Page 2 of Resisting the Billionaire

He points a finger at me menacingly. “All it takes is one shot to tell a story. How many times have I drilled that into your head? I own a social media site for God’s sake. Image is everything.”

“I know.” It comes out smaller than I intended, and I clear my throat. “I only talked to her for a few minutes. And I didn’t realize what was going on at the rest of the party or anything about this Damien guy.”

“And the other men?”

“I was photographed with them. Big deal. I’m photographed with a ton of people. I’m not close with either of them.”

Those eyes bore into me and I instinctively pull at my collar, unable to help myself.

“I’m sorry,” I tack on, hoping that’ll satisfy him.

He shakes his head. “Sorry won’t cut it this time.”

My heart speeds up at the look in his eye, but I paste on a devilish grin. “What would you like me to do to make it up then? Ribbon cutting at a new rec center? Charity fundraiser? I’ll even-” I swallow, “I’ll even post a photo at the children’s hospital if you want.” My skin itches at the thought of posting photos of the kids, but I’ll do it if it appeases him.

“No,” he says simply, his lack of theatrics worrying me more than if he was screaming, face beet red, that vein in his forehead throbbing madly.

“Okay… so what then?” I ask, not attempting bravado anymore.

He pushes the newspaper to the side, steepling his fingers together in front of him. “We need you linked with someone else.”

Linked? “You have a girl in mind?”

“I do. Serena Montague.”

I rack my brain, finally settling on the tall blonde from prep school in the grade below me. “The Ice Queen?”

His lips thin. “She has a pristine reputation if that’s what you’re referring to.”

Pristine? No wonder he wants me associated with her. He loves pointing out my every flaw. “Fine,” I shrug. “What do you want me to do? Take her out a couple times? Snap a few pics for ThousandWords?”

“You’re going to marry her.”

My mind blanks. Like literally empties of all thought. “Uh… come again?” I finally manage to croak out.

The barest sliver of delight crosses his face at my discomfort. “I’m buying her father’s company, Montague Media, and he insists on a family alliance for the deal to go through.”

What the hell? “Dad, this isn’t the Middle Ages. You can’t barter me for some business deal.”

“Then you’re cut off,” he says with a little too much glee. “If you can’t hold your weight in this family, you don’t deserve any of my money.”

I stand, my chair overturning in my haste. “Whoa, whoa, hold on. Let’s-” I rack my brain, trying to come up with some alternative. “Let’s figure something else out. I’ll get a job here in the company.”

“No.”

“I’ll work with Archer. He has too much on his plate anyway.”

“Your brother is doing fine on his own. He’s the CFO for God’s sake. He doesn’t need your help.”

“Send me over to help Connor. The Philippines project is too big for just him.”

“He doesn’t need you either. He’s proving himself more and more every day. Unlike you.”

I ignore his jab, searching for some other way out of this. He can’t be serious, right? Marrying me off to the highest bidder? It’s archaic. “What does Montague Media even have that you need?”

He leans back in his seat, pleased to see me scrambling, loving having me by the balls. “It doesn’t matter why I need it. What matters is you agree to this.”

“Why me? Archer or Connor would make way better husbands. You’ve told me time and again I’m not good for anything.” The familiar pang that usually comes along with that statement is absent, my brain too focused on finding a way out of this for my heart to care.

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