Page 11 of The Billionaire's Wife

Lilly pats the empty space beside her on the couch, and I take a seat, grateful that they are at least being welcoming, if not a little hesitant.

“Have you ever been to the Caribbean?” she asks.

Alec takes a seat across from me on the other couch next to Asher and Olivia.

I shake my head. “I haven’t traveled much,” I admit.

Lilly and I continue with our small talk for a bit, Aiden and Olivia chiming in with anecdotes or questions from time to time. I notice Asher and Alec engrossed in a hushed conversation—probably either about the big merger or my and Alec’s predicament. Or both.

After a few moments, I feel the engines shutter to life, and soon we’re taxiing down the runway. I turn on the couch to look out the window as the plane takes off, reveling in the view of Seattle from the sky. And the fact that I’m looking out the window from a couch. I could pinch myself. In fact, I’m still not a hundred percent convinced this whole thing isn’t a dream. And it’s only about to get dreamier. I mean, we’re heading to a yacht off the coast of Florida and will be sailing the Caribbean. It doesn’t get much dreamier than that.

A soft touch to my arm grabs my attention, and I turn around. Alec is standing above me. “Want to go over our story a bit more?” he suggestions, gesturing to the back of the plane.

The others are engaged in conversation, so we quietly brush past them to the empty seats at the back of the plane. We’re far enough away now that neither of our conversations will be heard by the others.

“You feeling okay about everything?” Alec asks as we sit side by side.

I shrug. “Pretty much. Your family is nice.”

At this, I think I see a hint of the first genuine smile I’ve ever seen from him. “Yeah. They’re pretty great.” He clears his throat. “Alright. Backstory—what we discussed. Go.” He gestures to me.

Nerves dance through my stomach, and I’m suddenly feeling the pressure. He was right to suggest we go over it all again. We have to have this right. We can’t mess this up. I nod. “Okay. We met through mutual friends only a year ago. It was a whirlwind romance, love at first sight. We were married barely six months into knowing each other. The relationship is still young, which would explain any potential gaps in our knowledge of each other.”

Alec nods.

“We had a small wedding with just family and friends back in July. We’re still in the honeymoon phase and just enjoying each other’s company, so any questions about future plans, kids, anything, will be met with ‘who knows?’”

Alec chuckles. “And don’t forget about our dog, Betty, who Marcus saw you walking the other day.”

I feign offense. “I could never forget about Betty.”

He snorts. We sit in a comfortable silence for a few heartbeats, before Alec poses another question. “We should also probably talk about boundaries. And the logistics of those boundaries.”

I nod slowly. He’s right. I hadn’t actually thought much about it, other than his insistence upon our arrangement being “appropriate” when he’d first begged me to agree.

“We can start with sleeping arrangements,” Alec says. “I obviously couldn’t request separate rooms for us, but I’ve been told that each suite has a couch. I’ll be happy to sleep there while you take the bed, and I’ll make a point to give you as much privacy as possible.”

I nod. I’d assumed we’d be sharing a room once the entirety of the trip had been presented to me. It’s a relief to hear that Alec has already anticipated sleeping on the couch. I was ready to strongarm him into it if needed. Which I am more than certain I’d be capable of doing.

“As for PDA,” he continues. “We do have to at least appear comfortable with each other.”

“And, according to our backstory, we’re still in a bit of a honeymoon phase,” I add.

Alec nods slowly, surveying me. Finally, he asks, “What, exactly, are you comfortable with?”

I pause for a moment. I hadn’t thought much of it until now, which I realize might have been naïve. And now, on the spot, I’m not sure what to say. “Well …” I begin slowly. “I suppose anything I’m totally uncomfortable with would be things we’d never do in public anyway.”

Alec swallows, and is it just my imagination, or do his cheeks flush with slightly more color?

“So I suppose holding hands, sitting near each other, light physical contact—that’s all okay with me,” I elaborate.

“And kissing?”

Kissing. Hmm. How do I feel about kissing Alec King? It’s not like he’s unattractive. As a matter of fact, he’s not bad looking at all. He’s got this rugged quality, a confidence that’s borderline sexy. And I’ve always been somewhat into older men. But something about kissing Alec King feels dangerous. Like a destination I could never return from.

“Let’s say that kissing isn’t completely off the table,” I finally answer. “But we’ll only do it if absolutely necessary.”

Alec seems to accept this. “Agreed.”

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