Page 48 of Billion Dollar Vow

“You are scared of something?” I tease.

Her chin lifts to look at me. “Yes. My real parents always dressed up as clowns for Halloween.”

She visibly shivers, so I peel her arm out of mine so I can wrap my arm around her. Her body fits perfectly against mine.

“I promise not to scare you with clowns.”

“Good. Because if you do, I'll pay you back even harder,” she says playfully.

Our walk is slow once we get outside. It’s been a huge twenty-four hours, and I could call it a night, but I don’t think I’m ready for this night to end. I hope to at least talk more or watch TV on the sofa.

“So… where to next?” she asks, somehow still bursting with energy.

I laugh, realizing I hadn’t planned this far. “Well, we’re in Vegas, right?”

“Yeah!”

“How about a rooftop bar?” I suggest. “There’s one at Mandalay Bay with amazing views, music, and vibes. I’ve been there with Harvey once.”

“Two young Lincolns on the loose.”

I chuckle, knowing she’s right; we were the menaces out of the four of us.

“I’d like to say Harvey was worse. Now he’s about to get married, so I think his reign of terror is over.”

I find myself comparing our situations. His upcoming wedding and my already completed one. The weight of my wedding band still feels foreign on my finger, a constant reminder that I’m Karley’s husband now, even if it’s only temporary.

We arrive at the bar. The space is filled with low couches, ambient lighting, and a fantastic view of the city.

“What would you like?” I ask.

“Surprise me.”

I order us drinks and make sure we’re seated in the VIP section. It doesn't take long when you’re willing to pay whatever it takes to be in one. I just don’t want us crammed into the main area of the club. I want us to be able to continue talking; I want to know more about her.

We’re up on the rooftop bar, and she’s sipping on her mojito while I take in the view, the music thumping softly around us.

She leans in to talk in my ear. “I think your mom’s going to love the gallery when you get it.”

Her breath tickles my jaw, causing the muscle to pulse.

“I hope so. It’s crazy, having money, but still feeling like you can’t get the one thing that actually means something to someone else,” I admit. That was way more honest than I intended to be, but she makes it easy to drop my usual walls. She looks at me like she’s holding back words.

“It’s strange,” she says finally, looking out into the crowd before her eyes return to mine. “You’re not the same person I thought you were.”

I tilt my head, both intrigued and slightly unsettled by her observation. Have I changed, or has she just never seen the real me before? “What do you mean?”

She sets her glass down, taking a breath before bringing her gaze back to me. “You just always seem so confident. Seeing you admit you are scared you can’t have something... it surprised me.”

My grin widens at her honesty, but something in my chest tightens. “Of course that would excite you.” Our eyes lock for a moment longer than necessary, and I feel an unexpected pull toward her.

“Honestly, though, you're not what I pictured.” She fiddles with her empty glass, rolling it between her palms. “You pay attention and...” she hesitates, glancing away for a second, “you're not flirting with everyone like I expected.” There's a hint of relief in her voice that makes me wonder what she's been worried about all this time.

A sharp disappointment hits me that she would think I’d be chasing other women while with her, even if our relationship is fake. Does she really think so little of me? Or is it my reputation? Either way, I find myself wanting to prove her wrong… Not just for this arrangement, but because suddenly it matters what she thinks of me.

I reach across the table, my fingers lightly brushing against her hand. “I may not be perfect, Karley, but when I commit tosomething, or someone, I'm all in.” The intensity of my own statement surprises me, and I pull back slightly, caught off guard.

She looks at my hand, then back to my face, as if she’s searching for something. The moment hangs between us, charged with unspoken questions.