Page 2 of Marrying the Billionaire

We’re too busy posing to speak privately, and when we’re finally finished, Mackenzie’s there to guide us over to the tail end of the cocktail hour. We’re almost immediately bombarded by all sorts of well wishers with thinly veiled requests for more information about this strange turn of events. Archer keeps tight-lipped, refusing to indulge their morbid curiosity, and I take his lead, mostly because I have no clue how to respond. This is all a happy surprise for me too.

When everyone takes their seats for dinner, I realize my cheeks are aching from smiling so much. The food is to die for, our first dance perfection as I gently sway in Archer’s arms, the bouquet toss thrilling as a woman I’ve never met whoops and hollers in delight after catching it. Mackenzie’s there by my side directing us as we cut the cake, the feel of my husband’s hand warm on top of my own. He holds his fork out to me and I take a bite, a smile overtaking my face at his romantic gesture.

How could I have missed any sign from him that he felt this way about me? Did he not want to tip Gabriel off? But then why not say something back when the engagement first started? I assumed it was a family decision.

It all still seems so unreal. This honorable, kind, brilliant, insanely attractive man is mine. My husband.

He takes my arm at the end of the night, leading me out of the reception and toward the elevators. Up on the thirty-third floor is the honeymoon suite. Where Archer and I… A rush of goosebumps races across my skin at what’s to come. We’ve been surrounded by people the entire time, unable to have a private conversation. Once we’re alone, maybe he’ll want to give me a proper kiss. One that would have been entirely inappropriate at the altar.

I hold my hand over my stomach as we ascend, containing the butterflies trapped there, biting my lip so he won’t see the goofy smile that wants to break through. Almost time now.

The elevator dings upon our arrival, room 3301 directly in front of us as the metal doors slide open. I turn to him, expecting him to lift me in his arms and carry me bridal style into the room, but he merely pulls the key card out of his pocket and swipes it, holding it open for me, his face impassive.

Okay, maybe he doesn’t know about that tradition.

I squeeze the tulle layers of my gown through the doorway, eyeing him as he passes by me to slump down in a chair in the corner. He sighs as he scrubs a palm over his jaw, weariness radiating off him.

I stand awkwardly in the middle of the room as he continues to ignore me, staring down at his glossy shoes. Shouldn’t we be kissing already?

He fumbles at his neck to loosen his tie, leaning forward to remove his jacket next, his shoulders broad and defined even through his dress shirt. I release a breath, my stomach easing. He’s just getting comfortable before we get to the good stuff.

But when he pulls out his phone and starts scrolling, the butterflies from earlier sink.

“I’ll wait around for a bit and slip out a back exit once it’s died down.”

Um, what now?

“You’re an amazing actress by the way. I don’t think anyone suspected.”

My knees suddenly give and I stagger over to the bed, barely reaching it in time. If he thought I was acting, does that mean… he’s acting?

“You said you loved me.” I can’t help how small my voice sounds, how pathetic. I’m not capable of mustering anything stronger it seems.

“It’s the only thing I could think of in the moment,” he says distractedly, attention still focused on his phone. “I was just trying to recover the situation. Dad really wants this deal to go through.”

“Right,” I choke out, a weight settling in my chest. I try to take a deep breath, but the heaviness spreads, pushing my shoulders down, compressing my lungs. It’s all I can do not to let out the sob that’s building inside.

“Are you okay?”

I glance up, realizing his focus is finally on me, right when I least want it. I rub at my breastbone, then make a motion toward my back. “Can you, um, loosen these corset strings? I can’t breathe.”

“Yeah, sure.”

He settles in behind me on the bed, his breath warm against the nape of my neck. But instead of the sensation leaving a pleasant wash of shivers racing through me, it’s only more fuel for the icy dread creeping out from my chest.

When my dress is loose enough to take a deeper breath, I stand, holding the bodice up with one hand. “If you’ll excuse me,” I murmur, heading toward the bathroom.

I flip on the fluorescent light and accompanying exhaust fan, the humming drone drowning out the sound of my gasps as I brace my palms on the counter.

It was all an act? A way to preserve this asinine business deal our fathers have arranged? I still don’t even fully understand why Dad insisted on it to begin with.

“Do you need help?” Archer’s deep voice calls through the door. “With your dress? I won’t look.”

A mirthless chuckle escapes me. What a time to be a gentleman.

“I’m fine.”

Outwardly, everything is perfect. I just married a man who’s set to inherit an insane amount of wealth one day. Who’s already the CFO of his father’s billion dollar company. The guy I had a raging crush on throughout high school. The one I’ve tried to forget about over the last decade.

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