The Billionaire's Proxy Bride

ght her life wa

t at NYU, she lived in a sun-drenche

was thirty, a real estate ty

uccessful, and nin

r, had introduced them. Mar

alled he

dition art book she'd mentio

vate chef prepared special l

walls were c

" he'd say, a sweep of his han

t, docked in the Hamptons,

other, or a beloved childhood

ed, secure in hi

ched for an art monog

n't on the m

st an ornate carving on h

A hidden compart

a scrapbook. Leather-b

y pulled

open

oman with hair like hers, a

wasn'

t, the same one Marcus own

as unsettling, a

t ticket fell

us's familiar script: "For Izzy,

printed on a small newspaper

usi

. "Muse." The ar

her. It was

ive month

her like a physica

eplacement.

ir baby... conc

on was a cold

eathe in the pe

ecision, swi

ighboring state, one know

old n

blur of hushed voice

ed if she wante

e ashes. A small

a high-powered attorney he

s were drafte

as she dialed M

g. And

ff voice answe

phone, w

st friend, an investment

round noise of a par

ck in town! Thorne's already ditching the pregnant kid-bride. Some guys have

ne wen

her phone. Pre

ords

Humiliation burned

ng minutes l

of concern. "Muse, what's

flat. "Marcus, I

oft, feminine coo

, my champagne f

ice. Unmi

have to go. We

hun

esolve

r bedroom, the one f

vorce papers on his sid

a small, vel

, the

returne

ant box from her favorit

treat," he said, his

ding by the bed

look at t

to the papers and t

he asked, his s

him the div

zzed on the nightstand. Izzy'

then back at the p

n't re

the nightstand, signed h

, his voice tight. "My lawyers wil

d his phone, and answered it as he rushed

s wrong? I'm

d the do

bedroom, the unsigned macaro

nce was

muse, a placehold

he dream h