Page 7 of Accidentally Marrying the Billionaire

He’s tall. Broad-shouldered. Wearing a perfectly tailored tux that looks like it was made specifically to ruin my ability to think clearly. Dark hair. Sharp jaw. Intense eyes that sweep over me slowly, thoroughly.

For a second, neither of us speaks.

Then his mouth curves slightly.

“Evelyn?” he asks.

“Yes?” I say.

He cocks a brow. “Sure about that?”

I laugh and it sounds a little breathless. “Yes, I’m Evelyn.” I think maybe my brain has temporarily short-circuited. Because this man is distractingly handsome.

“Good,” he says, voice low. “You look… ready. And lovely.” He pauses, his dark eyes sweeping over every inch of my body. “You look lovely.”

I release a heavy sigh. “I hope so. I assume you’re…?”

“Mike,” he says, stepping closer. He encloses my outstretched hand into both of his. His palms are warm, cocooning my own small hand. “We don’t have much time.”

Of course we don’t. There’s always a ticking clock in these experiences.

“Oh, but I can’t forget about this,” he says, then reaches into his pocket and pulls out a ring.

It’s nothing short of stunning. Simple. Elegant. A silver or platinum band with a single, though large, solitaire. It’s the most beautiful, clear, and sparkling diamond I’ve ever seen.

My eyes widen. “Wow,” is all I can manage.

He slips the ring onto my finger. I stare at the ring, utterly dazzled. I’m sure the stone is a replica, but holy wow, does it look good on my hand. Somehow, like the dress, it fits perfectly. For a moment, it feels like I’m in my very own romantic comedy movie.

He pauses. “You ready to do this, princess?”

I nod. “I think this is just what I need.”

“I meant for us to spend more time together before the ceremony, but my last-minute trip to Japan messed with my schedule,” he explains.

I smile at him. “I suppose we have time for that later.”

“Absolutely,” he says.

“Even if it is just for pretend, you’re the hottest man I’ve ever gone out with. Gah, that’s probably really uncool to admit.”

He gives me a devastating smile. “I am always uncool,” he says. “And you, princess, are breathtaking.”

I want to argue with him about him being uncool, but I’m so struck by his last comment that I’m tongue-tied.

Minutes later, we’re stepping into a limousine, heart racing, adrenaline humming, the city lights blurring past as we pull away from the hotel.

I glance at him, this stranger who looks like a billionaire movie star and smells like temptation.

Me? Breathtaking?

All part of his character, I remind myself. I need to be sure I don’t do something completely foolish and fall in love with my fake husband this weekend.

chapter

four

Mike