Wanted: Billionaire's Wife Read online

  “I thought maybe we were robbed.” Danica stood behind him in the doorway, her arms protectively hugging her chest. “But...”

  He shook his head. Thieves would have left a mess. “This is the work of professional movers.”

  The hot fist in his stomach began to squeeze again. Johanna’s disappearance was total. How could he so badly miscalculate twice in the same day?

  “I was gone two weeks.” Danica’s voice was thin. “Two weeks.” Her gaze, wild and unfocused, travelled around the empty space. She shuffled into the office like a sleepwalker who couldn’t wake up. Her tote bag lay in her path, its contents scattered across the floor. Before he could clear it out of her way, her foot tangled in the thick strap.

  He lunged, grasping her shoulders to keep her upright. This close, her hair consisted of a thousand shades of gold, from honey chestnut to palest yellow. Faint freckles dusted the pale skin stretched over a small, pointed nose. Her lips were softly curved, the bottom lip presenting the perfect amount of plumpness. Vanilla spiked with cinnamon teased his nose. For a second, he was tempted to see if she tasted just as spicy sweet.

  Then reality landed a roundhouse to his gut.

  His plan for saving Ruby Hawk had disappeared with the office furnishings that used to grace the Rinaldi office.

  * * *

  “Thank you for the save.” Danica heard her voice as if it came from a long distance. Maybe she fell asleep on the plane, and this was just a bad nightmare brought on by the pressure of finishing the pitch presentation? But despite the number of blinks, the vision in front of her stayed the same.

  Luke Dallas, CEO of Ruby Hawk Technologies. A Doctor Who fan had confided in her that Luke was called Luke Dalek behind his back, because he never met a human emotion he didn’t try to exterminate.

  Luke Dallas, who had very firm muscles under his Silicon Valley uniform of blue button-down shirt paired with khakis. Underneath his clothes, he must put a Greek god to shame. She grasped the silky cotton of his shirt, his biceps flexing under her fingers. He even smelled like she imagined a Greek god would: like the outdoors after a rainstorm over a base of expensive leather and fresh citrus. The room began to spin, faster and faster, and she closed her eyes.

  “Breathe,” he said. “In and out.”

  She did as he commanded, allowing herself to lean into him, just a little, craving the intense sense of confidence and security his arms provided. Then he abruptly let go. Her eyes flew open.

  “I don’t have time to take you to urgent care if you fall and hurt yourself.” His jaw clenched as his gaze travelled the barren suite. “I have to leave.”

  Think, Danica, think fast. But her mind was a jumble of scattershot fragments mixed with bursts of pure panic. All she knew was if he left, he would take with him the chance of pitching Rinaldi Executive Search’s services to him. And with that would go her promised promotion.

  She needed to find her boss. This had to be a huge misunderstanding.

  “Johanna must have moved offices while I was gone. I was a bit hard to reach.” It was the truth. Matt’s hospital floor didn’t allow cell phones. “Let me call her.”

  She picked up her treacherous tote bag and scooped the fallen items back into it. Where was her phone? She knew she got off the plane with it. She had it in the taxi—

  Oh, no. She placed it on the taxi’s back seat while searching for the fare. And she never picked it back up. It could be anywhere from Marin to Monterey.

  “Something else wrong?” His hard stare caused her skin to prickle.

  “Nothing is wrong. I forgot something, that’s all,” she said, keeping her tone pleasant. It was if he could see through her and wasn’t impressed. Just like in high school, when the kids at the top of the social pyramid made sure she knew she would never ascend to their heights.

  He folded his arms. “Seems to me a lot is wrong. Starting with the empty office.”

  “I’m going to my desk to straighten this out. Will you give me fifteen minutes?” Please, she prayed, let there be a working office phone on the premises. And please let Johanna have an amazing explanation that didn’t defy logic.

  He nodded. She held her head high until she was behind her cubicle walls, out of his view. Then her shoulders crumbled.

  Her cubicle was empty of everything but a file box. The lid was off, and inside were the few personal items she kept in the space. On top were the comic-book action figures that used to decorate her shelves. They had been a gag gift from her brother when she moved to California, a reminder she was stronger than she looked.

  Her nose stung. She willed the tears away. Crying only caused more problems, a lesson she had learned well.

  A note was taped to the outside of the box, the cream-colored envelope embossed with Johanna’s initials. The heavy, linen-weave paper was leaden in her hands.

  Hey, Danica!

  I didn’t want to disturb you while you were with your family. But the Stavros Group offered me an amazing opportunity! I’m their new head of Asia-Pacific talent recruitment. I’ll be based in Sydney and traveling all over the world. They needed me right away so I couldn’t wait until you came back. :-(

  Britt already has a new job, yay! Speaking of, do me a favor and make sure Britt forwarded the phones to the answering service? ;-)

  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—w
ait. 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.