The Resilient One: A Billionaire Bride Pact Romance

  COPYRIGHT ©2016 by Camille Coats Checketts

  All rights reserved

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  COPYRIGHT ©2016 by Camille Coats Checketts

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Birch River Publishing

  Smithfield, Utah

  Published in the United States of America

  Cover design: Christina Dymock

  Interior design: Heather Justesen

  Editing: Daniel Coleman

  To my sweetheart of a friend, Jeanette Lewis. Thank you for including me in The Billionaire Bride Pact and for being such a wonderful example of an amazing mother, writer, and friend.

  I’ve heard it said that some people come into your life and quickly leave—others leave footprints on your heart. Jeanette and Cami are two wonderful authors and women who have left their mark on my heart. Their overwhelming support, knowledge, and general goodness have pushed me forward as a writer and nurtured me as a friend. That’s why I’m pleased to introduce you to their new and innovative series: The Billionaire Bride Pact Romances.

  In each story, you’ll find romance and character growth. I almost wrote personal growth—forgetting these are works of fiction—because the books we read become a part of us, their words stamped into our souls. As with any good book, I disappeared into the pages for a while and was able to walk sandy beaches, visit a glass blowing shop, and spend time with a group of women who had made a pact—a pact that influenced their lives, their loves, and their dreams.

  I encourage you to put your feet up, grab a cup of something wonderful, and fall in love with a billionaire today.

  Wishing you all the best,

  Lucy McConnell

  Author of The Professional Bride

  I, Alyssa Armsworth, do solemnly swear that someday I will marry a billionaire and live happily ever after. If I fail to meet my pledge, I will stand up at my wedding reception and sing the Camp Wallakee theme song.

  Alyssa’s uneven gait pounded through the miles as she enjoyed the running path along Ka’anapali Beach. She had to cut away from the water line and up to the road because of the rocky shoreline next to the Hilton, but within half a mile she could see the ocean again. Life was just better when she could see the ocean.

  A loud trumpet blasted through her earbuds. Alyssa jumped. Her heart hammered as she forced her legs out of their rhythm and slowed to a walk. She pulled her earbuds out and retrieved the phone from the pouch in her running pants, cursing her best friend, Maryn, for putting the annoying trumpet as her ringtone and cursing herself for not changing it.

  “Why haven’t you answered my calls?”

  “Sprinting makes the palms a bit slick.” Better not to admit she didn’t answer last night because she was editing photos and didn’t want to be interrupted.

  “Well, stop sprinting and answer the blasted phone.” Maryn huffed. “The best friend should have priority over everything else. You know I’m just jealous because you can outrun me even with your nubbin of a foot, but it always stresses me out when you sprint. What if you fell?”

  Alyssa stopped, breathing deeply and focusing on the picturesque Airport Beach, loving the taste of salt in the air. The water lapped onto the beige sand from an ocean as dark blue as midnight. She loved Maui early in the morning in January. The weather was beautiful as always, but the tourists were scarce. She leaned forward to stretch tight hamstrings. Her dark ponytail fell over her shoulder and obscured the view. She pushed it away. She wasn’t offended by Maryn’s reference to her misshapen foot. It did make running more difficult, but she wasn’t going to let a deformity she’d dealt with since birth dictate her life.

  “You do realize it’s six a.m.?” Alyssa asked. Maryn usually wasn’t an early riser, unless she had inspiration to write an article on a celebrity or some other sensational story that would make her money. Six a.m. in Maui would mean eight a.m. in Los Angeles. Still too early for her night owl of a friend.

  “Who cares? I need a favor.”

  “No. You?” Alyssa hoped she laid the sarcasm on thick enough. Maryn was forever in need of favors to boost her freelance career. It used to work well when Alyssa was developing her portfolio as a photographer, but her brand of capturing candid human interaction had taken off and she was now sold in studios throughout America as well as a prosperous internet business. “I’m not taking any pictures of celebrities for scum-bag magazines.” It was humiliating that she’d ever done that for Maryn, but it had paid the bills when they were living on Top Ramen and showering at the local recreation center because their utilities were shut off.

