Page 31 of Billionaire Lumberjack's Bride

I shake my head and rub at my temples, where a headache is starting to form. Too much has changed too fast—and it’s only going to spiral further out of control as we approach the date of the board meeting. “What a clusterfuck.”

“Just what every girl wants to hear on her wedding day.”

Fuck.

I flinch and reluctantly open my eyes, though the last thing I want to see is the hurt. It’s been so long since I had to think about anyone but myself that it never crossed my mind that what I said might actuallyhurther.

It’s there in her evergreen eyes—this may be a business arrangement, but it’s still the only wedding day she’s likely to ever get if we succeed and I decide I want to keep control of Bolton Steel in the end.

And I just said it was a clusterfuck.

Real fucking smooth, Silas.

I release a heavy sigh, a thousand different things I probablyshouldsay refusing to come out while looking at this beautiful woman who has been brought into a quagmire. “Look, I’m sorry, Lyla, but…”

She holds up a hand to stop me, her body tense, ready for a fight. “No, it’s okay. Don’t apologize. This is a contractual agreement, right?”

I give a sharp nod. “Right.”

The word feels like acid coming from my lips after having them pressed to hers today, but it’s the painful truth we’re both going to have to live with.

We signed a deal—abusinessarrangement. It can never be more than that, no matter how long we may be stuck together. We stick to the requirements in the contract. That should be easy enough.

Keep reminding yourself of that.

ChapterFive

LYLA

The higher we climb up the bumpy mountain road leading to my new home, the heavier the reality of my situation settles on me. Every muscle in my body tenses. Each little dip we take over uneven gravel sends my ramrod straight spine slamming against the seat of Silas’ truck hard enough to make my teeth clank together. My fingers tighten around the handle on the door until my knuckles whiten and ache.

A vise starts to tighten around my chest, squeezing the air from my lungs each mile we ascend—and it isn’t going to get any better.

Coming down the mountain earlier this morning to getmarriedin dead silence was awkward and uncomfortable—especially after a night of Silas avoiding me and offering nothing more than a grunt if I asked a simple question.

But this…this is something else altogether.

A new kind of torture I didn’t know existed.

One of my own making.

My eyes drift to the massive diamond on my finger—the single thing I’ve seen since I got to this Godforsaken place that in any way suggests the man I’m now married to is worth billions—aside from those numbers in the contract I’ve been promised for many years of wedded “bliss.” But apparently, coming from all that money and high-class stock doesn’t mean he has any manners.

How can he ride with me for an entire hour after just getting married and not say a single fucking word?

He seems completely content to drive with his eyes locked on the road, Whiskey between us, the dog alternating between sitting up to watch our progress and resting his head on my lap and staring up at me with soft, sad eyes.

Like his owner, his bark seems worse than his bite, and if dogs weren’t such good judges of character, I might be even more worried about what will happen when we get back to that cabin.

He’s your husband, Lyla. You’re going to have to do your wifely duties.

The man didn’t kiss me like someone who is going to let that “TBD”clause go…

I really signed those damn papers without discussingthatpart of our relationship first. There’s desperation, and then there’sthatlevel of desperation.

My stomach flips hard enough for me to slap my hand over my mouth to keep myself from losing its contents—the bitter black coffee Silas made this morning as the only breakfast offered on our big day.

I squeeze my eyes closed, drop my hand, and suck in a little sharp breath, trying to regain control of the panic threatening to send me spiraling.

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