Page 14 of Billion Dollar Vow (The Lincoln Brothers #4)

Karley

Thank God, it's Friday so I could finally sleep in. I’m stretched out on the sofa, sipping my coffee and watching a new show, my mind drifting back to the property.

I’ve put some earnest money down, but I still need to figure out where to get the rest before the thirty-day window is up.

My phone rings, interrupting my thoughts.

I glance at the screen and recognize Hugh’s number. My pulse quickens as I answer. “Hello?”

“Hi, Karley, it’s Hugh. How are you?”

I sit up, trying to sound casual. “I’m good, and you?”

“Yeah, I’m good too. I’m calling to let you know there’s been more inquiries about the property.”

My stomach drops, and I grip the phone tighter. “Oh, really?”

“Are you still interested in buying it?”

“Yes, of course.” I hadn’t expected this call so soon. “I’ll have the money soon.” Even as I make the promise, my mind runs through my lack of options. This house means everything to me, and I can’t let it slip away.

There’s a pause, and it makes my stomach uneasy.

“I can hold off for another week, but that’s it,” he finally says. I can hear the unspoken pressure behind his words.

“A week? Not the thirty days we discussed?” My voice comes out higher than I intended. My plan was based on that timeline. Selling my paintings should cover the amount I’m short.

“I’m sorry, but the offer is too good for the owners to turn down.”

“I’ll have the money.” I clench my jaw, determination covering the panic threatening to surface. Maybe I could get another job?

“This week?” he repeats, the words sounding more like a question than an answer, as if I could somehow push it off a little longer.

“Yes.”

“Okay, good,” he says, relief softening his voice. I can tell he wants this sale as much as I want the house, just for a different reason. “Call me when you’re ready to come in and make the offer.”

“I will.” I try to sound confident, but it comes out high, as if I’m trying to convince myself more than him.

“All right, have a nice weekend, Karley.”

“Bye.” I hang up with a shaky hand, staring at the phone.

I have a week. I open my banking app hoping for a miracle, but the balance hasn’t changed.

The bank won’t lend me the money I need.

My freelance income is too inconsistent.

And my credit score isn’t high enough for this type of loan.

I don’t know what to do. Asking Declan is out of the question.

He’ll insist on “fixing” everything, smothering me with his help while reminding me how I can’t manage on my own.

I drop the phone on the coffee table and bury my face in my hands, feeling tears forming.

But I refuse to let them fall. I can figure this out.

When I finally sit back up, I scroll through the TV until I spot something under “Continue Watching.” It’s the series I started with Oliver.

The guy who wants to marry me, and offered me money to do it. Could I ask him for enough to buy a house? No. That would be using him. But then again, isn’t his proposal a transaction? He gets the gallery, I get money.

A flicker of hope fills my chest. Maybe I could go through with it… marry him for a short time, get the house, and then move on. If I keep it transactional, I won’t grow feelings.

What other choice do I have right now?

I grab my phone again, find his number, and before I can talk myself out of it, I call.

He doesn’t answer, but I hear his smooth, raspy voicemail. I don’t leave a message. I hang up, my cheeks burning with embarrassment even though no one witnessed my moment of desperation, and decide to call Evelyn instead. She picks up after a few rings.

“Hey, it’s early,” she croaks.

“It’s ten.”

“And some people like to sleep in,” she groans. “What’s up?” she asks, sounding more awake now.

I take a deep breath, composing myself. Evelyn’s always been the impulsive one, the friend who bought a one-way ticket to New York after a bad break-up. Normally, I’m the cautious one who talks her down, but today, I need her crazy ideas, because I only have a week to find this money.

“I need help. The real estate company called about the house. They said someone else is interested, and I have a week to buy it.”

“And you had to tell them you couldn’t afford it.” Her tone is gentle and sympathetic.

“Well, not exactly...”

“What did you do?”

I consciously grimace as I confess. “Maybe I told a little white lie.”

She hisses. “Where are you going to get the money from?”

“I have an idea.” My gut knots as the words leave my mouth. Saying it out loud to her will make it real, and may turn it from a thought into an actual plan I might follow through with.

She snorts. “Selling an organ only works when you’re dead.”

I wrinkle my nose, even though she can’t see me. “Ew gross, Evelyn.”

“I’m serious. How else are you getting the money in a week?”

I hesitate, my throat tight. I gather my courage because this is the moment that once I say it, I can’t take it back.

