Page 8 of Marrying the Billionaire

I rub my temple, wishing I could see her to gauge what she’s thinking. “Can you come over to my place tonight? Maybe around seven?”

“I’d like that.” There’s that sweetness again. How can she switch between that and cold dismissal so easily?

“We, uh, never discussed living arrangements-”

“I want to live with you,” she interrupts in a rush, leaving me blinking. “I mean, it wouldn’t seem like we’re in love if we lived separately in the same city.”

“That makes sense,” I manage to get out, my world abruptly shifting. Not only married but now living with a woman I barely know. At least I have a guest room. “When do you think you’ll move in?”

“I’ll need to go through my stuff and decide what I want to keep and get rid of. I’m assuming it’s okay to bring some things with me?”

“Yeah, of course.” My head spins, already jumping ahead to the logistics of accommodating her belongings and making space in the apartment.

“Maybe a couple weeks then?”

“Take as much time as you need.” Seriously.

“Thank you.”

“I’m on the top floor of Bishop Plaza. I’ll let the doorman know to expect you.”

“Okay.”

There’s an awkward pause as my mind blanks on what to say. Everything is moving so fast.

James pulls up to the curb and I jump on the opportunity to tell her I have to go, relief settling over me as I end the call.

The building’s almost empty with it being a Sunday, but Bishop Industries is never fully closed. Dad expects twenty-four seven performance from his employees.

“The will’s been changed,” he states upon my arrival, his stare as icy as ever. “You and Connor will split the inheritance originally meant for Gabriel.”

I carefully take the seat across from him, the hard back digging into my spine. “You might not want to be so hasty-”

“Like I told you last night, I only have two sons now.”

So it seems time hasn’t lessened his anger.

I clasp my hands in front of me. “It’s your decision.” That’s become my go-to phrase over the years when I privately disagree with him. He’s not the type to take verbal dissent well.

“Has he reached out to you? Asked for money? A place to stay?” The energy surrounding him is almost manic, so different from his normal severe demeanor.

“He met Connor and me for lunch just now.” There’s no way I can lie to him. It’d be too easy for a photograph on some gossip site to pop up proving me wrong. “But he made it very clear he wouldn’t ask anything of us.”

The grooves next to his mouth deepen, almost like he’s displeased that Gabriel is following the stipulations he set. “Why are you meeting with him? Didn’t I just say he’s not a part of this family?”

I take a moment to collect my thoughts, but ultimately decide I can’t keep this from him. “Whether or not he’s your son, Gabriel’s still my brother.” I’m twenty-nine years old. It’s not his place to tell me who I can and can’t see. “But I promise not to financially help him.”

His lips thin. “And you understand the consequences if you do?”

Jesus Christ, I just said I wouldn’t help him, didn’t I? I’d never say that aloud to him, though. That was Gabriel’s problem. He never learned when to keep his mouth shut around Dad.

I nod. “So about this marriage…”

His face pinches even more. “This whole thing is a clusterfuck. I’ve had the PR team on it all morning, but they’ve barely come up with anything useful.” I don’t point out it’s Sunday and they’re probably unhappy to work on the weekend. “You’re my successor. You need someone by your side with the right image, the right connections.”

Her father owns a successful multi-million dollar tech company. What’s not to like? Besides, this is the first I’m hearing about needing a certain type of woman. If anything, Dad’s always discouraged me from dating. There are too many money-hungry women out there, according to him.

“I thought I was doing what you’d want. I kept our end of the bargain with Montague.”

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