Page 28 of If You Give a Billionaire a Bride

Landon: I miss you, babe.

Even after two years, he won’t leave me alone. He cheated on me but thinks I should forgive him. Usually, when he’s had too much to drink, he reaches out, begging me to take him back, and other times, he’s vindictive and bitter because I called off our engagement. The first time he texted me after our broken engagement I blocked his number, but the next week he texted me from a new one.

It doesn’t help that he does business with Townstead International and that my dad thinks we should be together.

Another reason Cash and I shouldn’t be getting involved. I don’t mix business and pleasure anymore.

“Who’s texting you this late?” Cash leans over, trying to get a glimpse of my phone screen.

“Nobody,” I reply too quickly, turning the screen away from him.

“Uh-huh.” His tone is skeptical. “Make sure to tell whoever he is that you’re in bed with your husband. That should shut him up.”

I raise a brow. “How do you know it’s a guy?”

“Only an ex, a lover, or a previous hookup would text you at this hour on the weekend.”

He’s spot-on, but I’m not about to admit it.

“Good night, Stafford,” I say, sidestepping his remark. “You better stay on your side of the bed,” I warn him as I turn off the lamp.

“You weren’t concerned about designated sides of the bed last night,” he mocks in a playful tone.

I fluff my pillow and settle into it, facing him. “That was the tequila, not me.”

“Oh, so now we’re playing the blame game?” He grins from ear to ear. “In that case, I’ll do what I can to stay on my side, but this mattress has a habit of pushing me to the middle of the bed.”

“You’re unbelievable,” I scoff.

“I try my best.” He winks before he turns, his back facing me.

Why does it irk me he had the final word? No matter how many insults I toss at him, he remains unfazed.

I flip over to face away from him as he turns off his bedside lamp, plunging the room into darkness, and I squeeze my eyes shut. I’m not a fan of the dark. A few seconds go by, and Cash shifts around to get comfortable.

His back touches mine, but he doesn’t move away. I refrain from saying anything, deciding it will only encourage him. Instead, I remain still, concentrating on my controlled breaths.

While I wait for sleep to take me, my mind drifts to our unexpected kiss this afternoon.

When the photographer told Cash to kiss me, I should have protested, but there was a part of me desperate to feel his mouth on mine—the brief moment we shared at the chapel had melonging for more. As I met his gaze, I felt the gentle whisper of his breath on my skin. When our mouths met, it sparked a wildfire of affection I never wanted to end. The desire to keep him close outweighed all logical reasoning.

I press my thighs together, determined to banish the unwanted thoughts from my mind. But it’s difficult when the man haunting my dreams is lying next to me. Unable to fall asleep, my mind wanders to our night in Vegas.

Cash throws a hundred-dollar bill on the table and takes my hand.

“Where are we going?” I ask as he weaves through the piano bar, tugging me along.

“You just agreed to marry me. There’s no way in hell that I’m waiting another second to officially make you Everly Stafford.”

He opens the door to the club, and makes his way down the street.

“Stafford, wait,” I grab his arm and force him to stop in the middle of the sidewalk. “What do you mean you don’t want to wait another second? You literally just asked me.”

Cash’s expression softens, a smile forming on his lips. He cups my cheek with his hand, and traces my jaw with his fingertips. “I’ve wanted you since the tenth grade, Ev. There’s no way I’m letting the chance to call you mine slip through my fingers now.”

My mouth falls open, and my eyes widen at his declaration.

“You’re joking.”

---