The Billionaire's Prescription: BWWM Interracial Billionaire Romance (7 page)

I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss your bride.

The words from earlier that afternoon echoed through Naomi’s thoughts as if on a pre-recorded loop. It still hadn’t quite sunk in that she was Mrs. Matthew Christopher Bohain, Junior. Maybe it never would. She imagined she could ninety years old, sitting hand in hand with Chris at a rest home, and continue to wonder in amazement,
This man is really my husband now
.

However, the twenty carat, princess cut diamond ring on the third finger of her left hand provided her visual proof that yes, she and Chris were husband and wife. With only their families and a small group of friends in attendance, she and Chris had gotten married in a private ceremony on his parents’ estate in Greenwich, Connecticut.

At first, Naomi had balked at the location. She didn’t want to impose on his parents, especially since Chris brought up the idea just after they’d finished the dinner where Naomi met them for the first time. “How are you going to introduce me to your parents and then ask them less than an hour later if we can get married at their house?”

“Like this.” Chris waited until his parents entered the study where they would have after-dinner drinks and said, “Hey, Naomi and I want to get married at the Greenwich house. Preferably somewhere near the water and away from the stink of the horse stables. That okay with the two of you?”

While Naomi wanted to melt into the floor from embarrassment, neither one of his parents seemed fazed by the question. In fact, Chris’ mother rushed over to Naomi and gave her a warm hug. “This is wonderful! Greenwich is perfect for a wedding. I hope you’ll allow me to make a suggestion or two. Cohan’s Flowers on Arch Street does lovely work with arrangements. I know he’d do a fantastic job for your wedding, as would Sonja Hewitt’s catering service . . .”

Most brides-to-be might have resented the intrusion of their future mother-in-law into the details of their wedding planning. However, Naomi welcomed Elizabeth’s advice, even to the point of letting her take over planning the ceremony in its entirety. She’d never been one of those women who’d grown up fantasizing about what kind of dress and wedding she’d have. All she wanted to do was marry Chris with the minimum amount of fuss possible. Elizabeth’s taking control allowed Naomi to do just that.

Not having to focus on wedding details allowed Naomi to concentrate on wrapping things up at Philadelphia County Memorial. Lily had followed through on her threat and spread nasty rumors throughout the hospital about how Naomi slept with Chris to secure the ten million dollar donation for the ER. But the revenge came back to bite her in the ass when Lily eventually got fired from the research center for insubordination. However, the rumors took its toll on Naomi’s career, especially once word spread that she and Chris were indeed a couple.

Even though Staci, the head of the ER, and a few PCM board members assured Naomi they gave absolutely no credence to Lily’s accusations, Naomi knew her relationship with Chris would affect how they viewed her work. She realized any future promotions she might receive might be viewed with cynicism by some, thinking she’d gotten it not on merit but because of Chris’ power and wealth. And more than one PCM senior executive had hinted they expected Naomi’s connections to Chris and BGC to result in even more and larger donations to the hospital. That’s when she knew her position at PCM was no longer tenable.

When she’d learned of the open teaching position at Manhattan General Hospital, Naomi applied for it, seeing it as a way to continue with the career she loved while being closer to Chris. The night she learned she’d been hired as an adjunct professor in emergency services at MGH was the same night Chris had presented her with the gorgeous ring and asked her to marry him.

“You have to say yes,” he’d said. “You’ve kept me dangling long enough.”

“Yeah, you’ve been waiting an eternity in the three whole months since we first met. Someone should award you a Nobel prize for being so patient.”

But all the sarcasm drained out of her once he slid the ring on her finger, which fit perfectly. She hugged him tightly, pressing her body against his. “I love you! I can’t wait until we’re married and I’m officially your wife.”

Chris returned her embrace, rubbing his hands up and down her back. “Maybe now you’ll stop taking the birth control pills so we can get started on making a little MC Hammer?”

“I’ll stop taking the birth control pills so we can get started on making a baby with a sensible name.”

With that conversation having taken place not more than three weeks ago, Naomi couldn’t help but reflect how quickly time had flown by. Now she and Chris were married ─ she loved saying it, if only to herself,
married
─ and on their honeymoon. His parents had lent them their ocean front beach house in the Bahamas and she stood on its veranda, watching the waves roll in and out as the sun set. She couldn’t think of a more perfect spot to spend her first night as a married woman.

Naomi sensed Chris’ nearness even before she heard his footsteps or felt his arms wrap around her waist. She smiled as he kissed the back of her neck and said, “You look so gorgeous standing here. I can’t believe I’m married to such a beautiful and intelligent woman.”

