My best friend ran away from her wedding 15 minutes before the vows — so her billionaire groom married me instead.
Part 2
I ripped the ruined silk over my head and threw it onto the velvet ottoman.
My chest heaved with ragged breaths as I hunted through my luggage.
I had to find something else to wear before we faced the press.
I threw the dressing room door open with enough force to rattle the hinges.
Brian leaned casually against the hallway wall, checking his gold watch.
His lips quirked into a slow, thoroughly infuriating smirk.
“Are you running out of tampons lately?”
He asked the question with a voice dripping in mock concern.
I stepped right up to him, tilting my head back to meet his gaze.
“I thought you were better than this.”
“This is the most childish revenge I have ever seen in my life.”
“Nothing could be sillier than your threat to show up at a press conference in gym shorts.”
He countered the accusation with a chillingly cool tone.
“You announced our reception to the entire world without asking my permission first.”
“You forced my hand, so don’t pretend you’re the only one playing games.”
He checked his watch a second time, entirely unbothered by my fury.
“We can discuss your wardrobe management later tonight.”
“Just go grab some clothes, if you have any left that aren’t ruined.”
It took another half hour of frantic searching before I finally slid into his car.
Brian was already behind the wheel, the powerful engine idling with an impatient rumble.
The thick air inside the vehicle crackled with mutual loathing as we sped toward the venue.
When we reached the massive building, the street was a complete sea of chaos.
Dozens of aggressive reporters and cameramen packed tightly against the metal barricades.
The relentless flashes blinded me against the tinted windows.
“What are we going to do?”
My voice trembled slightly as my breath hitched at the sheer size of the crowd.
Brian frowned deeply, his hands tightening on the steering wheel.
“Stay in the car and don’t move until I open your door.”
“We need to step out looking like a united front.”
He stepped out onto the curb, and the deafening roar of the crowd instantly intensified.
A moment later, the passenger door swung open and Brian offered his hand.
I rested my trembling palm in his as he pulled me firmly to my feet.
The absolute second my heels touched the pavement, his hand settled heavily on the small of my back.
The sudden, intimate physical contact sent a massive jolt straight through my spine.
“Don’t worry.”
His warm breath brushed against my ear in a low whisper.
“I’ve got you, just keep walking forward.”
He handled the aggressive press with terrifying grace.
He answered invasive questions about our whirlwind romance while his body remained glued to mine.
He acted as a massive, unyielding shield against the crushing crowd.
He reached over smoothly, pushing a stray lock of hair away from my face.
He leaned in close, smiling as if we were sharing a deeply intimate secret.
“Go stand over there by the entrance with Brenda.”
He nodded slightly toward the heavy brass doors.
But as I started to pull away, his grip on my arm tightened sharply.
He yanked me right back against his solid chest without warning.
Before I could even react, Brian leaned down in front of every single camera in the city.
He pressed a soft, impossibly lingering kiss directly onto my mouth.
My eyes widened in absolute shock as he pulled back just an inch.
His thumb brushed casually against my cheek as his gray eyes gleamed with triumph.
“Lose the deer in the headlights look off your face, wife.”
He whispered the command right against my lips.
He turned smoothly back to the flashing cameras with a wide, satisfied smile.
He’s playing me, but my heart is falling for it.
What would you do if you were forced to marry the man who broke you?
