Page 5 of The Billionaire's Wife

She shakes her head. “Look, I don’t know what weird game you’re playing, or why you need someone to pretend to be your wife, but you can find someone else to do it.” She grabs her purse off the counter and stalks past me toward the door.

I spin after her. “But that’s the problem—it has to be you. I already told Marcus Caddelle you’re my wife.”

“I don’t know who that is, and I don’t care.”

“He owns the business my company is trying to merge with,” I say, hoping the severity of the situation will sink in for her.

She shrugs. “And who’s problem is that?” she snaps, opening my front door. I have half a mind to slam it shut and demand that she stay and talk with me. But I can’t risk actually scaring her off. I need her to agree to this.

“Oh, it’s definitely my problem, I admit that,” I say, rushing after her into the hall. “But I’d pay you. I just need to you pose as my wife. It can’t be that hard.”

She turns to face me, pursing her lips. “I don’t know, Mr. King. You barely trust me to walk your dog—worried I spent too much time sitting around in parks.”

I can feel myself flushing at her recall of my earlier comment. Fuck.

The elevator arrives, and she steps inside. “I doubt I could handle the complexity of this new offer,” she says with an eye roll. And with that, the elevator doors close.

Chapter 4

Ella

The door to my apartment closes behind me, and I stand in the dark entryway for a moment, stunned. Because what the actual hell?

The soft padding of paws against the hardwood has me turning to see Howard, my golden retriever, loping up to me. He wags his tail, nuzzling against my thigh.

“Hey there, Howie,” I say, reaching down to pat him on the head.

I walk into my living room—or should I say the entirety of my apartment? I do have a separate bedroom and bathroom, but my living room and kitchen are smushed into an area barely big enough for a couch and a TV.

I toss my purse on the couch and sit down beside it.

Did Alec King really just propose what I think he did? I blink a few times, rubbing my eyes. I’d laugh out loud at the absurdity if I wasn’t pretty sure that I’d just lost one of my highest paying dog walking gigs. He’s definitely not going to want me around anymore. I bite my lip, wondering if I should have held in my anger back there.

But honestly, he’d deserved it. He’s been nothing but an asshole to me the entire time I’ve worked for him. I’ve known him for a year, and he’s never once even smiled at me. Asked how my day was going, said a kind word at all. The only time he goes out of his way to talk to me is to criticize something—like this morning when he’d insinuated that I didn’t walk Betty enough. Like, what the hell, man?

And then, barely an hour later, he turns around and asks the most ridiculous favor in the entire universe? No. That’s not how this works. Alec King is a man who’s used to bossing people around and getting whatever he wants, I’m sure. But I want nothing to do with it. Especially pretending to be his wife? God, what an awful gig that would be.

I check the time on my phone. Normally I have just one other dog walking gig today—an older lady who just can’t quite exercise her Labrador retriever as much as he needs. But her son is visiting from out of town today, so she doesn’t need the help.

Which means the rest of my day is wide open.

I grab my laptop, pulling up my internet browser. There’s already some searches still up. The best veterinary schools in the Seattle area. I’m pretty sure I’ve narrowed it down and know where I want to go. The only issue now is saving the money and applying for loans. It’s overwhelming to think about, but I really need to get on it.

It’s been over half a year since I graduated. I’d planned on taking a gap year to save money, but if I want to start school next fall, I should probably start applying now.

A sudden knock on my door pulls me from my thoughts. I turn to stare at it, unsure it was even an actual knock. Maybe one of the neighbors simply dropped something out in the hallway. But a few seconds later, the knock comes again, louder and more persistent this time.

I frown, standing. Who would be knocking at my door? My family and friends rarely come over unannounced. I check my phone to see if I have any unnoticed texts. Nope.

I walk up to the door and hesitantly glance through the peephole.

No way.

I yank the door open to see none other than Alec King standing in the doorway of my shitty apartment complex. He looks as out of place as one could possibly be. That overly pressed suit, those shiny dress shoes, and … a bouquet of flowers?

He levels me with a cool stare. “Can we talk?”

I glance between him and the flowers in confusion. “I … how did you know I live here?”

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