Page 20
Story: Marrying the Billionaire
I rub my eyes, a headache forming from staring at the screen too long. Of all the pictures someone could have taken from our lunch, it had to be one from the end, Serena looking down at her lap sorrowfully, me with a deep frown on my face.
Not when we walked in and I made sure I was holding her hand. Not when we were chatting with another high profile couple. It had to be the least flattering moment.
We’ve got tonight to make up for it, though. I confirmed with Vivian and it’s the American Lung Association we’re supporting, apparently. I’ll have to head straight there from work, but that’s why I keep extra tuxes here.
There’s a knock on the door and Tracy bustles in, laying a thick folder on my desk. “Purchasing needs your signature on these.”
I open the stack to actually figure out what I’m signing, but I can’t concentrate because her mouth takes off like a rocket as usual.
“Oh my God, Serena’s just to die for, isn’t she? I totally get how you fell in love with her.”
I keep silent, experience telling me she doesn’t really want an answer.
“I postponed your five o’clock meeting till tomorrow so you have time to prepare for your benefit tonight and got in touch with Mrs. Bishop like you asked. She’s set to meet you there at six.”
It takes me a moment to realize who she’s referring to, the same as earlier when Thomas said it in the elevators.Mrs. Bishop.
The image of Mom’s ring sitting on the table during lunch with my brothers yesterday pops into my head, the oversized center diamond catching the light to shine brilliantly.
I stand abruptly, startling Tracy from whatever she was prattling on about.
“I’ll get ready to go now.”
She blinks at me for a moment, then finally jumps into action. “Of course. I hung your suit in your bathroom already. Should I tell James to pick you up earlier?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you… okay?”
I wipe my palms on my pants, refusing to give credence to whatever she thinks she sees on my face. “Never better. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She nods and exits the office, and I brace myself on the edge of my desk, inhaling deeply.
I’ve been through this. Thought I put it behind me.
So why is it happening again?
I go through the routine of getting ready and sit in the car patiently as James navigates rush hour traffic, then ask him to drop me off just before we reach our destination.
While there’s no red carpet per se, there are still photographers lined up outside the entrance, waiting to capture the perfect shot. For all I know, the event organizers hired them to make the donors feel self-important since the public won’t recognize most of the attendees.
Except for me and Serena.
It’s our first foray to an event as a married couple. Well, as a couple, period. Why didn’t I skip tonight so we have more time to prepare?
Will I ever be prepared, though?
I check my email on my phone until a cab pulls up a few minutes later next to me, Serena in the backseat. She opens the door dressed in a pale blue gown that highlights her porcelain features and fair hair, with silver stilettos and a matching shawl draped loosely over her arms.
I hold my hand out to her as she steps onto the curb, the slit in the side of her dress widening briefly to showcase long, toned legs, and I look away when I realize I’m staring.
“I was expecting to beat you here,” she comments, letting go of me to straighten the slightly frayed hem. “You worked so late last night, I was half afraid you wouldn’t come.”
What I would normally take as an off-hand remark seems different paired with her words at the end of lunch.
“I won’t leave you alone tonight.”
She pauses, glancing up at me, but otherwise stays silent.
Not when we walked in and I made sure I was holding her hand. Not when we were chatting with another high profile couple. It had to be the least flattering moment.
We’ve got tonight to make up for it, though. I confirmed with Vivian and it’s the American Lung Association we’re supporting, apparently. I’ll have to head straight there from work, but that’s why I keep extra tuxes here.
There’s a knock on the door and Tracy bustles in, laying a thick folder on my desk. “Purchasing needs your signature on these.”
I open the stack to actually figure out what I’m signing, but I can’t concentrate because her mouth takes off like a rocket as usual.
“Oh my God, Serena’s just to die for, isn’t she? I totally get how you fell in love with her.”
I keep silent, experience telling me she doesn’t really want an answer.
“I postponed your five o’clock meeting till tomorrow so you have time to prepare for your benefit tonight and got in touch with Mrs. Bishop like you asked. She’s set to meet you there at six.”
It takes me a moment to realize who she’s referring to, the same as earlier when Thomas said it in the elevators.Mrs. Bishop.
The image of Mom’s ring sitting on the table during lunch with my brothers yesterday pops into my head, the oversized center diamond catching the light to shine brilliantly.
I stand abruptly, startling Tracy from whatever she was prattling on about.
“I’ll get ready to go now.”
She blinks at me for a moment, then finally jumps into action. “Of course. I hung your suit in your bathroom already. Should I tell James to pick you up earlier?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you… okay?”
I wipe my palms on my pants, refusing to give credence to whatever she thinks she sees on my face. “Never better. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She nods and exits the office, and I brace myself on the edge of my desk, inhaling deeply.
I’ve been through this. Thought I put it behind me.
So why is it happening again?
I go through the routine of getting ready and sit in the car patiently as James navigates rush hour traffic, then ask him to drop me off just before we reach our destination.
While there’s no red carpet per se, there are still photographers lined up outside the entrance, waiting to capture the perfect shot. For all I know, the event organizers hired them to make the donors feel self-important since the public won’t recognize most of the attendees.
Except for me and Serena.
It’s our first foray to an event as a married couple. Well, as a couple, period. Why didn’t I skip tonight so we have more time to prepare?
Will I ever be prepared, though?
I check my email on my phone until a cab pulls up a few minutes later next to me, Serena in the backseat. She opens the door dressed in a pale blue gown that highlights her porcelain features and fair hair, with silver stilettos and a matching shawl draped loosely over her arms.
I hold my hand out to her as she steps onto the curb, the slit in the side of her dress widening briefly to showcase long, toned legs, and I look away when I realize I’m staring.
“I was expecting to beat you here,” she comments, letting go of me to straighten the slightly frayed hem. “You worked so late last night, I was half afraid you wouldn’t come.”
What I would normally take as an off-hand remark seems different paired with her words at the end of lunch.
“I won’t leave you alone tonight.”
She pauses, glancing up at me, but otherwise stays silent.
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