Married to the Secret Billionaire

“What is it?” he asks, crawling across the bed to where I’m frozen in horror, staring at my cell.

I don’t know what to say, so I just turn the phone around to show him, instead. It’s a message from my cousin, Katrina. Just a single attachment, a photo, and a quick note beneath. IS THIS YOU??

The photo is a screenshot of the Daily Gossip’s front page, dated today—a few hours ahead of our time zone here, since that paper’s based out of London.

MIA Billionaire Playboy Marco Helmtree Spotted on Vacation in Maui with His New Fling. Beneath the headline is a photo from last night. It’s blurry, lit only by the bonfire. But unfortunately our faces are all too clear. Me wrapped in Ankor’s arms, swaying to music, both of us smiling as we dance.

My stomach churns. I think I’m going to be sick.

“Fuck.” He swears, under his breath at first, and then louder. “Fuck. Who took this?”

I shake my head. There was at least a couple dozen people at the party. “It could have been anyone.”

“We should talk to Enrique and Jessica. If it was one of their friends, maybe they know…”

“Does it matter?” I interrupt, unable to restrain myself. My voice rises higher, to a fever-pitch. “It’s too late now. Finding someone to blame won’t take the picture off the internet. Everyone knows now, everyone’s seen…” I trail off, too horrified to even finish the sentence.

“Sinclair.” He finally looks at me, for the first time since I handed him the phone and tore our world apart. I think it’s the first time he’s noticed the level of panic in my eyes, really noticed it. He was too wrapped up in his own concern to notice until just now. But now that he sees it, he reaches for me, and takes both of my hands in his, squeezing my hands tightly. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

I take a deep breath. I’d hoped this moment would never come. Or that if it did, at least it would be my choice. Not forced upon me by a situation like this. But it’s too late now. That newspaper is well-read; that photo will have made it into inboxes all around the world.

And into one inbox in particular.

I force myself to meet Ankor’s gaze, as steadily as I can. “My life is in danger. And so is yours.”

9

Ankor

The last thing I expected to wake up to this morning was the truth about Sinclair’s past. But thanks to that damn photo, it seems like that’s what I’m about to get.

I hold her hands, not saying anything, just being here for her until she gathers up the courage to speak again.

“I told you I was a virgin,” she says. “That’s true. But not because I haven’t dated before.” She hesitates. Checks my face, as if to gauge my reaction, then lowers her eyes once more before she speaks again. “I met my first boyfriend my last year of college. We dated for years, but he was so traditional—he wanted to wait until we were married and living together to have sex. He said anything else was…” She pauses. Swallows hard. “Was dirty. That women who had sex before marriage were ruined and disgusting.”

I clench her hands more tightly, if only to stop mine from shaking with anger. I have a feeling I know where this is going, and it already makes me want to tear this guy apart, before I even know details.

“He was… he was really sweet at first. Most of my friends liked him. All except for my cousin… She thought he was too nice. She was suspicious. She tried to tell me that some of the stuff he did was controlling—stuff like calling me every night to make sure I got home safe and making me text him whenever I went anywhere besides work or home. I just thought it was romantic. That he was protective.” Her breath hitches again. “My parents died when I was young, and I had no siblings. My cousin was my closest family, and she lived hours away. I wasn’t used to having people, much less someone who cared about me the way he did…”

I wish I could just wrap her in my arms and take the pain away.

I wish I could rip apart the man who made her feel this terrified. Because that’s what this is. Her hands tremble in mine, even now, with fear.

“He just got more and more controlling. He thought I spent too much time at work. He started showing up at the hospital at weird hours, trying to catch me in the act, he kept saying. He was convinced I was cheating on him. Nothing I said could convince him otherwise. I thought once we got married, he’d relax, get better. I quit my job for him, and we agreed on a wedding date… But it only got worse after that. He…” She gently disentangles one hand from mine and reaches up to stroke her right shoulder. Where the scar that made her freak out when I first saw it is.