Page 101 of The Billionaire's Secret
"So you read up on them?"
He raises his shoulders.
My pulse begins to race. I take a step forward, "Admit it, you did."
"Nah."
"Don’t lie to me, Saint."
"Okay…" He tugs at his collar, "Maybe a little."
"Ha!" I clap my hands, "I knew it."
"Only so I could use my knowledge at the appropriate time."
"When you could take me down?" I grimace.
"Exactly." He taps his foot on the ground, "Doesn’t change the fact that you lost."
My stomach flutters.What does it mean? What’s going to happen now that he’s beat me at my own game?He has all the bloody cards, leaving me exposed. With nowhere to hide, I glance sideways at the alarm button.
"There’s no need for that."
"No?"
He shakes his head, "We’re done here."
"We are?" Shit, why am I echoing his words? This entire encounter has a bit of the surreal attached to it. I bend my knees, grab my purse. It feels solid, familiar; I slip the strap over my shoulder.
"What now?"
"Now? We get married."
25
Saint
I had revealed my hand.Shit!I hadn’t meant to tell her I knew about her, had planned to keep that piece of information to myself. But when she’d almost completely shattered, when her gorgeous lips had parted, her pussy clamping down, reaching for the relief only I could provide, when her sugary scent had deepened, fuck, if the blood hadn’t left my head permanently to park itself in my dick. Reaching down, I adjust myself, then snatch up my phone and shoot off a text message, before following her.
She walks ahead of me, thank fuck, so she can’t see the evidence of exactly how she affected me in there. I’d trapped both of us in the elevator. Because, yeah, cliché much? Couldn’t pass up the opportunity to try to subjugate her, let her know that I hold the power… I sure hadn’t bloody intended to hand it over to her.
She pulls the rug from under my feet… When she isn’t keeping me on my toes, that is. Does she know that?
She pauses at the end of the corridor, where the double doors open into the ball room. We’re on the floor below my penthouse suite on the top floor of Claridge's. I couldn’t have chosen the venue better; guess the Seven have their uses…sometimes. Allowing me to get married and afford a quick getaway after the ceremony with my—hold on there.
I halt so quickly that my heels dig into the plush carpet below.
Marriage.
Bride.
This isn’t real. It’s a quick ceremony to seal the deal. Like it’s something I do every day—not. Treat it like a painful meeting, one in which you're surrounded by opponents looking to tear you down. I rub the back of my neck; right now, I'd take that over this mock wedding.
She turns to glance at me.
"Go on, open the door," I growl.
She frowns. "This really is unnecessary. You know that, right?"
