Page 15 of Billion Dollar Vow (The Lincoln Brothers #4)

I’m completely lost in the surroundings when his hand touches my arm, bringing me back to reality and leaving a tingle in its place.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“I was just admiring the art. It’s beautiful.” Every piece has its own spotlight, perfectly arranged to draw your attention to it. “Are you planning to do something similar in the new gallery?” I ask. The color palette of ivory white, blush beige, and bronze is subtle, elegant, yet striking.

“I want the new place to have a similar look, but with a touch of something different. I’m just not sure what that will be yet.”

I nod. Imagining my paintings in a place like this makes my chest tighten with a mix of hope and dread. The fear of people mocking me or tearing my art apart makes me feel vulnerable.

“Karley?”

I shake my head, snapping out of my past, realizing I missed what he was saying. “Sorry, what?”

“Nothing important,” he says with a slight smile, his tone gentle. “Come on, let’s go to my office.”

I follow him down the hall and into a large room, which is not at all what I expected.

It’s just as inviting, with deep navy, black, white, and soft gray tones.

The painted artwork on the walls stands out, a mix of large and small pieces, with a beautiful framed canvas of flowers that matches the office perfectly.

My gaze lands on one painting hung on a wall of its own.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

I feel his eyes on me before I turn to see him watching my reaction.

“Yeah,” I murmur, still taking it all in. A rush of something intimate fills me in a way I wasn’t prepared for, bringing a strange connection to this space, and to him.

“Do you want to sit on the sofa or at the desk?”

I glance at both. The sofa feels too intimate. “At the desk. Easier for taking notes.”

“Good idea,” he says with a small nod. There’s a professional confidence in his posture now, but I catch the tap of his fingers against his desk. Maybe he’s not as completely at ease as he appears. “Want a drink?”

I want to say yes, but I have work later in the day so I better not. “No, I’m good, thank you.”

“Okay.” He settles into his sleek, black leather chair.

I take a seat, forcing myself to focus on the task and not on him. “So, how is this going to work?”

He leans forward. “Let me transfer the money first.”

“No contract?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

He looks up, meeting my eyes. His gaze assesses me with an intensity that makes my skin prickle.

There’s something almost challenging in his expression, as if he’s wondering just how much I trust him, or perhaps how much I trust myself.

“No, I trust you. Unless you’d feel more comfortable with a contract, then I’d be happy to draw one up. ”

I shake my head. “No, I’m just asking.”

“You don’t seem like someone who backs down from a challenge.”

On the outside, maybe. Inside, I’m hiding so much.

All the times I’ve pretended to be braver than I felt, like right now, sitting across from him.

Although we haven’t been close because our relationship centers around Declan, I find it comforting that he trusts me.

Which I suppose is good since I’m about to become his wife.

He turns back to his computer, then asks for my bank details.

My fingers hover over my phone, suddenly aware of what I’m doing…

giving him financial information with nothing but a verbal agreement.

The reality twists in my stomach. If this goes wrong, I’ll have nothing to fall back on, no proof, no protection, just his word against mine. But then again, that house, the kids…

“What do you need the money for?” he asks casually, but there’s a hint of curiosity in it.

I pause, considering how much to say. Declan doesn’t even know I’ve looked at houses, but if I want the money…

“A house.”

He nods, no further questions, but I don’t miss the flicker of wonder in his eyes.

“I think buying property is a smart move. Is there something you want to tell me?”

“No.”

“How much is the house?”

“1.2 million,” I say, trying to keep myself steady. Even saying it out loud makes me sweat. Maybe I should’ve just asked for the $50,000 I need for the down payment, but this is marriage so I need something big in return.

He nods thoughtfully, then looks at me with that easy smile. “I’ll give you a bit extra. You’ll need to buy things during our time together, like evening gowns. I don’t expect you to pay for those.”

I bite my tongue, resisting the urge to argue.

Normally, I would, but he’s right. If I’m going to play the part of a billionaire’s girlfriend, I’ll need the designer clothes, makeup, and hair to match.

I’m supposed to be myself while transforming my appearance to fit a wealthy wife.

It feels like a contradiction because I’ve always prided myself on authenticity over appearances.

