He says it like it’s simple. Like he’s offering me breakfast, not the chance to make a dream real.
I shake my head. “You can’t just—”
“I can,” he interrupts, voice softer now but firm. “You’d be helping people who need it. That’s never a waste of time. You just tell me what it takes, and I’ll make it happen.”
My throat tightens. I don’t know what to say to that—to a man who’s seen me at my most defensive, most messy, and still looks at me like I’m capable of something more.
“Langston…” I whisper. “Why would you do that for me?”
He doesn’t look away. “Because you’re my wife,” he says simply. “And maybe… because I like watching you light up when you talk about something that matters.”
I can feel the blush creeping up my neck, but this time I don’t hide it.
He watches me for a long moment after I finish talking, like he’s trying to decide whether to tease me or kiss me.
The corners of his mouth tilt up just slightly, and that’s all it takes for the tight air between us to crack into something lighter.
“So,” I say, leaning back in my chair, “does this mean I get a business card? Or do I need to marry you twice before I get an official title?”
Langston snorts into his coffee, shaking his head. “You’d have to survive one board meeting with my family first. After that, maybe.”
“Oh, great. A reward system. I’ll put it right between ‘win the lottery’ and ‘get through a week without swearing.’”
He laughs—really laughs this time—and it’s low and warm, spreading through me like a slow burn.
It feels too good hearing that sound. Too natural.
“I don’t think I’ve laughed this much before noon in years,” he admits.
I grin. “You should hang around me more often. I’m a professional chaos generator.”
“I already figured that out,” he says dryly. “I married you, didn’t I?”
I gasp, mock-offended. “Wow. Harsh words for someone who ate three of the donuts I bought.”
His smile turns into a full-on grin, and suddenly, we’re just two people sharing breakfast—not a billionaire and his new wife in a marriage that makes no sense. Just Langston and Sabrina.
He leans back in his chair, finishing his coffee. “We’ll swing by your place after this,” he says casually.
I blink. “My place?”
“Yeah,” he says, like it’s obvious. “You’ll need clothes. And then I’m taking you somewhere.”
I narrow my eyes. “Somewhere?”
“Somewhere,” he repeats, that infuriating half-smile returning.
I cross my arms. “You know, for a man who makes his living talking people into deals, you’re terrible at communication.”
He smirks, standing and reaching for his jacket. “You’ll like it, sweetheart. Trust me.”
That last word—sweetheart—makes my stomach flip all over again, but I play it cool, finishing the last bite of my donut.
“Fine,” I say. “But if this ‘somewhere’ turns out to be a meeting with your family or a surprise vow renewal, I’m walking into traffic.”
Langston chuckles as he opens the door. “Duly noted.”
And somehow, even as I follow him out of the hotel suite, I realize I’m smiling.
