Page 225 of The Billionaires

I stare at my finger, stupefied.

I’m engaged.

Me.

To a billionaire.

Who’s going to believe this? It’s as plausible as a scullery maid getting engaged to a peer of the realm.

Miss Miller is suffering from palpitations.

“What do I tell people?” I ask, eyes still on the ring—which looks like something out of a fairytale.

“Great question,” Adrian says. “We need to agree on our backstory and then stick to it.”

I finally look up. “A story?”

He smirks. “As much as people think that I’m a catch, they might be suspicious if we tell them you agreed to marry me on the same day that we met.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” I say, my cheeks burning. “But the reverse is certainly not so plausible.”

At best, a member of the ton makes someone like a maid his mistress, not his wife.

Adrian frowns. “You don’t give yourself enough credit.”

My chest feels light and fluttery. “Is this how rakes like you usually operate? No wonder it works.”

“Did you just call me a tool?” he asks with a chuckle. “And a gardening tool at that?”

I scoff. “A rake is a term from historical novels. It’s somewhat similar to a manwhore but with more style.”

“Ah. In that case, my days as a rake are now over. Same goes for being a pruner, a trowel, a lopper, and a cultivator.” In contrast to his words, he smiles rakishly and glides his hand through his long, dark hair, also rakishly. “Actually, I already knew what a rake is,” he adds. “And you have to admit, a romance novel rake is usually a bit of a tool.”

Yeah. Right. Of course he knew. “Back to the backstory.” I grab my chopsticks and pick out a morsel from the giant sushi board, feeling proud that my hands aren’t trembling… much.

“Right.” He also picks up a sushi piece. “We met the way we met today—to make it easier to remember—but six months ago. Because of stupid tabloids, you wanted to date me in secret until you felt that I was truly reformed and things between us were serious. We’re going to let people know about us now, though, since we’ve gotten engaged and you’re about to move in with?—”

“I what?” My chopsticks and sushi drop on my plate with a clank.

“Well, yeah,” he says. “If we’re getting married soon, it only makes sense to try to live together. I’m sorry, I’m assuming we’re going to live at my place but?—”

“It’s not the location that’s shocking,” I say. “It’s the fact that we’re going to live under the same roof. That’s pretty crazy.”

He cocks his head. “You thought we’d be married but live apart?”

I blow out a breath. “I guess I didn’t think that far ahead.”

He looks at me worriedly. “Your compensation is still negotiable.”

I grit my teeth. “Can you stop it with that? I’m not flaking on you, I’m just processing.”

“I know it’s a lot,” he says. “But for what it’s worth, my place is very nice, and the building has great amenities.”

“A billionaire’s lavish apartment is nice? What a shocker.” I also can’t believe that I refused to go over to his place earlier today, and now I’m moving there, sight unseen.

“You can come check it out today,” he says, as if reading my mind. “Make sure that will not be a showstopper.”

I shake my head, but it doesn’t make it feel any clearer. “You really think people will believe we’re a couple?”

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