  “No. I’m way past that. This new magazine is on the up and up.”

  Alyssa hoped that was true. Maryn worked for so many different magazines it was difficult to know which were smut and which were respectable. Alyssa started walking the beach trail. Might as well get in more mileage, even if it was at a slower pace. With the special orthotics in her shoe, she barely limped. Thank heavens for modern medicine.

  “So…” Maryn continued when Alyssa didn’t reply. “All I need you to do is meet a guy and get him to ask you out.”

  “What?” Alyssa stopped walking again.

  “Hey, I understand the life of a recluse is oh so appealing and good-looking men are oh so scary, but this is going to be easy as a chocolate truffle. He’s filthy rich, hot, and he’s coming to you. Plus, if you land him you could be number three of the twelve to keep The Pact. Can’t wait to trap my own hot Richie.” Maryn laughed, obviously pleased with herself, but Alyssa knew her friend would never marry a wealthy man. She had too many issues from being half-starved most of her life.

  “I am so confused right now.” Alyssa tried to breathe slowly and watch the waves to bring some sense of calm. She did not need to be reminded of a pact she should never have made at girl’s camp when she was too young and stupid to understand the influence of peer pressure. A pact she had no desire to fulfill. Her dad had pushed plenty of “Richies” on her and she would never consent to being sold to the highest bidder. She focused back on her friend. How exactly was Maryn arranging for some billionaire to come to her?

  “Thanks to Nikki, Holly, and Taylor’s exclusive interviews, and Erin’s ideas for how to sniff out the men with money, my article on how to pick up billionaires went viral.” Maryn squealed happily. “Of course I didn’t share that Taylor is already divorced, would’ve put a damper on the situation. Now I’ve got several magazines begging me for a follow-up so I thought, hey, let’s do something on how to meet those reclusive Richies. The humble, sweet ones that everyone wants to get their hands on.”

  It was much too easy to imagine Maryn rubbing her hands together in anticipation.

  “I’m happy for Nikki and Holly, but honestly they can keep their billionaire husbands.” Nikki had been the picture of bridal bliss at her wedding a couple of months ago. Holly on the other hand didn’t look thrilled with life. Hopefully she was happy. “But remember,” Alyssa said to Maryn. “I’m the ‘prude’. I’ll never marry a rich man.” She was perfectly content with her career and no man controlling her like her father had attempted to do.

  “Would you forget about that jerk? I swear, if I could cut his parts
off I would. You are not a prude just because you wouldn’t give Hugh what he wanted. That man thought he was Hugh Hefner and you were a Playboy Bunny. Nasty a-hole!”

  Alyssa winced. She shouldn’t have said anything that brought Hugh into the conversation. It never failed to rile Maryn. A cool breeze made her shiver. “So how am I supposed to help you with your article?” Alyssa asked, more than ready to forget about Hugh.

  “The magazine gave me a few leads and when I got the portfolio on this one, I knew, he was your guy.”

  “My guy?” Sweat dripped down her back and Alyssa was afraid very little of it had to do with the physical exertion of a few minutes ago.

  “Don’t interrupt. He loves photography, children, and charity. Ka-bam. He’s like your soul mate.”

  “Ka-bam?” Alyssa exhaled slowly. “He’s probably lying that he loves those things to make himself look good for the press.” She lifted her long hair and fanned her neck.

  “Stop stereotyping! Not everyone is like that cheesy politician you dated. What was his name, Joe?”

  “Joel.” Okay, maybe she was being stereotypical but that was exactly what her father and his cronies used to do and probably still did. Joel and Hugh were some of the worst. Pretending to be charitable and really only caring about how to take advantage of others.

