Page 100 of Marrying the Billionaire

Serena

Istartle, a long string of drool stretching from my mouth to my arm where my head was just resting. Gross. I wipe it away, the sound that must have woken me happening again, like someone pounding on glass.

It’s dark around me, the only source of light coming from the windows along one wall, and I instinctively turn in that direction before remembering where I am. Slumped over my desk at the shelter, eventually passing out after hours of exhaustion worrying about what tomorrow will bring.

There’s more banging and I realize it’s coming from downstairs. Is someone at the outside door? It’s the middle of the night.

I stretch, my back popping as I stand. I can’t afford to spend another night here for the sake of my spine, but I also literally can’t afford to go anywhere else. I have less than a thousand dollars to my name, including the check from Mr. Bishop I cashed today. A hotel room would easily eat through that in a week. I need to be smart with my money. After the twists and turns my life has taken lately, I can’t take anything for granted.

I descend the stairs carefully, pausing as the sound of banging on the front door echoes through the lobby. Is it a drunk person? Who would expect us to be open this late? A part of me wants to go get the night worker, but I never interact with them and the kennel’s on the other side of the building, too far away for them to hear. I’d have to pass in front of the entrance anyway.

I peek my head around the corner of the stairwell, spotting a tall form standing outside. Even in the moonlight, it’s easy to make out the dark hair, muscular build, and tailored clothes. I rub at my eyes, sure I’m not seeing things right, and as the figure raises an arm to pound on the door once again, he pauses, looking in my direction.

My hand flies to my mouth to contain my gasp, my feet moving toward him on their own, stopping in front of the glass door. I gaze at Archer, his face weary, thick stubble dotting his jaw.

“Open the door,” he says, his voice slightly muffled through the glass, and my head tilts down, eyes fixating on the lock, but it’s like my brain isn’t firing on all cylinders.

“What are you doing here?” I ask instead, half sure I’m in a waking dream. He’s supposed to be in the Philippines, not here in Manhattan standing in front of my shelter in the middle of the night.

“Open the door,” he repeats, an edge to his voice now.

My arms cross over my chest, hiding my trembling hands. “Why should I? You promised-” I swallow heavily, forcing the words out. “You promised you wouldn’t leave and then you did just that.”

His jaw clenches, lips set mutinously. “Serena, I’ve been going nonstop for the past eighteen and a half hours to get to you. Open the damn door.”

His words don’t register, the hopeless anger and resentment that’s been building inside all day gushing out. “I trusted you. I thought we were on the same page. But you were investigating my family, trying to back out of the deal. If you didn’t want to be with me, you only had to say that. You didn’t have to go to such lengths.”

He grips the door handle, brows furrowed. “The business has nothing to do with us.”

“It has everything to do with us,” I cry, throwing my hands up. “You didn’t even tell me we’re not really married.”

He takes a step back, blinking hard. “What are you talking about?”

His confusion seems too genuine to be an act. Wait, did he not know that? “We never applied for a license with our names on them and remarried.”

He shakes his head, denying my words. “No, Dad said he’d get a judge to change…” He trails off, mouth twisting bitterly. “He never did that, did he?”

“I-” My hand comes up to cover my gasp, my head finally clearing. “Why are you here?”

“I thought I was rescuing you.”

Rescuing me? But it was him who did this.

I stare at him through the glass, a dawning realization coming over me. Oh my God, I’m an idiot. “Was anything your father said true?”

“My father? You spoke to him?”

“I went and visited him this morning.”

His posture stiffens. “What did he say?”

I relay everything that happened, his expression growing darker the longer I continue. “He blamed me? For stranding you with no phone? Having the police kick you out of our home?”

“Y-yes.” In the wake of his obvious disgust, it seems foolish to have ever let his father plant the seed of doubt in my mind.

“And you believed him?”

I unlock the door, my lower lip trembling as I take a step through the doorway, tears forming in my eyes. “I didn’t want to. It seemed so impossible. But I couldn’t call you. Couldn’t ask you.” The tears break free from my lashes, dripping down my cheeks. “And we had just had that awkward end to our conversation. I thought I’d ruined everything.” I sniffle, the tears coming faster now, stronger, clogging my nose, blocking my throat. “I wanted to ask you what I’d done wrong. I’m sorry I told you I love you-”

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