“What should I say I do for a job?” I ask, tilting my head slightly. I brace for his answer, expecting to be either an art consultant or gallery director, something that wouldn’t embarrass him.

“Tell them you’re in school and you work at Sip N’ Paint.”

“That doesn’t bother you?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Fake or not, I’d never expect you to be someone you’re not.”

I’m momentarily caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice. “Good to know,” I say quietly, feeling my cheeks flush.

He turns to his computer, taps on his keyboard, then shifts back to face me. “The transfer is done. Check your account.”

I pull out my phone, log in, and see the money there, just like he promised. Relief floods me, though my hands are still shaky as I put the phone away, hiding them in my lap.

A tear falls, and I quickly swat it away.

“Are you okay?” he asks, reaching over to touch my arm.

The warmth of his fingers against my skin sends a tingle down my spine. It feels too intimate for what this is supposed to be. I pull back slightly.

“All good. Let’s just move on,” I say, leaning back, causing his hand to disconnect. “What are the rules?”

He pulls his hand to the desk, his brow furrowed as he leans forward. “There’s a few,” he begins, his tone shifting to something more serious. “First, my mother can’t know about the fake marriage. She can know we’re dating, but that’s it.”

“Okay, hang on, I might just take notes.” I open the notes app on my phone, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. His mother? I hadn’t considered we’d be lying to her. Lying to Warne is one thing, but deceiving his mother feels wrong.

He waits until I stop typing on my phone and looks up.

“Second, as soon as the gallery is transferred to me, we’ll file for annulment.”

I type that next.

“Third, we fly to Vegas tomorrow and return on Sunday.”

My fingers freeze mid-type. “Tomorrow?” The word escapes me louder than I intended. “As in, twenty-four hours from now?”

This isn’t hypothetical anymore; it’s actually happening. My brother would not only be furious I was flying to Vegas to marry his best friend for money, but disappointed in me. He may have agreed to the fake marriage, but this isn’t that…

Before I type that, I remember something important for this to happen. “We’ll need a witness.”

“Cora, my assistant. She’ll have to know about our wedding anyway.”

I blink rapidly, trying to process all the information he’s telling me. How will I explain a sudden Vegas trip to everyone? What should I pack for a wedding I never planned to have? How will I keep this lie up for months?

He exhales through his nose, eyes flicking away before meeting mine again. “Who do you trust to tell about this?”

“My best friend, Evelyn, and Amber.” I’ll be calling Amber as soon as I leave here. I can already picture her wide-eyed shock, followed by questions and then approval.

I watch him, waiting for a reaction, but he just nods again, his face unreadable.

“Okay,” he replies. “Also, you’ll have to come to dinners and events with me, act like a couple, and we need to live together.”

I nod, trying to keep my composure, even though my stomach does a little flip.

Luckily, Evelyn mentioned the possibility of us living together, so at least I've had time to consider that option. But her saying it versus him saying it sends blood rushing to my ears. This isn’t just paperwork and bank transfers. It’s a complete temporary life change.

“And nicknames might help.”

I blink, surprised by his suggestion. “Nicknames?”

He shrugs, looking at me with a small smirk. “Yeah. Something to make it feel more real.” His smile widens just a touch. “Maybe something fun. I can come up with something.”

And even though I came here with the idea that this is a transaction between us, I worry what all this proximity will do to us… Or should I say, do to me. But it’s also more than that. I could lose my independence and possibly even the house. Leaving me both heartbroken and humiliated.

My hands tremble, and I hide them under the desk. The air in the room seems too thick to breathe properly; the walls closing in. I’m trying to hold it together, but I need some fresh air.

“Is that all?”

“Yes, my dear fiancée,” he says, his lips curling into a playful grin. “Tomorrow, I’ll pick you up. We’ll pick out wedding rings and head to Vegas.”

I nod, forcing a smile. My heart pounds with a strange mix of excitement and apprehension. For him, this is all effortless, like breathing. But me? I’m stepping into a world I’m not sure I belong in. But I’ll play the part… Whatever it takes to get that house.

My rule for this trip? No drinking. I can’t afford to lose control with him… again.