly using my razor.

Then again…

There’s one big thing I’ll miss.

My heart constricts as we enter the house. Tina’s already told us Aaron’s interview will be first, so I grab a sparkling water and head to the back patio. My anxiety is getting worse the closer I get to my interview.

One of the windows on the second floor must be open, because voices drift down. Aaron’s deep rumble causes butterflies in my stomach. Popping the top on the sparkling water, I take a small sip.

The back door opens, and Luzia emerges. She’s pulled her damp hair back, but her shoes are still wet. Without saying anything, she sits on the seat