Page 20 of Billionaire Lumberjack's Bride

I was prepared to agree to marry this old man, but now, butterflies dance in my stomach at the thought of it being Silas. And they aren’t the ones I felt thinking I would spend the indefinite future with Ronald.

These are different, feeding off the intensity of the man standing next to me. They loop and flutter rapidly, spinning and rolling inside me, unnerving me more than anything has in a very long time.

Apparently, it does matter who I’m getting hitched to.

But I don’t have any time to consider what that means or the complications it could bring. It’s irrelevant if I’m afraid of Silas or if the way my body reacts to his proximity is something else. I don’t have the luxury of being choosy with my betrothed.

“I still want to go through with it.”

Instead of relaxing, Silas visibly tenses at my statement, his scowl peeking out from under his beard. He shifts in his boots, his unease matching mine, and looks away, out the front window toward the woods opposite the cabin.

Ronald claps his hands. “Good. You two will be married tomorrow in a civil ceremony. You understand that?”

I gulp, swallowing past the lump in my throat. “Tomorrow?”

“Time is of the essence.”

It is for me, too.

Buttomorrow…

I open my mouth to ask what all of this is about, but I quickly snap it closed because it’s none of my business. They aren’t grilling me about why I’m in a rush to marry a stranger for money, so I shouldn’t be questioning why a billionaire needs a fake wife, either.

“Okay…” I let myself trail off, unsure what to say to any of this. “I guess.”

Silas’ back stiffens, and he averts his gaze, staring back at the door he just came through. “I want to make sure you understand that this is a business arrangement. You need money, and I need a wife on paper.” He returns his steely, cold eyes to mine. “That’s all it will ever be.” He issues a long sigh, running a hand through his thick hair. “Before you sign, there’s one more thing…”

Oh, God.

Please don’t tell me there’s another agreement, something else I have to do…

Silas walks back to the door he originally came through and opens it wide. A massive German shepherd darts out toward the table, barking and snarling at Ronald, stopping immediately in front of the man but clearly still a threat despite not ripping him apart.

My future husband follows the dog over to us, a smirk on his lips as he watches the dog terrorize the man who’s supposedly helping him.

What kind of sadistic asshole is he?

Silas stops his approach and snaps his fingers. “Whiskey, off.”

The dog immediately sits and stops barking. His soft brown eyes move to me, but none of the aggression he showed toward Ronald gets directed my way. He merely assesses me the way animals do, like they can see straight through you, to the depths of your soul.

“This is my dog, Whiskey. He’s the best judge of character I know.”

He whistles sharply, and the dog returns to sit at his side, still eyeing me. Silas drops to one knee next to him and wraps his arm around Whiskey’s neck, whispering something to him.

The dog approaches me cautiously.

I immediately tense, ready for the welcome Ronald received, but instead of charging at me with full-force aggression, Whiskey trots forward, tail wagging, and sits at my feet, then rests his big head on my lap.

The humor in Silas’ face fades as he watches the dog nuzzle against me. “Holy shit.”

“What?” I run my hand through the dog’s fur. “What’s wrong?”

His scowl returns as he pushes to his feet. “Whiskey hates everyone. I’m the only one who can get close to him.”

I grin as I rub my finger along his muzzle to the tip of his cold, wet nose. “He’s a good boy.”

“Or atraitor.”

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