Page 75 of Billion Dollar Vow

“I know, but this is perfect for our show.”

My heart squeezes painfully. I swallow, looking out in my peripheral vision, noticing all their eyes on me.

All for show.

My eyes burn from hurt and anger. I’d begun to imagine moments like this could be real between us. Standing in his embrace, I suddenly picture myself back at the house, alone in my room while he’s out living his real life when our arrangement ends, and I’m packing to leave. What am I doing, letting myself get attached? This is a business deal, not a love story. It switches something in me. I picture myself in my new house and startquestioning my reasoning. Taking a deep breath, I focus on the ball and let him guide me.

We hit the ball, and it sails forward. “I did it,” I cry, surprised at my own excitement over something so small. His warm body leaves me, and I’m a mix of pleased and sad. Paige and Eden clap, and Mr. Warne says, “Good job.”

It’s Mr. Warne's turn again. I'm standing with the others as Oliver slips his arm around my waist. I lean into him without thinking and peer up at him. His gaze remains straight ahead, focused on Mr. Warne, but he turns slightly and winks at me.

Mr. Warne hits the ball far, and he turns with a smile that grows as soon as he spots his wife. Moving to Eden, he kisses her softly, whispering something that makes her laugh. The easy affection between them stirs something in me.

As we walk the course, following our balls, reality crashes back. Once this agreement is up, what happens then? I’ll still be at his mother’s school. Declan will still be his best friend. Our lives are tangled in ways I hadn’t fully considered before. A clean break might be impossible.

We finish the nine-hole game in three hours, thanks to my inexperience with every swing. Despite my initial embarrassment, I found myself enjoying the afternoon a lot more than I expected. Paige struggled too, which made me feel less alone. Though Oliver kept his competitive edge with Mr. Warne and Liam, he never once showed frustration, unlike Liam, whose patience with Paige had clearly worn thin.

The clubhouse gives us the most surreal backdrop of the New York City skyline and the iconic Statue of Liberty. As we walk farther in, I’m in awe. This place exudes sophistication, with glass walls and sleek furniture perfectly set up to enhance the view. Inside, we pass private lounges and head into a first-class dining room. I follow like a little lost puppy, holding Oliver's hand for guidance.

We arrive at the table, where Oliver pulls out a chair for me before taking his seat beside me. Eden sits across from me with her husband at her side, while Paige and Liam take the remaining seats. As soon as we settle in, the service begins. A white napkin is laid across my lap, water is poured, and I’m asked if I’d like a drink. The girls order wine and the boys order scotch. I order a soda and Oliver orders the same. I lean into him. “You can have a scotch to blend in.”

He moves his mouth to my ear. “No. I don’t need a drink to have a good time.” He squeezes my thigh. “I’m in good company.”

“Or good free entertainment?” I raise an eyebrow, and my lips lift, remembering all my mistakes on the golf course.

“Both. I hope you had a good time.”

I smile at his warm eyes, getting lost in them. It suddenly feels like it’s just us here. “I did, aside from being embarrassed by how bad I was. It was fun.”

He leans closer. “Don’t be embarrassed, we were all bad once.”

I roll my eyes playfully, leaning back, touched by his attempt to make me feel better. “Yeah, right.”

“No, I’m serious. Once I forgot to put the cart in park, and it rolled downhill and into a pond.”

I giggle, covering my mouth.

“I had a squirrel once take my ball and run off with it,” Mr. Warne adds, pulling my gaze to him, having forgotten we should be engaging with them.

“My ball hit a tree once, ricocheted off a second tree, and ended up in another golfer's cart,” Liam adds. Something feels performative about it, like he’s sharing the story to fit in, rather than genuinely connecting.

The light chatter of the restaurant buzzes softly around us, accompanied by the clink of utensils and soft laughter from other tables.

Eden swirls her drink thoughtfully, casting a sly glance at her husband.

“I would say don’t wear white,” Eden says, a mischievous glint in her eyes. Her gaze flickers to Mr. Warne, and a knowing smile passes between them. “I slipped on the grass once, and received some interesting looks while walking to the restaurant.” Her eyes roll dramatically, and a giggle escapes her lips as she sweeps her gaze around the table.

I find myself warming to her even more. Despite her obvious wealth and status, there’s something refreshingly unpretentious about Eden. She doesn’t take herself too seriously, and I appreciate how she’s trying to make me feel better about my own mishaps.

Oliver’s hand rests on my thigh, his thumb tracing small circles. His warmth seeps through the fabric of my skirt, grounding me as I lean into him. “You’re not alone,” he says softly, his voice low and reassuring.

Feeling a bit of the tension ease from my shoulders, I flash him a genuine smile.

I want to return the favor, remembering something Oliver told me about Mr. Warne’s teasing remarks about him “pretending to enjoy art.” An idea forms in my mind, and I decide to share a story that will help Oliver’s case while maintaining our cover.

“Dan, you should see how good Oliver is at painting,” I announce suddenly, earning a sharp intake of breath from Oliver. His surprise ripples through me, but I press on, undeterred.

Mr. Warne’s bushy gray eyebrows shoot up, curiosity dancing across his face. “I didn’t realize you painted,” he says, his tone genuinely intrigued.

---