Page 278 of The Billionaires

And the?—

Wait a second. Why hasn’t Adrian responded?

By Jove! A proper gentleman would go deaf—or at least pretend to—rather than acknowledge that Miss Miller would make such an unseemly query.

Feeling like my heart is falling through my stomach, I raise my eyes to meet Adrian’s gaze.

Nope. He has heard me and understood. He’s just thinking of a reply.

Why are we not in Florida? A sinkhole in the ground would be very welcome right about now.

Just as I debate cooling my cheeks with the cucumber slices from one of the sandwiches—or maybe stuffing the whole thing down my throat so I choke and die—Adrian finally opens his mouth.

“I’m very honored,” he says huskily. “Having said that… I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

His words are like a round kick into the gut.

I somehow find myself on my feet.

“Wait,” Adrian says.

I do not. Instead, I’m running. I don’t know where, and I don’t know why.

As I approach the nearby lake, a hand grabs my shoulder.

I twist around. “Don’t touch me!”

“Sorry,” Adrian says, looking with great concern at something behind me. “Please. Don’t do anything rash.”

My hammering heart nearly stops as I follow his gaze… to a boat rental.

Huh? “You think I plan to go into the lake? Why? Because you think so highly of yourself?”

He takes a step back. “Highly of myself? What do you mean?”

I roll my eyes. “You think you’re so special that a rejection from you would make me want to drown myself in the nearest body of water? Should I avoid roofs too?”

He sighs deeply. “I merely thought… The lake is a place I can’t follow you.”

Ah. Right. He’s got issues with water. “I wasn’t even thinking of going near it.”

“Good,” he says.

Does the relief on his face mean he cares about what happens to me?

Nah. He’s just glad he won’t have to seek another fake wife candidate after I drown.

“I want to be alone,” I say. “I shouldn’t need to go to the lake to accomplish that.”

“Look, I said I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t set out to hurt your feelings. I just don’t want to jeopardize our arrangement. Nor do I feel worthy of doing what you asked.”

“You’ve got that last one right,” I say. “You’re not worthy.”

There. I turn around and flee again, and this time, he doesn’t follow.

He calls me instead, which I let go to voicemail.

He texts something too, but I don’t read it.

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