Page 54 of The Billionaire's Accidental Legacy

“It will not be. I’m round as an egg. And it’s going to be impossible to figure out exactly what size to get. Even though the wedding is in just two weeks.”

Two weeks. Already, the headlines had exploded. Already, they were under so much scrutiny, and it had been one day. So technically, she had thirteen days until the wedding.

And he’d said that they would shop for wedding dresses. She wondered if there were any down in the village near here. She could hardly imagine it.

He was intent on making a spectacle, and she wasn’t entirely sure what that meant yet.

And that was the thing about him. He came and went as he pleased.

He had been in London on business, so he said.

And when she saw the sleek jet landing just over the rise, she thought about the butterflies in her stomach.

She had no reason to be filled with butterflies.

Not at all.

They were doing this to protect their baby.

When he appeared in the estate moments later, she did her best to look bored. She experienced a mountain of messy, horrible feelings whenever she thought of him and it was killing her slowly. By inches.

She couldn’t find that neat visual marker she’d counted on for so long.

She tried to imagine a ribbon with his name on it, tied to her feelings, so she could cut it ruthlessly in her mind.

But it was red.

And it just made her angry.

“So are we going down to the village or what?”

“We aren’t going to the village.” He looked borderline scandalized. “We’re going to Paris.”

“Paris?”

“Where else?”

That was how she found herself ensconced in the private jet. She hadn’t ridden in it yet. She’d never been in a private plane.

It was... It was a stark reminder of just how far apart their positions were.

She had an estate that she owned free and clear and that was a big boon.

She had a couple of million dollars in the bank.

Another boon.

But this man was a billionaire. And he controlled more wealth than she would ever be able to fully comprehend. Well, this much wealth.

Butter-soft leather couches on a private jet wealth.

Bedroom on a plane wealth.

Lobsteron a plane.

“This is almost outrageously fancy,” she said.

He leaned back, his hands behind his head. “When did you miss the memo that I am outrageously fancy?”

---