“Funny, I was just thinking I can’t believe I’m married to such a smart, sexy guy.” She lifted her arm behind her so she could tangle her fingers in his hair. “Maybe we’re supposed to be together, you think?”

“I don’t think, I know.” He turned her around so they were eye to eye. “I love you, Naomi. This is just the first of what I hope are many, many nights of our life together as husband and wife.”

His fingers caressed her stomach as he added, “And hopefully not before too long, that life will include a bunch of children. You think those birth control pills are out of your system yet? It would be awesome if I knocked you up before we got back to New York.”

“That’s probably not going to happen. The pills themselves are already out of my system but it might take another three months before I start ovulating again.”

Chris made a mock pout. “Shoot, I was aiming for a honeymoon baby.”

“There’s nothing stopping us from trying for one anyway. Didn’t you once say you never met a challenge you couldn’t lick?”

“Yup.” His lips curved into a wicked smile. “So what do you say, Mrs. Bohain? Should we go inside and start trying to conceive little MC Hammer or MC Hammerina?”

Naomi allowed him to take her hand and pull her inside the spacious beach house, but she said, “You’re really going to have to let that go. Hammer, Hammerina, Hammerette . . . none of it is going to be part of the baby naming vocabulary. But I tell you what, when we get back home, we can get a dog and you can call him MC Hammer all you want.”

He lifted her hand and kissed her palm. “Okay, okay, I give in. As long as the baby is a combination of the two of us, he or she will be winner, even without the awesome name MC Hammer.”

Anticipation and desire swept over Naomi as they entered the bedroom. But in addition to the usual stirrings she experienced right before she and Chris made love, hope and optimism swelled within her. Officially united with the man she loved and preparing to conceive his child, Naomi knew life couldn’t get more perfect than what she was experiencing at this moment.

THE END

The Alpha Billionaire’s Obsession (Part One)

The Alpha Billionaire’s Game (Part Two)

The Billionaire : MINE (Part 1)

Secret Billionaire’s Vacation

Jayne stood outside her building, waiting for the car to come get her. The job her agent had offered her the night before wasn’t the role of Ariel, but that wasn’t strange. What was unusual was the offer she 
had
 been given.

It was just a simple something for one night, just a gig, where she would accompany the client to a dinner at an arts gala. “You’re gonna want to take this,” her agent said, “because the guest list is incredible. All people you want to meet.” Besides, the pay was great, and she was assured the dinner was all that was required. It would also cover her rent for the month, so finally Jayne reluctantly agreed. Even if she did get the Ariel gig, or maybe especially, times would be tough for the next few months. Great acting jobs often didn’t pay. 
What Carson Weeks had said was true, that artists supported the arts more than anyone else, in a sense.
 
But nothing to be done about that aside from do the occasional weirdo gig. 
In any case, she was told to dress formally, be ready by six, and she would be home by eleven or midnight.

Her dress was simple taffeta, black, with one large strategically placed hip ruffle over a short skirt. Catching her reflection in a store window, she hoped she looked nice enough. Ella had done her makeup, giving her a nice mauve lip and lots of mascara. She also lent her a beaded purse she had picked up one afternoon from Soho – with butterflies in its mosaic pattern. Pretty. Her eyes drifted up. 
Whoever hired me for this better not try anything, 
she thought, looking at the sheer panel that covered the top of her chest, revealing a hint of cleavage. 
I am an actress, not an escort.

Just then a car pulled up: a black Bentley limousine, with its unmistakable grill and smooth lines. The driver jumped out. 
What, is this for me?

“Hello Jayne,” he said in a distinctly British accent. “Lovely to see you. My name’s Wilbur – I’m Mr. Weeks’ driver.”

Mr. Weeks!? Carson Weeks, the billionaire from the auditions? He’s my date!?

“Thank you Wilbur,” she managed. He swiftly opened the door for her, taking her hand to help her into the vehicle. The interior was luxury defined, smooth leather, soft lighting, gentle music. A softly lit bar.

“Hello, Jayne,” said the voice from the night before. She slowly turned her head to see him again. He looked even more gorgeous and sleek close up than he did crossing the street in NYC. Young, tall, dark and handsome, and in a tuxedo.
 Wow.

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Imani King is a small town girl with a big imagination. She nurtures a passion for yoga and can often be found in the studio when she's not writing.

In her fantasies, she and her billionaire Mr. Right travel the world, exploring different cultures and each other! These daydreams are the inspiration for her sizzling stories, so what are you waiting for? Give one of them a try and let her know what you think.

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