Page 59 of If You Give a Billionaire a Bride

That means I should also have Marcus decorate my place too.

Everly’s asked about it in passing, but I’ve deflected by telling her Marcus has been busy with another project, which is somewhat true. He’s currently decorating some pop star’s London apartment, but he would make time for another project if I asked.

I’m not ready for Everly to have her own room. We’ve only lived together for a short time, but now my entire world revolves around her. Every morning, I wake up with her snuggled beside me, then spend the day counting the hours until I can see her again.

We’ve fallen into a comfortable routine, and I’m getting attached. I might be playing with fire, but being near Everly makes me want more time with her.

“Have a wonderful night,” Carol says, waving from her desk as we leave my office.

Everly waves back with a grin. “Thanks, you too.”

I can’t shake the pang of jealousy I feel at how freely she shows fondness for Carol, even though they just met in person today. Meanwhile, I have to work around the clock to earn every smile, laugh, or hint of amusement. I’m addicted to the sound of Everly’s melodic laugh and the way her face lights up when she smiles. Her happiness makes all the effort worthwhile, though, and I’ll keep at it for as long as she lets me.

“Oh, Cash, hold on a sec,” Carol says, motioning me over to her desk. “Before you leave, I think there’s something wrong with your calendar.”

“What is it?” I ask, leaning in to look at her computer screen.

“You have an interview scheduled tomorrow for 8:00 a.m.” She points to the early morning meeting. “Should I call the candidate and reschedule?”

“No, eight works for me,” I assure her. “But thanks for confirming.”

My chat with Harrison last week prompted me to reflect on my current role at Stafford Holdings. I genuinely enjoy the work I do as COO, but my bad work habits aren’t doing anyone any favors, including myself. I’m tired of being perceived as the guy who coasts on his brothers’ achievements.

More importantly, I want Harrison to be proud of me and to prove my worth, which starts with arriving at the office on time and putting in a full day’s work. As a first step, I updated my availability for interviews I have scheduled in the upcoming weeks.

“Yeah, no problem,” Carol says, jotting on a sticky note. “I’ll see you bright and early then.” She appears uncertain about how to interpret my newfound commitment.

“Sure thing.” I nod. “Ready to go?” I ask Everly.

“Yup, lead the way.”

As we walk past the reception area toward the bank of elevators, the only sound is the click of Everly’s red stilettos against the marble floor. I can’t resist stealing a glance downward, admiring the sight of her smooth, toned legs.

The other night, I caught a glimpse of red-laced panties in her laundry basket, and I immediately picture that she has them on now under her black pleated skirt. God, what I wouldn’t give to trace my hand up her thigh, lifting her skirt to get a peek.

The ding of the elevator grabs my attention, breaking me out of my fantasy.

When the elevator doors open, I motion for Everly to enter first and follow after her. We’re the only two in the confined space, so I press the button for the lobby.

Everly lets out a loud inhale as we begin our descent.

“Are you ok—”

The flickering of lights cuts my question short, and the elevator comes to a grinding halt halfway to the lobby.

I glance over to see Everly move to the back of the elevator, staring wide-eyed at the doors. Despite my repeated attempts, they remain shut when I press the lobby button. A growing sense of unease washes over me when I pick up the emergency phone and no one answers.

My worry eases slightly when I check my phone to see that I have service. I try calling Carol, but she doesn’t pick up. I send texts to both her and the building maintenance supervisor, informing them that Everly and I are trapped and require immediate help.

The lights flicker again before going out completely.

Fuck, that can’t be good.

This is a recipe for disaster. We’re confined in a small, dark box—a scenario straight out of Everly’s nightmares—and there’s nothing I can do except wait for someone to rescue us.

“Oh my god,” she cries, her breathing growing panicked. “We’re literally hovering in midair without power. We’re definitely going to die.”

I’m quick to turn on the flashlight on my phone and set it on the ground to illuminate the space. When I turn around, Everly is now cowering in the corner, clinging to the railing.

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