Page 102 of The Billionaire's Demand

It felt like exactly what he should be doing, and she tasted so sweet, like vanilla and strawberries, so he wanted more and more of her. Her dress was a simple silk with a white faux fur coat. She was a sensory explosion, all soft and textural beneath his touch.

He suddenly wanted to be anywhere but here, in a room in a courthouse, being married by some strange officiant. As if on cue, the man cleared his throat, perhaps more than once, but it took a moment for Raul to hear, to recollect himself and pull away from Libby, to stare down at her with an expression more like the impassive mask he should have been wearing.

‘Thank you,’ he said, not sure if he was speaking to Libby or the celebrant, but extending a hand in the celebrant’s direction belatedly.

‘Congratulations.’ The man grinned, gesturing to the door. ‘If you’ll head out there, Rowena will see to the paperwork.’

In his peripheral vision, Raul saw Libby’s tight nod of her head, and a single glance in her direction showed the dazed and confused look on her face. Something tightened inside of him. He had to get control of this. He had to manage things better.

As they signed the certificate of marriage, the photographer Raul’s assistant had organised took pictures and Raul made a point of smiling, remembering the whole purpose of this was to have something to show their child when they were older. Perhaps they’d even print one of the pictures and hang it on a wall. Raul didn’t have any photographs of himself or his birth parents, or anyone of significance in his life. There’d never really been anyone, and that was fine by Raul, but for their child they were creating a different reality, a myth, and pictures would be a part of that.

In front of the building, they posed for a few more snaps, but when the photographer suggested a kiss Raul responded gruffly, ‘That’s enough.’ He felt Libby stiffen at his side and could have kicked himself. ‘It’s cold. Time to get inside,’ he said, turning to Libby and offering another smile—though it felt stretched on his face.

She nodded, not meeting his eyes.

Back in the limousine, he noticed they sat as far from one another as possible. Good. Keeping their distance was a wise move.

‘You mentioned something about a lunch now?’ she asked quietly, fidgeting with her hands in her lap.

Raul closed his eyes as he remembered that particular detail. ‘My assistant’s idea.’

He missed the hurt on Libby’s face, but when she spoke her voice trembled a little. ‘We don’t have to go. There’s not really anything to celebrate here, is there?’

Raul cursed inwardly. ‘We just got married,’ he said. ‘It’s the least we can do to mark the occasion.’

‘I really can’t see that’s necessary,’ she muttered, the glumness in her voice unmistakable, and she continued to stare at her wedding ring.

Raul reached over, putting a hand on hers without thinking, then wishing he hadn’t when he felt the now predictable surge of awareness travel the length of his arm. Touching her was his weakness. The lightest brush of his flesh to hers and he forgot everything he’d promised himself about this marriage, the necessary boundaries and restrictions, and just wanted to exist without constraint.

‘We are having a child, and raising them as a family. We both know why that matters to us.’

‘Yes,’ she whispered, lifting her head but only so she could tilt it away from him, looking out of the window.

‘So let’s celebrate our commitment to the baby,’ he said. ‘This is the first day of our new family,’ he said, and Libby turned to face him then, eyes wide and so beautiful he couldn’t look away.

‘Family,’ she murmured, as if struck by that idea. Just as he was when he heard her say the word. Struck, and trapped. Terrified. He removed his hand, tried not to look as though the heavens were falling down around him.

‘Besides, I’m hungry.’

Libby nodded, then blinked and turned away. Raul resisted the urge to ask her to turn back, to look at him again, but her eyes were quickly becoming an addiction of his. Yet another thing to conquer.

Not only was the restaurant beautiful and exclusive, but Raul’s assistant had outdone herself, having a small private alcove reserved for the occasion, decked out in dozens more of the stunning white roses that had formed Libby’s bouquet. She brushed the petals of one as she sat down, the softness reminding her of the silk of her dress.

‘You look beautiful,’ Raul said, as if reading her mind, like he was also thinking of the silk she wore.

Heat suffused Libby’s cheeks. ‘It’s just a thrift shop find,’ she said. ‘A bit of fun, really. The dress is from the twenties.’

‘It suits you.’

‘I guess I’m an old-fashioned kind of girl,’ she quipped, eyes dropping to her wedding ring, a frown tugging at her lips before she could control it.

A waitress appeared with a bottle of champagne, popped the top. ‘It’s non-alcoholic,’ she said with a bright smile, ‘per the request we were emailed.’

They were silent as the drinks were poured, and then, left to their own devices, that silence took on a crackling, electric quality. Libby reached for her drink, wrapped her fingers around the stem but didn’t lift it.

‘A toast,’ Raul said quietly. Libby waited, heart in her throat. ‘To our baby’s future,’ he murmured, and it was so perfectly appropriate because it was a heartfelt sentiment, perhaps the only heartfelt utterance he could have delivered in that moment, and it meant the world to both of them. Libby lifted her glass and clinked it to his.

‘To our baby,’ she murmured, sipping the drink, finding it every bit as delicious as champagne. She closed her eyes, the moment wrapping around her. ‘I can’t believe we’re married,’ she said after a beat.

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