Defending The Billionaire

By: July Knight

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Finally, he had found a way out of his sham of a marriage. After three months of deep regret for marrying a woman he barely knew, just to save a business he created himself, he had found a way out. The window of opportunity opened itself right before his eyes, just an hour before he was to have dinner with the petite blonde.

Relief swept over him like a cool shower after being stuck in a dessert, and he smirked while waiting to ambush her.

“Love, what are you having for dinner tonight? I’m thinking of getting the swordfish,” she spoke, smiling while fiddling with the menu.

He dared not to respond. He only sat, waiting to tell her what he had found out about her. Excitement brewed in his belly for he was about to get out of a union       that he never wanted to be in. Pressure from his PR staff and the VP from his company persuaded him into marrying the young woman to clean up his bad boy image.

Nights of galavanting with multiple women, usually models, and run-ins with the law littered the tabloids, making him the most ineligible bachelor. They branded him an irresponsible man-whore with an anger problem. There were the threesomes in Saint Tropez. The one-night stands in Vegas. The DUI in Denver. The fistfights at the bar. All of those incidents had fiercely soiled his reputation and damaged his beloved business in the process.

A business he started up from the ground after being thrown out of Harvard Law for fighting. A business he toiled months, years, to get off the ground, making it a publicly traded company and him multi-millions of dollars in the process. A business he would do anything for, including marry a woman for PR benefits.

But he never wanted to be married, especially not to a woman like her. He didn’t want a woman who had no ambition but to be an ornament on a wealthy man’s arm. Kennedy Paul only slept with those women. Toyed with them until he was done. But it all caught up to him.

Ken wanted to take his business to the next level by merging with a much larger corporation, but they were skeptical about his image tainting their brand. So, he did it. What his pesky PR representatives had been pressuring him to do for years. Marry a woman who had nothing and have her sign a non-disclosure agreement and pre-nup. And it’s exactly what he did.

After weeks of his PR team bringing him back dossiers of different women and him stubbornly turning them all down, he finally settled on the one his Vice President recommended. A hot blonde who was an ex au-pair turned model.

Good, someone who was at least domestic. He wrongly thought.

But the pretty young blonde was everything but domestic. She was incredibly messy, obnoxious and spent way too much of his money than he cared to share. Not to mention he never wanted to touch her. Her nasty habits left him completely unattracted to her, and after three months of marriage, he could barely tolerate her.

Without care for the beautiful mansion he built and interior decorated, she would leave her dirty underwear on the bathroom floor, plates with food throughout the house, teabags that stained marble countertops, and she smoked, a filthy habit he couldn't stand. So, imagine his eagerness when he caught her trying to break in one of his safes the same night he found another driver’s license of hers that had a completely different last name than the one she had given him.

Glee struck him like fireworks. He could return to his bachelor ways, a hot model in his bed every night that went home in the morning. Only this time, he would be inconspicuous. No longer would he hang out in the clubs with these licentious women; instead, he would keep them to himself to preserve his image.

“Honey, are you listening? I asked you, what do you want to order?” Her airy voice interrupted his thoughts.

Sinisterly, he smirked and shook his head. “I’m not hungry, Bambi Taylor.” He spoke the name he discovered on the old driver’s license. The name she had given him was Bambi Johnson.

“I’m sorry? Why are you calling me that?”

“Is that not your name?” His eyebrow curled to the opulent ceiling of the decadent restaurant, Le Blanc.

“No. What are you talking about, baby? Are you okay?” Her voice trembled as her eyes searched for confirmation that it was a joke. Shocked that he must’ve stumbled upon her secret, her knees weakened, and if she had been standing she would have surely fallen.

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