Marrying the Billionaire - Macie St. James Page 0,15

had friends over. The part where he had been able to attract a woman and convince her to spend the rest of her life with him.

The part he always seemed to mess up.

“So what type of woman do you need me to be to impress your mother?” Charlie asked.

Nicholas looked over at her. Was she serious? “Exactly the type of woman you are. You’re perfect.”

Those last two words might have been a little on the heavy-handed side. Charlie’s eyes widened, but she didn’t take her gaze off the windshield. Had he just called her perfect? She was, but he didn’t mean it in a direct compliment sort of way. He meant that she was perfect to parade in front of his mother and all his friends.

Of course, he wouldn’t tell her that.

He decided to change the subject. “The more pressing question is, what type of man do you need me to be to impress Shellie Ashworth and all her friends?”

A long silence met that question. He waited patiently for her to answer, wondering if the delay meant she was having second thoughts about asking him to help out.

“Act like a billionaire.”

He frowned, running those words through his mind before repeating them. “Act like a billionaire.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her nod. “Yep.”

“Exactly how does a billionaire act?”

“I don’t know. Rich?”

Nicholas thought of all the billionaires he knew. There weren’t that many, actually. There were quite a few millionaires in his circle of friends, though, and plenty more who were comfortably settled in the six-figure zone. He knew exactly how they acted because he strove not to act that way.

“I think I have it,” Nicholas said. “Act like a total tool?”

Charlie gasped. “No!”

He laughed. “I didn’t figure that would go over too well.”

“Just, you know, be poised and gentlemanly and…you.”

“Me?”

“Be yourself. You’re perfect just the way you are.”

Hadn’t that been exactly the compliment he’d given her a few minutes earlier? And he’d meant it in the context of the impression she was sure to make on his mother. He was fairly sure she’d meant it in a similar context.

“Let’s do this,” Nicholas said, turning to flash her a big smile before pressing down on the gas to speed past an SUV that was going ten miles below the speed limit.

7

Charlie had been a bundle of nerves all day. By the time they stood at the registration desk, she wondered if someone could get so nervous, she passed out. That would be just her luck. She would faint right here in the lobby, and all her former classmates would wander in and see it. That would be all anyone talked about the rest of the weekend—the dork from school who passed out upon arrival.

“Name?”

The desk clerk was speaking to her, which meant she hadn’t fainted. She’d managed to stay upright, Nicholas standing next to her in a mostly empty lobby. The few people who were scattered about weren’t people she recognized. Not that she was sure she’d even be able to recognize people she hadn’t seen in ten years.

“Charlie McLaughlin,” she said. “I called earlier this week and they said they’d set us up in rooms next to each other.”

It was the best resolution she could think of, considering she did not want to share a room with Nicholas. But if her classmates saw that she and her fiancé weren’t in the same room, they might have questions. It was just easier to be next to each other to reduce the risk that anyone would notice they weren’t sharing a room.

But the desk clerk frowned. That was not a good sign. Charlie’s nervousness began to escalate to panic as she contemplated the possibility of trying to share a small hotel room with a billionaire. The best she could hope for, if that was the case, was that there were two beds in the room, but things like trying to shower or—gasp—use the bathroom with him in the same small space… She didn’t even want to think about it.

“I have you in the presidential suite,” the desk clerk said.

“Me?” Charlie looked over at Nicholas. “That can’t be right.”

“It is. I called. I upgraded us.” Nicholas handed over his credit card, which Charlie couldn’t help but notice was solid black. Didn’t a black credit card mean something? She was pretty sure they were rare.

“Yes, Mr. Shaw. You’ll be on the top floor. I’ll get your room key. We’ll have your luggage up momentarily.”

Charlie looked over at him. “The presidential suite?