Page 15 of Marrying the Billionaire

“Oh… yeah.” Not a good liar either. Time to deflect and change the subject. “Do you have an iron? Some of my clothes are wrinkled.”

“I’ll take care of that for you.”

“Okay.” It seems Lori is definitely an extra perk to marrying. Despite Dad’s money, he never shelled out for any kind of cleaner or housekeeper for me.

We talk a while longer about food, and she even makes some new hummus for me with avocado mixed in, but I have to stop myself from gorging to save room for my lunch date with Archer. At least, I’m telling myself it’s a date. He probably considers it a business meeting.

An hour later, I step off the elevator on the fiftieth floor of Bishop Industries, receiving a few curious stares as I make my way to the reception desk, where I’m directed to Tracy, Archer’s private secretary, down at the end of the hall.

A perky brunette makes eye contact with me as I near her, grinning from ear to ear. “Shut the front door,” she says excitedly as I stop in front of her desk. “You’re really here.”

Um, yes? I’m not sure how she wants me to respond.

“I just can’t believe Mr. Bishop was in love with you this whole time,” she gushes, apparently not needing a response from me. “When I saw him declare himself like that, I nearly fell off my bed.”

“Your bed?”

“Oh, yeah. Someone was live streaming it.”

Wonderful. There’s probably already some meme floating around out there about the three of us at that altar.

“Anyway, he’s just so stoic here at the office, so it came as a huge surprise. But then when I read Gabriel’s editorial this morning in the Manhattan Herald… Wow, what a revelation.”

What’s this now about an editorial? That wasn’t part of the marketing packet.

I paste on a smile, unsure how to answer her. “Is Archer available?”

“Oh, yeah, of course. Here I am, just gabbing away.” She picks up the phone on her desk, murmuring, “Mr. Bishop? Your wife’s here to see you.”Your wifeshe mouths to me, giving me a thumbs up. Did she mix energy drink in her coffee this morning or something?

She hangs up, continuing her one-sided conversation fluidly. “Anyway, you two are just the cutest couple. You’re so gorgeous, and Archer, well, you’ve seen him. A total fox, right?”

She pauses a beat, then seems to realize what she said. “Don’t tell him I said that, okay? Oh God, I’d die if he knew I was talking about him like that. Anyway, he’ll see you now.”

I cautiously tread past her, half expecting for her to jump into another monologue, but she simply smiles at me.

The furniture in Archer’s office is eerily similar to the living room at home, all black and silver, and he glances up at me briefly as I enter. “I’ll be a few minutes,” he says brusquely, turning his attention back to his monitor. “I’ve been putting out fires since last night with my stupid outburst Saturday.”

“No rush.” Well, at least I know now why he never came out of his office again yesterday. I thought he might have been avoiding me.

But I wish he wouldn’t say stepping in like that was stupid.

I take a seat on the couch against the window and pull out my phone, curious about this editorial Tracy mentioned.

The first search engine result links me to the Manhattan Herald’s site, a photo of me and Archer exchanging rings at the top of the article. And the author is listed as Gabriel Bishop. What in the world?

Serena Montague and I had a whirlwind courtship - there’s no denying that. We rushed into an engagement blindly, not realizing how wrongly suited we were for one another, but it was too late by the time I realized it.

As we planned the wedding, I could sense the growing friendship between her and my brother, happy they were getting along even as the ease between them confused me. I didn’t recognize it for what it was, how much better the two of them fit together. But Serena and Archer were too honorable to act upon the connection.

At the rehearsal dinner the night before the wedding, I finally admitted to myself that Serena and I had rushed into this impulsively. What had been an initial spark was only that - a small ember that had already fizzled. But between her and Archer? That was a steady flame.

There was mutual respect there. Laughter from her I’d never been able to replicate. A happiness from my brother I’ve hardly witnessed in the nearly thirty years I’ve known him. But most of all, an attraction they refused to acknowledge out of deference to me. And I couldn’t be the one to deny them that. So I stepped aside.

Now, please don’t call me some kind of martyr. I should have done it earlier. I shouldn’t have selfishly thought things would be fine. But looking into Serena’s eyes at the altar, I knew I could never make her as happy as Archer could.

I wish them both a lifetime of happiness. They are two of the finest people I know.

My phone drops in my lap, surprised at Gabriel’s words. They’re obviously fake, but parts of it hit closer to home than he knows. It’s true he could never make me as happy.

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