Page 99 of Resisting the Billionaire

Gabriel

Acollective gasp ripples through the room, but none is louder than Serena’s, her eyes widening to almost caricature level.

I stumble back into the spot Archer just vacated as he takes my place, joining hands with her as the minister fumbles to recover his place in the script.

I can’t see my brother’s face from this angle, but Serena appears to be in a euphoric daze as they repeat the vows and Archer says, “I do,” in a firm voice, brooking no room for argument.

My gaze shifts to Mackenzie, who’s staring raptly at the new couple, but she must sense my attention because she soon looks over at me, a beatific smile spreading across her face.

My stomach unclenches, the tightness in my shoulders loosening until my body is light, free. I made the right decision.

They finish their vows and exchange rings, Archer leaning down to give her a quick, chaste kiss upon the minister’s pronouncement they’re now husband and wife.

A hum of excitement rushes through the crowd as the recessional starts up, all eyes on the new bride and groom as they head arm in arm down the aisle.

Guests stand, craning their necks to get a better view, and my eyes flick to Dad out in the first row, blue fire raging in his gaze. I step back instinctually, more people rising from their seats to watch Archer and Serena, the level of noise growing to a din as everyone has something to say about the unexpected turn of events. A group of men in their early fifties I recognize as business associates of his approach him, and I grab hold of the opportunity to slip away toward an unmarked door on the side of the room, not knowing where it leads, and not caring. There’s no way in hell I’m walking back down that aisle in front of everyone.

As it turns out, it’s a storage closet, the single bare bulb from the ceiling illuminating shelves with stacked tablecloths and extra chairs piled high in the corner.

What the hell just happened? Did Archer… sacrifice himself for me?

His alleged confession of love was a complete crock of shit, but if the public buys it, then maybe the fallout won’t be as bad as I feared.

A pang of concern runs through me for Serena, who didn’t seem to realize Archer’s words were for show, but she’ll discover it soon enough. Hopefully he lets her down easy.

The doorknob turns and my first instinct is to press my palm against it to hold it closed, not sure who’s on the other side, but when a flash of blue lace appears, my apprehension lifts.

Mackenzie shuts the door quickly, leaning back against it with her hands behind her, the snick of a turning lock loud in the silence of the room.

We stare at each other, her eyes still teary, but she doesn’t move any closer.

“Is Archer really in love with her?” she asks quietly.

“Not that I know of.” My fingers itch to reach out and hold her, but it seems she’s purposely staying away for the moment.

“Did you know he’d do that?”

“No.”

She studies me, but I have no idea what she’s seeing on my face. Hope? Relief? Excitement? “So you called it off with no plan for what would happen afterward?”

I try my best to detect that emotion she so readily displayed out there, but she has her poker face on again. “I couldn’t marry her when I’m in love with you,” I admit. “Regardless of what you decide. But I’m yours, if you’ll have me.”

Her lower lip trembles for a moment before she takes a step forward. Then another and another, until she’s rushing into my arms, wrapping herself around me in a tight embrace.

I squeeze her back, an overwhelming sense of peace flooding through me. I’ll deal with the backlash later, with Dad’s threats, with the salacious gossip The Manhattan Herald is sure to report. For now, breathing in deeply of her gardenia-laced scent, everything is right in my world.

Her hands run over me, nearly frantic in her touch. “Is this really happening?” she murmurs, palm cupping my jaw lightly before she presses her mouth to mine, lips soft.

“Yes.” I kiss her again, needing her, but she doesn’t stay in my arms long, letting go of me to lean back, remorse all over her face.

“I thought I was making the right decision before,” she says, gripping my hands tightly. “The responsible one. But when I watched you up there, I had this moment of clarity. And I wanted to scream, to rush over and be one of those awful people who shoutsI object, to tell you how wrong I was and beg for your forgiveness.”

“The only place I want you begging is in bed.” I give her a lopsided grin, trying to make her laugh because there are still so many tears in her eyes, but it doesn’t work. They slide down in rivulets as she gives a hiccuping sob.

“I couldn’t ask you to do it, but I’m so relieved you did. I don’t deserve you,” she manages to get out. “You’ve done so much for me and I-”

“Hey.” I run my thumbs over her cheeks, cupping her face gently. “There’s no keeping score. And I literally have nothing to offer you now. Pretty sure after tonight I’ll be homeless and penniless.”

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