Page 93 of The Wrong Billionaire
The fear in Wren’s eyes cuts deep into me, and I feel a surge of helplessness. What I need is time—time to prove I’m serious, time to give her evidence to support my declaration that I’ll stay by her side and won’t leave. But if she won’t give me that opportunity, what can I do?
“There are no absolute guarantees in relationships,” I say. I hold up my hand and show her my wedding ring. “This is the closest you’re going to get. I married you, Wren. I made the biggest commitment I could. What more do you need?”
“If we’d been dating,” she says, “for a year or two, and then you’d asked me to marry you, it would have meant something. But we hadn’t even been on one date when we married! We hadn’t slept together. It was purely an arrangement.”
“One that you wanted,” I remind her.
“I know… I’m not accusing you of anything.” Her voice remains soft. “I’m just saying that these—” and she holds up her own hand to let her ring glint in the light “—are just pieces of metal. Our vows were just words. They don’t mean anything.”
Her words sting, and I stiffen. “They did to me.”
She blinks. Clearly, she didn’t expect that response. “You told me you needed a wife and heir. It was a business transaction.”
I hesitate. She’s partly right, of course, and I can’t accuse her of misreading me when I actually said those words. “We might not have said our vows in church, but they had no less meaning for me. I told you at the beginning that I wanted a real marriage. And a real family. That hasn’t changed. I—” I stop as my phone buzzes in my pocket. Dammit!
Wren shifts off me onto the sofa, and I struggle to get the phone out, then answer it. It’s Dad.
I’m tempted to cancel it, but he’s done his utmost not to call me this week, and ever since Mum was sick, I’ve always made sure to answer when he rings.
“Hello?” My tone is clipped and curt. I need to finish this conversation with Wren before I lose everything.
“I’m guessing you haven’t checked your emails lately?” Dad asks.
“No. Why?”
“A story’s broken on Korero.”
“What? What is it?”
“Just take a look.”
I put him on speaker, then bring up the news website on my phone. Wren moves closer to see what’s going on.
I don’t have to scroll far. There’s a photo of me and Wren on our wedding day. And the headline, ‘Billionaire in fake marriage deal.’
Nausea rising inside me, I skim through the article. Whoever has leaked the information has revealed everything. Dad’s imminent retirement. Tom Rutherford’s offer of acquisition. Dad’s statement to his children that if they don’t get married and produce an heir, he’s going to sell.
But, worse than that, they’ve also found out that Wren asked Caesar to donate first, and revealed my counteroffer of marriage.
It’s all done in language that makes it sound cold, calculating, and somehow sleazy.
I inhale as a wave of anger sweeps over me. “Fuck.”
“Is it true?” Dad snaps. “About Wren asking Caesar first?”
I glance at Wren. She’s gone completely white.
There’s no point in lying. “Yes.”
“Jesus.”
“It doesn’t change anything,” I insist.
But he says, “It changes everything. The board has called an emergency meeting. Caesar is on his way down to pick you up in the chopper—he should be there in about ten minutes.”
Fury billows through me. “I’m not cutting my honeymoon short because of ridiculous gossip that some hack has thrown up online.”
“You’ve just told me it’s based in fact, and the board wants answers. Attendance is not optional, Marcus. I expect to see you in an hour.” He ends the call.