  “Forget about Joel. The hottie Beckham is flying into Maui today. I’ve got his itinerary and one of his stops is your art show and another one is that children’s center you love to visit. He’ll be there for over a week. All you have to do is flirt a bit, get him to ask you out, and then tell me about it. You’re perfect—the classy and beautiful type that every rich guy would be drawn to, plus no man can resist your ethnic flare. Ooh, if I just had that olive skin!” Maryn paused for a breath but Alyssa didn’t feel the need to counter-compliment. Maryn was absolutely gorgeous with her petite frame, blonde hair, and blue eyes, and one of the many things Alyssa loved about her best friend was no matter what she claimed, she didn’t have a jealous bone in her body.

  “It’s just a generic article so I won’t put names or pictures in it,” Maryn continued. “See, Easy-schmeasy-lemon-cheesy. You don’t even have to go on the date…” Her voice dropped. “Unless you want to.”

  “I won’t want to,” Alyssa said too forcefully. She took a long breath, anxiety from the thought of picking up on some rich guy making her a bit light-headed. Why was the name Beckham familiar? This had disaster written all over it. “This seems too easy for one of your favors. Why would your editor be interested in a generic article about me getting asked on one date?”

  “It’s part of a bigger plan. No worries. Will you do it? Please, please, please?”

  “So I don’t have to go out with him, just get him to ask and give him the wrong number?”

  “For sure. Great idea.”

  Alyssa looked out at the water. She didn’t want to date some wealthy schmoozer. Someday she’d love to find someone who cared for children as much as she did and would be happy taking her on a hike instead of insisting she be his arm candy at some exclusive event. She didn’t need a man trying to buy her affection. Her father’s love language was all dollars, deposits, and dividends—and she used the term “father” in the loosest possible way.

  “Hello? Are you still there?” Maryn called out. “Come on Ally. You love me and I need your help.”

  How could she turn down one of the two people who had always been there for her? Maryn had been her friend their entire lives. Maryn’s mom had been a maid for Alyssa’s dad from the time Maryn was two. Alyssa’s dad had liked the feisty Maryn so he’d always treated her like a second daughter and paid for both of them to go to girl’s camp or whatever else they begged him for. When they hit teenage years it all changed and they both realized her dad was nothing more than a blackmailing predator, intent on using both of them in whatever way would make him money or make him look good to his friends.

  The two girls had moved an hour north of Newport Beach to L.A. breaking away her dad’s influence, and pursuing their dreams with college and then with fledgling careers. A majority of the time, they’d only kept the utilities on because of Alyssa’s photography and Maryn’s nose for finding writing opportunities. If it hadn’t been for Alyssa’s Granny Ellie sneaking money to Maryn every chance she could, they would’ve been forced to the food pantry.

  “Okay.” She heard herself concede and sighed.

  “Yes! Oh, yeah, that’s my girl.” Maryn sang out. Alyssa knew the happy dance was in full swing. “I’ll send you his picture and all the information for how to snare him.”

  “Snare him?”

  “I mean the places he’ll be the next week in case you don’t get a date offer from the gallery meeting.”

  “It’s getting heavy,” Alyssa sighed.

  “No, no heaviness, all good things, light things, think cotton candy, pink cotton candy.” Now Maryn would be flinging her hands in lightening gestures. “Email me everything after you meet him and then you’re off the hook.”

  “You owe me.”

  “I know, but you never ask for repays so I just keep smiling all the way to success.”

  “You do that.” Alyssa hit the end button and shoved the phone back in her pocket. She turned around and retraced her route toward Lahaina and the bed and breakfast where she had taken up semi-permanent residence. Alyssa had moved to Maui to escape her father over a month ago. Even though Alyssa would never consent to live with her parents in their Newport Beach mansion, her dad never quit trying to keep tabs on her. She didn’t know when or if she was going back to California and face that family nightmare.

