The Billionaire's Bought Bride and Instant Mom Chapter 47

Orion

I sat at the red light, still gripping the steering wheel hard enough to leave marks, watching that infuriating mint green convertible disappear into Manhattan traffic. The whole situation was absurd—getting schooled by a fucking Mini Cooper while driving a car that cost more than most people's houses.

But what really got under my skin wasn't the car. It was the driver.

When I'd first seen that cocky little gesture—the universal "loser" sign thrown back at me with such obvious satisfaction—my blood had boiled. Some random asshole having the audacity to mock me after a lucky maneuver in heavy traffic. But the moment I'd gotten a clear look at the driver's face, everything had shifted.

Aveline Reeves, looking absolutely triumphant until she realized who she'd just humiliated. The way her expression had gone from smug victory to frozen horror in about two seconds flat was almost worth the blow to my ego.

Almost. Because the real problem wasn't my bruised pride—it was how completely wrong I'd been about her.

First I thought she was just another gold-digger—turns out she's the most genuine teacher I've ever met. Then I figured she was broke, so I try to help her out, and she casually drops a million-dollar ring like it's nothing. And just when I assumed she didn't even own a car—or at best drives like some nervous city commuter—she fucking demolishes me in a street race.

God, she was the exact opposite of everything I expected, every single damn time.

The light turned green and I accelerated smoothly, pushing thoughts of that smug little wave out of my mind. I had bigger problems to deal with than wounded pride over a traffic light drag race.

My phone rang just as I was merging onto the avenue toward Blackwell Industries.

"Marcus," I answered through the Bluetooth. "Please tell me you have good news."

"Sir..." Marcus's voice had that careful quality it took on when he was about to deliver disappointing results. "I have the preliminary report on Dr. Reeves."

"Already? That was fast."

"That's... part of the problem, sir. The results came back too fast. And they're very strange."

I felt my jaw tighten. "Define strange."

"Well, sir, according to every database we searched, Dr. Aveline Reeves barely exists in this country. We found confirmation that she was adopted, but there are no records of her biological parents, and the adoptive family information is heavily redacted. No school records, no employment history, no credit reports—nothing that would normally exist for someone who lived here for eighteen years."

"And overseas?"

"The European records are solid. University of Geneva, doctorate in psychology, excellent academic standing. But it's like she materialized in Switzerland four years ago and then returned to the United States as a completely different person."

I pulled into the underground garage of my building, the Lamborghini's engine echoing off the concrete walls. "You're telling me someone scrubbed her domestic records?"

"That's exactly what I'm telling you, sir. And it would take serious resources to do that kind of cleanup. Government level, or someone with very deep pockets and the right connections."

"Did you use the full investigative network?"

"Yes, sir. I contacted every firm we normally work with, called in favors from five different agencies. The response was universal—it's like hitting a wall. Someone very powerful doesn't want Dr. Reeves's past examined."

I sat in the parking garage for a moment after ending the call, staring at my reflection in the rearview mirror. What the hell had I gotten myself into? First the mysterious ring that matched the one from my hotel room, now a background check that suggested Aveline was either a spy or under federal protection.

The elevator ride to the executive floor did nothing to improve my mood. I pushed through the double doors to my office, already mentally preparing for a day of difficult questions with no good answers.

What I found instead was my grandfather lounging in my chair, leaning back with his hands behind his head while one of my junior analysts—a pretty brunette named Sarah—perched on the edge of my desk, laughing at something he'd just said.

"Grandfather," I said, my voice flat with irritation. "What are you doing?"

Sarah immediately jumped to her feet, her face flushing red. "Mr. Blackwell! I was just—Mr. Bryce was asking about the quarterly reports—"

"Get out," I said, not taking my eyes off Bryce.

Sarah practically fled, and I waited until the door closed before turning the full force of my displeasure on the old man who was still lounging in my chair like he owned the place.

"In the future," I said coldly, "don't flirt with my employees. They have work to do, and I don't need harassment lawsuits because you can't keep your hands to yourself."

Bryce stood up with obvious reluctance, smoothing down his unnecessarily flashy vest. "My boy, you're far too uptight. A little harmless flirtation never hurt anyone."

"Nothing about you is harmless," I replied, settling into my chair and glaring at him. "What do you want?"

Bryce's expression shifted, and for just a moment I caught a glimpse of something wounded in his eyes. "Still cranky about last night, are we? Upset that your mysterious wife failed to make an appearance at my celebration?"

I laughed harshly. "I don't give a fuck about that arrangement. If anything, I'm concerned about you. The great Bryce Blackwell, patriarch of the family, publicly stood up by some nobody he'd never even met. That had to sting."

Hit a nerve. Bryce's jaw tightened, and his usual jovial mask slipped slightly.

"She wasn't supposed to be important," he said defensively. "Just a legal arrangement, nothing more. When I told them our family name, I even used an alias. That's how little I cared about maintaining any real connection."

"Right," I said with mock sympathy. "Just your spiritual lucky charm who was supposed to channel positive energy to save my life. Wasn't that the whole mystical bullshit reasoning?"

Bryce waved a dismissive hand, but I could see the embarrassment in his posture. "Ancient history. Besides, I've been doing some research, and I believe your luck has already shifted to a new source."

Despite myself, I was curious. "Oh really? And where is this magical new source of fortune supposed to be?"

"Ryan's teacher," Bryce said with obvious satisfaction. "Miss Aveline. Beautiful girl—looks exactly like your grandmother did when she was young. I can sense these things, you know. She's your new lucky star."

The mention of Aveline made my stomach tighten with a complex mix of attraction and suspicion. The woman with the scrubbed background and the mysterious ring connections and the ability to make my son smile.

"I think I'll pass," I said carefully. "I don't need that kind of complication in my life right now."

"Complication?" Bryce's eyebrows shot up with interest. "What kind of complication? A woman shouldn't be complicated unless there's something interesting about her."

Jesus Christ. The last thing I needed was Grandfather's relationship advice when I was trying to figure out if Aveline was connected to my assault from that hotel night.

"Look," I said, deciding to change the subject entirely, "since you seem to have given up on my current marital situation, can we finally move forward with ending this ridiculous arrangement? I want to meet this woman, get the divorce papers signed, and be done with it."

Bryce's face lit up with obvious relief. "Actually, that's exactly why I'm here today! I've been thinking the same thing. Time to clean house, start fresh."

He pulled out a small leather appointment book that looked like it belonged in a museum. "This Friday, 2 PM. I've arranged for you to meet at the Meridian Club's private dining room. Neutral territory, completely confidential. You can finally put this whole mess behind you."