Marrying My Billionaire Hookup

“Yeah. So?” He scowls and loses focus for a moment. Maybe he’s wondering if Sonia looks bored in her video, too. “She’s sweeter than you. She caved when I told her I’d send it to her dad.”

Sweeter. Her dad isn’t funding her five-figure-a-month lifestyle so she can be a porn star. But that explains her behavior. I close my eyes for a moment. “Look, I can’t just up and marry you. My family’s going to wonder, and everyone will grill me. You know one of my cousins has a law degree, right?”

“Yeah. So I’m going to be nice because I’m not a bitch like you.” His tone says he’s doing me a huge favor. “I’ll give you a week to convince your family you’re in love with me.”

It’d be easier to convince them I was going to help the Virgin Mary open a high-tech whorehouse in Amish country. “I don’t even have a ring,” I say sarcastically.

He pulls a sapphire ring out of his pants pocket. “Here. It was my mom’s. You can have it.”

Be still my heart. The setting is ugly and the stone so small that I don’t think even a pawnshop would take it. It’s got to be one his mother doesn’t want anymore.

“Put it on,” he says. “Unless you want me to go through with Plan B.”

“What Plan B?” He never said anything about another “plan.”

He sighs, full of exasperation. “Sending the video from your dad’s account. Weren’t you listening?”

“I thought that was Plan A?”

“No! Plan A is getting married. Geez!”

“Oh. Well, still. It’s called a threat, not ‘Plan B.’”

He looks pained. “Threat is such an ugly word. So crass. I’m not a thug.”

Lord, have mercy. I wonder if killing this man would be considered justifiable homicide. Now I wish I’d studied law like Hugo. But since I didn’t and I’m not sure about my options yet, I need to buy myself some time to figure out a countermove, something that Aaron hasn’t thought of.

“Whatever,” I mutter, shoving the ring on. It’s too big for my ring finger, so I put it on my middle finger. That’s the one he deserves anyway.

“You should put that on the right finger,” he complains.

“The band’s too big. Unless you want me to lose this, you need to shut up.”

His mouth tightens. “All right, all right. Don’t take it off, because I’m not buying another ring if you lose it. Anyway, one week! And don’t ignore my texts! I’m your man now.”

More like my curse. I wonder if I should go to Mass…which I haven’t done since…I can’t even remember when…and pray for a small plane to fall on him. Or maybe a military drone could make a mistake and drop a small, one-person-sized bomb right over his head.

The sapphire winks on my middle finger, and I feel my face scrunch with distaste. How the hell am I going to convince my family I like Aaron when I can’t even stand his ring? And what are my options here, really?

Chapter Seven

Edgar

Instead of reviewing the report on Blackwood Energy’s finances like I’m supposed to, I stare at the photos on my phone. The PI I hired sent them to me this morning with a note that they were taken yesterday.

Dad looks good in the pictures. The dark hair with a hint of silver at the temples. The green eyes. The solid, oaklike frame. The relaxed “the world is my oyster” attitude that can only come from not just being born to wealth but to power.

But what concerns me the most is the emotion on his face—so full of love and longing.

He shouldn’t wear that expression when he’s gazing at Mom.

The old resentment and anger resurface. Dad said he was sorry about the role Mom played in Tony and Ivy’s near-deaths, but perhaps he wasn’t that sorry. Or perhaps, for some bizarre reason, he still honestly does love Mom. The divorce was a show, designed to prevent the brewing gossip and scandal from damaging the family’s reputation.

When I approached him about it a month ago, he said, “What do you expect me to do? I’m lonely.” His gaze flickered briefly, then he looked me in the eye. “I love her.”

“Have you forgotten what she did to this family? To Tony and Ivy?” I demanded.

“It was a long time ago. It’s time we let bygones be bygones and forgive her.”