  Had she really just agreed to stalk a man until he asked her out? She’d done worse things for Maryn, but this one made her stomach pitch as if she was on a whale-watching tour on stormy seas. Every detail was like a whale’s blowhole spraying rank water at her. At least she didn’t really have to go on the date. Maybe he wouldn’t even be interested in her. She’d give it a try for Maryn—smile and act nice. If she got the offer, then she’d give him a wrong phone number, and make herself scarce the week he was here.

  Her shoulders relaxed as the plan formulated and her running became rhythmic and comfortable. Everything would be fine. She could help Maryn out and stay away from rich men who always had an agenda that had nothing to do with what was best for anyone but them. Who cared that she’d never fulfill the pact she’d made with her friends at summer camp? Some things were better left in the past and the Billionaire Brides Pact was buried and dead as far as she was concerned.

  Her phone chimed. She didn’t want to stop, but she couldn’t deny herself a quick glimpse at the picture of the man she was supposed to “snare”. She slowed to a walk and opened the email from Maryn and then stopped in her tracks for the second time that morning. Her hand flew to her mouth as her stomach dropped.

  “Oh, no. Oh, Maryn. What have you got me into this time? This is never going to work.”

  Beck kept his sunglasses on as he exited the plane and made his way toward baggage claim. His assistant, Linli, always laughed at him for flying commercial, but he felt guilty splurging on chartered flights. He picked up his rental car and was on his way to the west side of the island without any incident. Linli was convinced someone had hacked her computer and obtained his schedule, but based on the lack of paparazzi at the airport, it looked like she was being hyper-paranoid. As usual.

  Beck’s shoulders relaxed as the tropical breeze blew through the window. Hopefully he could find the photographer, A. A., and talk him into working with Beck’s charity, Jordan’s Buds. Linli had tried every avenue to contact A.A. but the guy really liked his privacy. No contact information anywhere.

  After Beck found A.A. he could relax and enjoy the island for the week. It had been much too long since he’d traveled and not had a full agenda. Most of his humanitarian trips had him scheduled every hour of daylight—meeting with officials, coaching and encouraging his charity supervisors, digging wells for cle
an water, building houses or schools, and visiting children. Time with the children made it all worth it, but he was exhausted. Lying by a beach sounded pretty nice right now.

  Siri talked him around the south-western side of the island. The ocean view and the sound of waves crashing was exactly the tonic he needed. He drove through Lahaina and instead of stopping at his bed and breakfast to check in, he went to the first public parking lot he could find close to the beach.

  Stepping out of the car, he stretched in the early morning sunlight and simply inhaled the salty tang as he listened to the waves. This was going to be a nice vacation. He studied the deep blue of the ocean, but a noisy family unloading their beach paraphernalia interrupted any relaxation for a minute.

  Beck watched as the mother of two demanded her children stay close while she proceeded to stack chairs, umbrella, and a small cooler on her husband’s waiting arms. She climbed back into the car to retrieve more junk while the man stood patiently waiting to be loaded up. Beck couldn’t help but chuckle. The guy didn’t look like he was enjoying himself, but Beck still felt a twinge of jealousy. He wanted that… someday.

  A movement out of the corner of his eye drew his attention. The tow-headed toddler had somehow escaped her parent’s notice as they unloaded their car. The little girl was through the parking lot, halfway across the sand, and headed straight for the water.

  “Hey,” Beck yelled.

  The dad looked at him in confusion. Beck pointed at the child but quickly realized that he was not only closer, he wasn’t loaded like a pack mule. Beck took off at a sprint toward the water. The little girl walked unsteadily through the sand as the water receded. A large wave surged up the beach headed straight for the child, sweeping her feet out from under her. She cried out in surprise as she fell on her rear. Twenty more yards. Beck increased his speed but the sand slowed his steps. The little girl sat crying in the sand, unaware of the danger as the water had receded and she didn’t see the huge wave rolling toward her. The undercurrent of this wave could take her and nobody would find her again.