Billionaire's Wife On Paper / Their Royal Wedding Bargain. Michelle Conder

frown brought his ink-black eyebrows together. ‘Don’t you do background checks on them first?’

      ‘Some of the young people I employ wouldn’t pass a background check,’ Layla said. ‘They need someone to give them a break for once. To not always be expecting them to slip up or fail. I believe in showing trust first and teaching them some skills, hoping it triggers the desire in them to make better choices.’ The sort of choices she wished her parents had made.

      ‘Admirable of you, but you’re setting yourself up for guaranteed disappointment.’ His tone matched his cynical expression.

      Layla hoisted her chin a fraction. ‘My vision for my business is not just about making a big profit. It’s about making a difference in people’s lives. Lives that others have judged and found wanting. But I know how powerful it can be when someone believes in you. Someone who sees something in you that no one else does. It’s…it’s transformative.’

      His eyes moved over her face like a searchlight for a long moment and she had to fight not to shift her gaze.

      ‘Is that because of what happened in your childhood?’ His tone had lost its cynical edge. ‘My grandparents giving permission for you to come and live here with your great-aunt?’

      ‘It’s getting late.’ Layla pushed back her chair and rose from the table and began to gather the plates. Next he’d be asking her to spill all about her miserable childhood and that she was determined not to do. Thankfully, privacy laws had prevented the McLaughlins from hearing too many of the gory details about her early years—details Layla dearly wished she could forget. ‘I think I can hear Flossie asking to be let out.’

      Logan placed a hand over her forearm as she reached for his plate. ‘I don’t want you to wait on me, Layla. I want you to talk to me. There’s a lot we don’t know about each other, and we need to know it if we’re going to make our relationship appear genuine.’

      She glanced at his hand on her arm and gave him a pointed look. ‘Do you mind?’

      He released her hand, his tone and expression softening. ‘I don’t know all the details but I know your background was difficult. It must have been, otherwise you wouldn’t have ended up living here. I think it’s great how you’ve taken charge and started your own business. But don’t be too proud to ask for help if you need it.’ He rose to his feet and pushed in his chair, adding, ‘There’s one other thing I think I should tell you. We’ll have to get married abroad and soon. According to Scottish law, there’s a twenty-eight-day waiting period before we can get a marriage licence, and I don’t want to lose any more valuable time.’

      ‘Married abroad?’ Layla opened and closed her mouth. ‘Please tell me you’re not thinking Vegas and an Elvis impersonator?’

      He gave a crooked smile that made something in her chest ping like a latch springing open. ‘No. But if you’re not keen on an impersonal register office, how about a small and simple ceremony on a beach in Hawaii?’

      Hawaii. The land of bikinis and beaches and beautiful bodies.

      Oh, joy.

       CHAPTER FOUR

      A COUPLE OF days after the legal work was completed in Edinburgh, Layla flew business class with Logan to the island of Maui in Hawaii. The luxury villa he’d organised for their short stay was situated at Kapalua Bay beach, a gorgeous crescent of blindingly white sand and turquoise water and palm trees. Layla felt as if she was living in a dream sequence—swept away to an exotic location by a handsome billionaire who was intent on marrying her as quickly as he could.

      But not for the romantic reasons her girlhood dreams had envisaged.

      The speed and efficiency with which Logan set about achieving a goal was nothing less than breathtaking. Layla barely had time to get her head around the idea of a beach wedding, let alone buy the appropriate attire for it, when she found herself standing on the balcony of the beautiful villa overlooking the ocean with just minutes to spare before the ceremony.

       Her wedding day.

      It was strange to think that this time last week she had been a single woman with a simple goal of keeping her business on track. Now she was about to be married to a man she had known for most of her life who didn’t love her the way a husband should love his bride.

      But Logan did love his family’s home and so did she, so it would have to be a good enough reason to marry. The only reason to marry, because the last thing she needed was to get silly ideas in her head about their relationship lasting beyond the year, as set down in the document his lawyer had drawn up.

      One year and one year only.

      The money Logan had transferred to her account on signing the document would guarantee Layla’s business success. It was exactly the windfall she needed to expand her business from a scribbled sticky-note vision into a profit-making reality.

      Logan came out to the balcony where she was standing looking at the view. She turned to face him with an attempt at a smile. Their wedding ceremony was minutes away but if he was uncomfortable or uneasy about what they were about to do, he wasn’t showing it on his face. They might as well have been heading down the beach for an afternoon stroll.

      He pushed back his shirt sleeve to glance at the silver watch on his strong tanned wrist. ‘The celebrant will be here in ten minutes.’

      ‘Okay…’ Layla took a deep breath and smoothed her hand down over her churning stomach. ‘Isn’t it meant to be bad luck for you to see me in my dress before the ceremony?’

      His eyes ran over the Bohemian-style white dress she had bought in a boutique in Edinburgh. It was enough like a wedding dress for her to feel like a bride, even if she wasn’t a real one, and long enough to cover the scars on her leg. And—even more important—she could wear flat sandals or bare feet rather than struggle with heels.

      ‘I can safely say I’ve already had more than my fair share of bad luck. You too, I imagine.’ His tone was wry. ‘You look beautiful, by the way.’ His gaze held hers in a lock that did strange things to her insides. Tingling things, thrilling things. Forbidden things.

      Layla was the first to look away, worried he would see things she didn’t want him to see. Things she didn’t even want to admit to herself. ‘I don’t have a bouquet or anything. I hope that’s not bad luck too.’

      He walked over to a box that was sitting on the coffee table in the large open-plan room off the balcony. She hadn’t noticed it earlier as she’d been preoccupied with getting ready so soon after their arrival. Or it had been delivered while she was in the shower. He took the lid off and the sweet tropical scent of frangipanis filled the air. He took out a simple but beautiful bouquet and handed it to her.

      ‘I hope this will do?’

      ‘It’s perfect.’ Layla took the bouquet from him and bent her face to the creamy blooms with their egg-yolk-yellow hearts, the glorious fragrance drugging her senses. Not to mention Logan’s intoxicating closeness doing exactly the same thing. He was dressed in an open-necked white shirt and mid-blue jacket and trousers that brought out the intense blue in his eyes and the deep olive tan of his skin. She could smell his aftershave—could even pick up the clean fruity smell of his shampoo from his recent shower. His jaw was freshly shaven and her fingers itched to touch his face to trace where the razor had glided over his tanned skin. She was aware of every inch of his body standing within touching distance of hers. Aware of every breath he took, every flare of his nostrils, every rustle of his clothes when he moved.

      Within a few minutes they would be husband and wife.

       On paper.

      She had to keep reminding herself of that pesky little detail.

      Logan held out his hand, his expression inscrutable. ‘Ready