Page 22 of Billionaire's Frenemy

“Don’t do that,” she said, pulling her arm free.

“Do what?”

“Don’t be cute right now.”

“I don’t know any other way to be.” I reached for her again, and she didn’t fight me. I pulled her into my arms and sagged in relief when she hugged me back. “Do you want to go home?”

“No.” She sniffed, and I realized she was shaking.

Lifting her chin, I looked down at her tearstained cheeks, and my heart broke. I didn’t know what to do for her. I didn’t know how to fix this. I may have been wasted when I’d suggested thistrip, but it really was supposed to prove we could be together. Now, it felt as if it were all falling apart on me.

“Are you hungry?” I asked tentatively.

“I’m always hungry,” she moaned, her tears falling faster. “And I’m tired. And I’m horny. And I know it’s the stupid hormones, but don’t say shit like that to me, okay?”

“Okay,” I agreed, pressing her head back to my chest while rubbing circles over her back. “I’m sorry I pointed out the obvious.”

I shouldn’t have been surprised when she sack-tapped me, but I still was. It wasn’t a hard hit, but it was direct, and I sank to the floor, clutching my balls and groaning in pain.

“You’re an asshole,” she hissed.

“You’re a demon,” I responded, blinking back my own tears. Damn it. Was she gonna be like this for another five months? I wasn’t sure I’d survive it.

“I didn’t hit you that hard,” she complained, rolling her eyes.

“Well, I’d punch you in the boob to reciprocate,” I told her, climbing back to my feet. “But we’re not in middle school anymore, and I don’t hit women.”

“Can we eat?”

“Well, I’m trying not to vomit,” I admitted. “But I can get you third breakfast. Do you want to go downstairs?”

“Yes, please.” She walked toward the bedroom. “I’m going to change real quick.” She looked back and me and appraised me from head-to-toe. “Is that what you’re wearing?”

“Apparently not,” I said. “You change first. I’ll come in when you’re done.”

She closed the door behind her, and I sank onto the couch, clutching my forehead in one hand and my crotch in the other.

There was no way I’d survive this pregnancy with my hormonal frenemy. And if, by some miracle I did, I wasn’t sure my testicles would be able to provide me any other kids in the future.

* * * *

After we ate, Willow claimed she was feeling better and agreed to go explore the gardens with me. We walked hand-in-hand through an eclectic array of flowers, some that were just sprouting and some that were already beginning to fade. The contrast of winter blooms mixed with spring, sprinkled with summer buds waiting for the heat to come, was breathtaking. I made a few mental notes as we walked, thinking there was bound to be a hotel project that would want this kind of feel to it, and I wanted to remember how to give it to them.

“It’s nice here,” Willow said.

“It is,” I agreed. “I could see us getting married here.”

“Don’t start,” she groaned.

“I didn’t mean today.” Honestly, after her theatrics earlier, I was a little bit gun shy on proposing anyway.

I mean, I was definitely going to spend the rest of my life with her. And she was absolutely going to marry me one day.

Just…not today.

“Would you buy me a castle?” Willow asked suddenly.

“Yes,” I answered without hesitating. “I’ll build you one as soon as we get back if you want.”

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