Page 2 of The Greek Billionaire's Email Bride

"Two months," Edith mused, settling into a chair across from Hope. "It seems awfully fast to be getting married."

"Not that fast," Hope reminded her. "We met in high school. Remember?"

"But you also said you two had lost touch. This is just so...unlike you. You've always been so cautious."

Hope touched the ring that Heart's Match had delivered to her doorstep just a day ago. "When you know, you know," she said with forced brightness. "Sometimes it takes forty years to find the right person."

Edith studied her with knowing eyes. "And you know?"

For a moment, Hope considered confessing everything. But the worry it would cause, the disappointment...

"Yes, Mom. I know."

Her phone vibrated, and Hope was thankful for having an excuse to look away and keep Edith from seeing the truth in her eyes.

Proxy marriage conract signed. Flight ETA noon. Will bring car service. No need to pick me up. - CG

The text from her husband was exactly what she would expect from someone like Colin. Distant. Cool. Blunt. He had already been all of those things in high school, but such behavior was even likelier, considering their situation.

The billionaire had asked for a trophy wife. And Heart's Match gave him Hope: a plain forty-year-old virgin who'd spent nearly two decades making spreadsheets about toilets.

****

The regional airport in her hometown was little more than a glorified airstrip with a handful of private hangars. Hope waited on the single bench outside the small terminal, nervously smoothing her simple blue dress—the nicest one she owned.

A sleek private jet taxied to a stop on the tarmac, its gleaming exterior almost blinding in the Wyoming sun. Hope's stomach tightened. Of course Colin Soukoulis had his own plane. What else had she expected?

The jet's door opened, and a man emerged at the top of the stairs. Even from a distance, he took her breath away.

Tall, broad-shouldered, with black hair touched with premature silver at the temples. His face could have been carved from granite—all sharp angles and brooding intensity. He wore no tie with his tailored suit, the top buttons of his shirt casually undone, but the effect was no less intimidating.

This was a man who commanded rooms simply by entering them.

Hope stood, smoothing her dress one last time as Colin Soukoulis crossed the tarmac toward her. His gaze swept over her, dark and assessing.

"Ms. Tiangco," he said, his voice deeper than she'd imagined from their brief phone conversation.

She cleared her throat. "It's actually Mrs. Soukoulis now?"

The reminder visibly disconcerted him, and Hope struggled not to let this affect her. "Just call me Hope, please."

It was a struggle to keep her face expressionless as he tok her hand. His palm was warm against hers, his grip firm but not overpowering.

"Hope," he repeated, and the sound of her name in his voice made her cheeks warm.

Up close, he was even more devastating than she remembered. A strong jaw with just the right amount of stubble. Eyes like molten chocolate, intense and penetrating. They were nearly the same height, she realized—her five-nine to his six-four—their eyes almost level when she wore heels.

"You're taller than your photos suggested," he remarked, still studying her.

She had always been this tall. But she supposed he had never noticed since she had never been the type to stand out in their old high school, even with her height.

The silence between them stretched uncomfortably, and Hope shifted on her feet. "Um..."Think, Hope! What else was there to say?She cleared her throat again. "Your, um, plane is impressive."

"It serves its purpose."

Spoken like a true billionaire,Hope thought, but not unkindly. It was simply what it was.

Colin glanced past her to the parking lot. "Your car?"

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