Page 90 of Resisting the Billionaire

“What?” Is she delusional?

“You and Mackenzie would always talk about all these ideas you had for it. And every time we ever went anywhere, you were so into it. You helped with everything.”

I resist the urge to itch at the back of my neck, guilt creeping over my skin. It wasn’t the wedding I was excited about.

It was Mackenzie.

“I was… trying to make the best out of a bad situation.” If she mistook my interest that badly, it can’t do any good to inform her of my true motivation now.

“Here’s your license,” the clerk exclaims, coming back in, face aglow with excitement as she waves a paper at us.

“Thanks,” I mutter as she hands it to me.

“I’ve been following your posts on ThousandWords,” she blurts out. “Congratulations.”

Not my posts. The marketing team has taken over both mine and Serena’s accounts. I stopped checking what they’re posting a week ago.

Serena gives a polite, tight-lipped smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes, and straightens her purse strap on her shoulder. “Thank you.”

I take her lead and follow her out of the clerk’s office and down the hallway, pausing halfway down. I pull her aside and bluntly tell her, “Listen, if you really don’t want to go through with this, we don’t have to.”

Maybe this is my way out. A chance again to still uphold my end of the bargain without actually having to get married.

She looks up at me from beneath lowered lashes sorrowfully. “My dad would never forgive me.”

“You don’t know that.”

“No, I do.” My eyes widen at her forceful tone, the most expressive I’ve seen her. “He outright told me.” She crosses her arms over her chest, the strong emotion just as quickly draining from her. “He’s my only family. My mom brushed me off years ago when she married her new husband.”

I release a sigh. Damn her for making me sympathize. “You can’t go against him?”

“No. He said he’d withdraw funding for my nonprofit too.”

That pit in my stomach sinks down further, but really, who am I to complain? I’m still under my father’s thumb too.

I nod, sensing her resoluteness. Not that I was truly expecting her to change her mind. My luck wouldn’t hold that long. I had my one night with Mackenzie.

And the memory of that will have to get me through the rest.

I dropmy keys in the bowl by the front door, sweat stinging my eyes as it drips down. I strip off my shirt and use it to mop up my face, walking over to the bank of windows facing the skyline. Nadia must have recently cleaned them because there’s not a streak on them.

I went harder than I should have today at the gym, and I have a feeling I’ll be paying for it tomorrow, but I needed some external focus to take my mind off things.

The rehearsal dinner is tonight. The wedding tomorrow. I’m out of time.

I gaze out the window, attempting to appreciate the view, but it doesn’t have quite the same effect it normally does. I turn around, the sleek furniture luxurious, yes, but not inviting, the marble counters in the kitchen elegant but cold. And this view? The setting sun amid the Manhattan skyscrapers? Both breathtaking and ostentatious.

Everything in here, while not decorated by me personally, suddenly seems… different. Like I’m detached from it all.

I clench my fists and release them, marching into my walk-in closet to grab the first suit on the rack and head into the bathroom to turn on the shower, the dual sprays quickly creating a warm steam that loosens my muscles.

I peel off the rest of my clothes and step into the cavernous space, my arms heavy as I reach up to wash my hair. I’ll have to take it lighter on the bench presses, but I’m still fairly sure I’ll be at the gym more than usual from now on. Anything to take my mind off what my life has become.

I stand under one of the sprays, letting the shampoo rinse out, and suddenly have to brace myself against the tile wall as my balance gives, the weight of my impending nuptials catching me anew.

What the fuck am I going to do? I’m marrying a woman tomorrow that flinches at the mere thought of being my wife. Dread washes over me in time with the shower spray, drenching me, consuming me.

I turn around, scrubbing my hands down my face hard in an attempt to block it all out. I just need to focus on something else. Take things one minute at a time if that’s what’s necessary. Concentrate on something that calms me.

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