Married to the Secret Billionaire

“Good. I’m glad for you.” Her words stop me dead in my tracks.

I frown. “Thank you,” I say, after a long, uncertain pause.

“And you’re right. I’m sorry for how I’ve treated you.”

Now I’m outright staring. Who is this, and what has she done with my ex-girlfriend? The cameras are still rolling. Is she just apologizing for them? I glance around in confusion, then shrug. “It’s in the past,” I say.

“But I want to make up for it,” she says.

Oh no. Here we go. The catch.

She smiles at me, sweet as rotten honey. “Maybe I can give Sinclair a makeover. After all, if she’s going to date you, she’s going to need to learn how to put on a good face for the cameras; god knows she needs all the help she can get.”

That does it. Any patience I had remaining frays and snaps. “Sinclair is more beautiful, inside and out, than you will ever be,” I snarl. With that, I shove my way through the crowd, ignoring the flash of cameras, the pointed videos stuck right in my face.

“Mr. Helmtree! Mr. Helmtree!” I hear voices on all sides, people shouting, asking for comments. Reporters. Paparazzi. Fuck. They must have gotten wind of the argument, or maybe just seen somebody posting about this on Twitter. Hell, they could have just looked at Lily’s social media.

It takes longer than I’d like to extricate myself from the mob. In the end, I have to call Jonathan, who speeds up to the curb so fast he nearly hits a few guys standing in the middle of the street filming. They leap out of the way, cursing, and that, at least, makes me smile, if a little grimly.

I climb into the backseat, fending off more cameras as I go, and finally slam the door against the outside world and all its bullshit. “The office,” I tell him with a groan. “I’m supposed to meet Sinclair near there for dinner in an hour. But we’re going to have to think of some way to keep Sinclair off social media for the next few days.”

The last thing I want is a terrible person like Lily spoiling this proposal with an ill-timed video. Sinclair can’t find out what really just happened here today. Not until I give her this ring and find out her answer.

The nerves churn in my gut. I love her. And I know she loves me. But is she going to want to deal with this kind of shit her entire life? People like Lily getting overly attached or dramatic just to attract followers and attention and money? I wouldn’t blame her if she wanted to opt out. I tell myself that if Sinclair says no, I have to respect that.

Even if it makes me crazy just imagining it. I need her.

But if she doesn’t want this, I won’t be like her ex. I won’t hurt her or use her. If she doesn’t want to be with me, I’ll let her go.

14

Sinclair

Shit. The pie is burning. I race toward the kitchen, glass of wine in hand, and reach the stove just in time to open the oven and remove the concoction I’ve worked all day on. Margot doesn’t understand why I don’t just order in for every meal. But I enjoy cooking. Especially cooking for Ankor, who I’m meeting out tonight. Or at least, I’m supposed to. He thinks we’re going to a restaurant, but I thought it’d be fun to surprise him at work, bring him dinner instead. Show how much love I put into it.

Margot thinks we’re both gross about our affection, but at least she approves. She’s been spending more time over since Ankor started going back to work semi-regularly this month. Which has been fun for me. She and I get along well.

It’s nice to have a female friend around.

“Shit.” I hear padding footsteps and turn to find Margot bent over her phone with a frown.

“Don’t worry,” I tell her. “I saved it before it actually started burning.”

“No, I mean, shit, have you seen Twitter?”

“I don’t have Twitter,” I point out.

She waves a hand. “Then, Insta, YouTube, whatever!” She turns her phone around and holds it out to me. “Look. These videos are all over my feeds. Looks like Marco and Lily got into it in the middle of the street.”

My eyebrows fly upward. “Really?” I grab the phone from her and squint at the videos, scrolling through them. Shit, yeah. There’s image after image of Marco yelling, then Lily scowling. I tap on one, forgetting all about the open oven behind me until it starts to beep. I kick it shut and turn it off, then click on the video again as I turn up the volume.

“Maybe I can give Sinclair a makeover,” Lily is saying, looking infuriatingly gorgeous, with her perfectly styled hair, and her hands on her perfectly sculpted, narrow hips. “After all, if she’s going to date you, she’s going to need to learn how to put on a good face for the cameras; god knows she needs all the help she can get.”