Page 15 of If You Give a Billionaire a Bride

“The four tequila shots might have impaired my decision-making skills, but unfortunately, not my memory.” She grumbles. “I have a low tolerance for alcohol.”

“That would have been helpful information to have last night.” On the bright side, she remembers what happened.

She bites down on her lower lip as she paces the room.

I rise from the couch and move in front of her.

“Take a deep breath,” I say, placing my hands on her shoulders. “It’s going to be okay.”

I’m intrigued by the enigmatic woman before me, curious about what brought about her transformation. Above all, I want a glimpse of my Everly because I’m sure she’s still in there somewhere.

“How can you say that?” she protests. “We’re practically strangers, and now we’re legally bound together. I don’t even know what kind of car you drive, your favorite food, or if you were lying about your relationship status. Those are all things I should know about a person before I agree to date them, let alone marry them.”

God, she’s adorable when she overthinks.

“I own a Jeep Wrangler YJ Rio Grande that I store in my parents’ garage. When I’m in London, I walk to work since my apartment is close to the office. My favorite meal is my mom’s homemade lasagna and garlic bread, but I’m a fan of everything she cooks,” I say, ticking each item off on my fingers. “And I didn’t lie about my relationship status. I’m as single as a person can get.”

At least I was until last night.

She sighs. “Thank god. The last thing I need is to be the other woman this time.”

This time?

I decide against asking her to elaborate, given the predicament we’re in.

“Why don’t you have some breakfast before it gets cold?” I usher her over to the couch and gesture to the dining cart.“I ordered French toast topped with whipped cream, sliced banana, and extra syrup—just the way you like it.”

She blinks back at me. “Let me get this straight.” She puts her hands on her hips. “You woke up to find out that we were married, and instead of coming up with a solution, you ordered breakfast?”

“You could just say thank-you.”

“Why would I do that?” she retorts.

“Just in case your tastes have changed, I also ordered scrambled eggs, Belgian waffles, and an acai bowl with berries. I’ve never had a wife, so hopefully you’ll cut me some slack if I do this all wrong,” I joke, hoping to lighten the mood.

She stares ahead with a vacant expression, and after several seconds, she shakes her head like she’s coming out of a trance.

“We. Got. Married. How can you be concerned about food right now?” She waves frantically at the food cart. “You should be finding the quickest way to get out of this, not concerned about what kind of fruit I like with my French toast.”

I’ve done a lot of reckless things in my adult life. Like when I decided on a whim to spend a month off the grid in India. Or when I spent a night partying in Los Angeles with the Sovereign Kings, a world-famous rock band, and woke up the next morning in Japan. Before yesterday, my most impulsive decision was buying a private jet because I hated asking Harrison for permission to use the shared Stafford Holdings’ plane. Those things pale in comparison to getting hitched to my best friend’s sister.

“You’re right, I’m sorry.” I gesture for her to sit. This time, she gives in, sinking into the couch. “What do you think we should do?” I ask, hoping she has a plan because I haven’t thought that far ahead yet.

“We’ll go back to London and have our lawyers draw up the paperwork for an annulment. It should be straightforward, andthis will be a distant memory by next week,” Everly exclaims as she claps her hands together.

She’s a little too enthusiastic for my liking. My stomach churns at the idea of pretending this never happened. Suddenly, the few hours we spent together feels insufficient.

“Sounds like a great plan, but we have a big problem,” I tell her.

“Bigger than marrying someone in Vegas who you haven’t seen in fourteen years?” she challenges.

I chuckle at her seriousness. “If you were to ask my mom, the answer would be yes. I’m supposed to be in Aspen Grove for family photos this afternoon, and she’ll never forgive me if I’m not there.”

My mom has been looking forward to having new family photos taken for a while. She doesn’t think she sees me and my siblings enough and will find any excuse to get us together.

Dylan is the only one who lives in Aspen Grove, preferring to give his daughter, Lola, a sense of normalcy. Harrison and I have apartments in the city, located on the top floors of the Stafford Holdings headquarters we renovated three years ago. However, I’ve spent most of my time in London for the past nine months.

My sister Presley, and her boyfriend, Jack, have a massive apartment in New York that spans the entire ninetieth floor of a skyscraper and offers a breathtaking view of Central Park.

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