“I could…” I start but then stop. “What if I…” I take a deep breath and finally push the words out. “Marry Oliver Lincoln.”

“Sorry, what?” she screeches so loudly, I have to pull the phone away from my ear.

Not exactly the response I was hoping for, but at least it’s not disapproval. The shock in her voice mirrors my own initial reaction to Oliver’s proposal. Bringing the phone back to my ear to talk, I continue, “He offered, and I told him no originally, but now I’m thinking about it.”

“Okay, rewind, and tell me everything.”

I do, and I find myself remembering Oliver’s kindness, respect, and strictly business demeanor about the arrangement. It sounds more reasonable and yet absurd the second time. Am I talking myself into this, or out of it?

Once she’s caught up, she sighs, and I brace myself for her reply. “I say do it. He’s so hot. There are worse things than pretending to be a billionaire’s fake wife.”

Her support sends a wave of relief through me. I’m not completely crazy for considering this.

“But what are the negatives?”

I have thought of my own… What if Warne finds out? What if he changes the terms? What if I meet someone I actually want to marry while I’m legally tied to him?

“You’d have to marry and live with an insanely hot guy. Possibly kiss and hold hands with him.”

There’s no chance of us kissing because he doesn’t like me that way, and I’m not going to try again.

I laugh. “I’d drive him nuts if we lived together.”

“It’s short-term,” she encourages.

“He said that. A few months, and then I could move out into my own house.” I can picture the sun beaming through the kitchen window, a garden I could maintain, and something permanent.

Something that’s mine. The thought sends a flutter of longing through my chest that almost drowns out the anxiety about Oliver’s arrangement.

She hums. “Now that sounds good.”

I’m interrupted by the sound of another call coming through. I check the screen, and my heart lurches when I see his name.

“I gotta go, he's on the other line,” I rush out.

“Alright, see you later and you can fill me in.”

I hang up and answer his call.

“Karley?”

“Is that what you’d call me if I was your wife?” I ask, trying to sound playful, but there’s a quiver in my voice.

“You aren’t my wife.”

“But if I was?” I ask.

“I’d answer straight away.”

I’d be that important?

“Good to know.”

“Does this mean you’ve changed your mind?”

My chest aches with longing as I picture the house I want as if I’m there again. “You said any amount, right?”

“Whatever you need, it’s yours.”

I scrunch up my face in a wince. “Say, 1.5 million dollars?” If I’m getting married, I want him to buy the house so I never have to stress about money again.

“You got it.”

He’ll give me the money for the house.

Am I really doing this?

I ignore the butterflies in my stomach and say, “I don’t need that much, but close.”

“I’ll transfer whatever you need.”

Am I actually going to agree to this?

Fuck it. “Okay.”

“Can you come to my office?” he asks, excitement barely contained beneath his professional tone. “We’ll go over the terms, and I’ll transfer you the money.”

Just the thought of us alone in a room ties my stomach in knots. I need space to think clearly, and it would be easier with people around. “Does it have to be your office?”

“I’d prefer it. It’s safer to discuss our arrangement.”

Duh .

“What time?”

“Could you come this morning? I have meetings in the afternoon.”

I peer down at my sweats, knowing I’ll have to change. “That works.”

“I’ll text you the address. Call me when you arrive, and I’ll meet you at the front. I can give you a tour.”

“Okay, I’ll see you soon.” My voice is steady, but inside, I’m a mess. This could solve everything or complicate my life beyond repair.

I’m about to hang up when he speaks. “Karley.”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

I’m standing outside the address he texted me.

I take a deep breath, letting the sun warm my face.

What is it about him that has me so flustered?

I need to treat this like a business transaction, but my heart doesn’t know how to stop pounding.

I’ve been to this gallery before, but never to his office, and for some reason, it feels more personal.

The door swings open before I can overthink it. My breath catches.

It’s Oliver, in another tight designer suit. A pale cream one this time, with a white shirt unbuttoned at the top and no tie. His brown hair is slightly tousled, and as I bring my eyes back to his face, he flashes a crooked grin. “Hey!”

His energy is infectious, I’ll admit. He’s always been the loyal, hardworking, and determined Lincoln. And undeniably handsome…

“Hi.”

“Come in.”

I follow him up the stairs, trying to focus on anything but him. The gallery is filled with bright light streaming in through the skylights and big windows. The statues and artwork are a mix of modern and classic. The scent of paper and ink washes over me, warm and inviting.