The Billionaire's Bought Bride and Instant Mom Chapter 99

Orion

My phone buzzed almost immediately with Laurent's contact information. I stared at the message, that strange feeling growing stronger.

She hung up before I could say anything else, leaving me staring at my phone with a growing sense that I'd missed something important in that conversation.

But I didn't have time to puzzle over Aveline's mercurial moods. I had a point to prove.

Laurent answered on the second ring, his accented voice immediately recognizable.

"Bonjour, Orion Blackwell," he said with obvious amusement. "To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?"

"I need jewelry," I said without preamble. "The best you have. Money is no object."

"Ah, a romantic gesture for the lovely Aveline? How wonderful that you've finally—"

"Not for Aveline," I cut him off sharply. "For someone else entirely."

"Ah, mon ami, but of course! I understand completely." Laurent's voice took on a conspiratorial tone. "You know, I myself have recently discovered the most exquisite woman here in America. A brilliant girl with eyes like emeralds and a laugh that could make angels weep. I am pursuing her with all the sincerity my French heart can muster—flowers every day, handwritten letters, even learning to cook her grandmother's apple tart recipe. C'est l'amour, you understand?"

"Laurent, this isn't a romance—"

"Non, non, do not be embarrassed! Love makes fools of us all. Just last week I stood outside her apartment building in the rain for three hours with a violin player I hired, serenading her like some lovesick schoolboy. The neighbors called the police, but she came down to kiss me, so—"

"If you must know," I interrupted firmly, "this is for someone I'm breaking up with. Someone who apparently thinks she can impress me with talk of financial flexibility and conditions."

There was a pause. "Ah. I see. And you wish to... what is the expression... show her who has the bigger checkbook?"

"Something like that."

Laurent chuckled. "As it happens, you're in luck. I've been in New York for the past few months, expanding my business here, and I have some pieces that would make a Medici weep with envy."

"Perfect. I want a full set—necklace, earrings, bracelet, whatever you think would make the most impressive statement. I want her to understand exactly what kind of resources she's dealing with."

"Understood completely. Shall we say... two million for the complete parure? The centerpiece is a 15-carat pink diamond that once belonged to Russian royalty."

"Done."

"Excellent. I'll have everything ready within the hour."

After I hung up, I felt a surge of satisfaction. Let my mysterious wife try to negotiate with me after she saw what I considered appropriate compensation for six years of marriage. Let her understand that whatever game she thought she was playing, I was operating on a completely different level.

I was just putting on my jacket, preparing to leave for Laurent's studio, when Mitchell came rushing into my office with an expression of barely controlled panic.

"Sir!" he gasped, slightly out of breath. "I'm afraid we have a situation."

I paused in adjusting my cufflinks. "What kind of situation?"

"It's your grandfather, sir. Master Bryce has just arrived at the house, and he's brought... a guest."

"What kind of guest?"

Mitchell's face went through several expressions before settling on profound discomfort.

"A young woman, sir. Very young. I would estimate her age at perhaps twenty, twenty-one at most."

I stared at him in complete disbelief.

"Twenty?" I repeated. "Twenty years old?"

"Yes, sir. She appears to be... how shall I put this... more than just a casual acquaintance."

*Jesus Christ.*

My grandfather was many things—eccentric, manipulative, charming when it suited him, and possessed of an appreciation for beautiful women that had scandalized Manhattan society for decades. But even by his standards, bringing a woman young enough to be his great-granddaughter to the family home was beyond the pale.

"Where are they now?" I asked, already dreading the answer.

"In the main sitting room, sir. Master Bryce asked me to prepare tea and... inform you of his arrival."

I closed my eyes and counted to ten, trying to process this latest addition to my already complicated week.

A corporate war with my uncle. A criminal manhunt for my psychotic cousin. A divorce meeting with a gold-digging wife I'd never met. And now my grandfather was apparently having some kind of late-life crisis involving a woman who was barely legal.

*Perfect. Absolutely fucking perfect.*

"Tell my grandfather I'll be right there," I said grimly. "And Mitchell? Start drafting a statement for the press. Something about family values and temporary misunderstandings. We're going to need it."

This day just kept getting better and better.