Page 52 of Marrying the Billionaire

She crosses her arms over her chest, shoulders hunched forward. “Yeah.”

Not one of her more convincing performances.

She peeks up at me and just as quickly brings her gaze back down. “I told you, it’s stupid. Seeing him brought up some old memories is all. Especially after-” She pauses, swallowing heavily. “Last night.”

An electric thrill passes through me at her reminder of our encounter. Not at the part where she was upset, but where she basically said I was the only guy to ever get her off.

Not that we should have been doing anything like that, I remind myself. But with how sensual she is, how responsive, how is it possible I was her first?

“Thank you for getting us away.” She rubs at her arms, still not meeting my gaze. “I think the last time I was out with him, it was at an event like this actually.”

“Was it serious between you two?”

“No.”

My fists unclench before I even realize what I was doing. What do I care if she had a serious relationship before?

“But I’m guessing it ended badly? If you don’t want to see him?”

“No one likes getting dumped,” she replies softly. “But it’s in the past. Whatever.” Her back hunches further, at odds with her words.

“What happened?”

She shrugs, but I wait her out, needing to know for some reason.

“He wanted someone on his arm for events,” she eventually says. “And when that got old, I wasn’t needed anymore. It happens.”

My mind makes the connection instantly. “Is that what you think will happen? That I’ll dump you when I get what I need from you?”

She shrugs again, tightening her hold on her arms, but she’s not getting out of answering the question.

“Serena, please.”

She finally looks up at me, tears swimming in her eyes. Oh, fuck. I had no idea it was as bad as that.

“I know you didn’t ask for this,” she whispers hoarsely, like she can’t get anything louder out. “Getting stuck with me and all.”

“I’m not stuck with you.” I reach forward and wipe under her eye where a tear has dropped. What happened to the girl from earlier teasing me about working too much? “You’re my wife.”

“In public.”

My gaze narrows. What is she saying?

“When does this end?” she asks. “What’s the point where we say we’ve done enough to convince everyone?”

I don’t have an answer for her. I have no idea myself. But telling her that will only make things worse.

“Listen, I’m not worried about that right now. We’re in this together. You said that yourself last week.”

She nods, but I’m not convinced.

I take hold of her shoulders as gently as I can, the urge to soothe her the only thing on my mind. “You don’t have to worry about me dumping you. That’s not happening.”

She studies me, gaze darting back and forth between my eyes. Who’s hurt her to make it so hard for her to trust?

On second thought, who hasn’t? Her dad pawned her off on me and took her things, something bad enough must have happened with her mom that she actively avoids her, not to mention these ex-boyfriends that didn’t measure up.

“I promise.”

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