Page 28 of My Possessive Billionaire: Our Fake Marriage

“No way,” I said, far more casually. “I mean, sure, he’s good-looking and great in bed, not to mention fabulously wealthy, but come on. I’m just his employee. This is a transactional arrangement. I’m his pretend wife, not his real one. I’d have to be stupid to think that he might have feelings for me. And I’d be even stupider to let myself have feelings for him, right?”

Jennifer cocked an eyebrow. “Are you trying to convince me, or yourself?”

I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. Because I had nothing.

“Uh-huh. That’s what I thought. And besides, being an employee didn’t stop me and Marshall from making it work. Maybe you should give it a chance, too?”

She leaned forward slightly, her eyes aglow with mischief. “What’s the matter? What are you afraid of? Are you afraid you might like it?”

I had no idea how to reply to that. On the inside, I still worried that I wasn’t good enough for Evan. I wasn’t a supermodel, ora movie starlet, or a world-famous musician. I was a nobody. Sooner or later, he would get tired of me and find someone more exotic, like trading in a plain old sedan for a sports car.

I couldn’t see any way around winding up with a broken heart. The only problem was, I was worried I’d already gone in too deep. I was afraid I already did have feelings for Evan, and that scared me more than anything else.

Jennifer’s hand went to her mouth, and she rose shakily to her feet.

“I think I need to take off.”

“Oh my goodness, do you need me to go with you?”

“No, I’m fine, thanks,” she said, looking anything else but fine. “I may not even throw up, I don’t… I’ll be fine.”

She walked off toward the exit. I frowned with concern, but I trusted Jennifer to take care of herself and know her limits. I scowled and poked at my breakfast. The Hollandaise sauce was over-salted to my liking.

The doors to the café opened, drawing my attention since it was still pretty early in the morning. My mouth gaped open when I saw Evan. His eyes blazed with cold fury, and even though he tried to hide it, his anger was evident in his stride. The restaurant manager immediately came out from behind the counter, along with a couple of waiters. Evan had that effect on people. When he was angry, they wanted to do anything they could to soothe his mood.

He came to a stop beside the table, and I looked up at him.

“Can I help you?” I asked. “Sorry I didn’t eat breakfast with you, but you were doing your broody, beat up the heavy bag thing this morning anyway, so I thought I’d grab a bite with Jennifer.”

“You are my wife,” he snapped. “You’re going back to the manor. Now.”

I arched my brows at him. “Excuse me, but what did you just sayto me?”

“I said you left the house without my permission or consent. Now, you’re coming back with me. Immediately.”

“Are you serious—”

“Don’t make me repeat myself, Amanda.”

His nostrils flared, and I could see how he seethed just under the surface. He didn’t go all hysterical, but he was furious.

I calmly dabbed my lips with my napkin and looked up at him.

“Are you sure you want to cause a scene here,sir?”

He spun on the manager and the staff.

“You’re all dismissed for the day. Double pay for all staff, including estimates for lost tips.”

They all bowed their heads and turned about without complaint or argument. I realized it was his restaurant. Of course, he probably owned half the city.

As they left, I looked up at Evan and cleared my throat.

“Obviously I have displeased you,sir.”

“Understatement of the year, Amanda.”

“So,” I said, still in that stiff and formal yet cordial tone, “what are you going to do now? How are you going to punish me for displeasing you,sir?”

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