Page 22 of Billion Dollar Vow (The Lincoln Brothers #4)

I’m tempted to kiss her. We look at each other, and I smile at seeing the flush on her cheeks. “Where to next?” she asks.

I’ve already got the next stop planned: the “O” Cirque du Soleil show.

I’ve tried to pack as many experiences in as possible, wanting her to enjoy every bit of this.

But as we get back into the car, I find myself wishing we had more alone time.

As I scroll through the photos we just took, I pause on one of just the two of us.

I’m struck by how natural we look together.

“We actually look like a real couple.”

She elbows my ribs. “Get over yourself. I was just happy to be in a helicopter. You just caught me at a good time,” she teases.

“Oh, so it wasn’t my charming personality?” I raise an eyebrow. “Just the helicopter ride?”

“Exactly,” she deadpans, then breaks into a smile that crinkles the corners of her eyes.

The shared joke turns into laughter between us. And God, it feels good. I can’t remember the last time I laughed like this.

Soon, we arrive at the show’s venue. When she spots the signs, her eyes widen, and she grabs my arm.

I find myself leaning into her excitement once more as we join the line at the entrance.

“Being your wife might not be so bad if you keep doing stuff like this,” she says as we approach the ticket counter.

Hearing her call herself my wife sends an unexpected thrill through me.

I hand our tickets to the usher, who tears the stubs and points us toward the main lobby. “Not that I want you spending money on me… but I’ve always wanted to see this.”

There’s a catch in her voice, and I realize she didn’t know I paid attention to what she likes. We follow the crowd through the grand entrance hall, passing by merchandise stands and promotional posters.

“Have you been to this show?” she asks, peering up at me with genuine interest as we navigate through the growing crowd toward the theater doors.

I shake my head. “I’ve seen Cirque du Soleil, but not this one.”

She eyes me mischievously. “Another thing you haven’t experienced.”

The theater buzzes as an usher checks our ticket stubs again and directs us down the aisle.

Karley takes in everything, the big stage, massive water tank, the performers already moving through the audience.

I find myself watching her reactions more than the surroundings, savoring each smile.

We grab a program from our attendant and stop at the private concession stand for premium ticket holders for some popcorn and candy, then settle into our plush, slightly wider seats with the unobstructed, perfect view of the stage.

“These seats are amazing, front and center, but I'd expect nothing else from you.” She smirks.

“Only the best for my wife.”

The lights dim, soft music begins, and an announcement informs the room that the show is about to start. I force my gaze away from her, though it takes more willpower than it should. There’s something magnetic about her today.

It’s spectacular; the kind of experience that sweeps you up entirely, and the show flies by.

Throughout the performance, we lean toward each other to whisper observations.

And at one point, I slip my arm around her without thinking.

She doesn’t pull away, instead settling against me as if we’ve sat this way before.

When it ends, she turns to me. “That was even better than I dreamed.”

“It’s definitely close to being my favorite,” I say as we follow the huge crowd out. Her arm loops through mine as people surround us, and the casual touch sends a warmth through me.

“Which is your favorite?” she asks, leaning toward me with curiosity in her eyes.

“The Mystere.”

“Why?”

“It’s more of a classic experience with clowns and acrobatics,” I explain, gesturing with my hands to mimic a tumbling motion.

“I don’t like clowns,” she mutters, wrinkling her nose.

This revelation catches me by surprise. After all these years of knowing her, I’d never learned this about her.

“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 to something, 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.

“Want another?” I ask, finishing mine with a last gulp, my voice gentler than intended. But I don't break eye contact, silently letting her know that whatever this is between us, fake marriage or not, it matters to me.

“Yes.” She nods, but yawns, looking as tired as I feel. “But after that, I think I’ll be ready for bed.”

The mention of bed sends my thoughts in a direction they shouldn’t go: images of her curled beside me, her hair spread across a pillow… wearing that blue lingerie set I picked out for her. I quickly redirect my thoughts, knowing I can’t act on them.

“Same,” I reply as I wave down the server.

“What time’s our flight tomorrow?”

They come and pour us another. “Morning. But as soon as we land, we have to move the rest of your stuff into my house.”

“Oh, great.” She rolls her eyes, taking a sip of her new drink. “And when my brother’s back, he’s going to show up, over-analyzing everything and laying down ground rules.”

I give her a playful nudge. “I’ll be there, so it’ll be two against one. But let’s hope he doesn’t make it back from Florida in time.”

“I hope not. The whole fatherly figure thing drives me nuts. I’m looking forward to getting some distance.”

“I’ve organized a truck and some movers, so we don’t have to do it ourselves, but we have to be there to direct them.”

She squints at me. “How did you find time to organize all of this?”

“Cora helps.”

“So I should be thanking her.” She smirks.

“Probably,” I murmur, taking another sip so we can go soon.

She wiggles her eyebrows at me. “You’d better hide all your mess and get rid of any old girlfriend stuff. Your wife is moving in.”

I hold her gaze, strangely pleased by the idea of her things in my place. “I don’t have any other girls’ stuff at my house.”

She gives me a curious look. “Oliver, can I ask you something?”

“Yes. Of course.”

“Why haven’t you had any serious girlfriends?”

Her question surprises me, my temple throbbing, but I answer truthfully. “Because I’m focused on the galleries. I don’t make much time for relationships.”

She takes another sip, eyeing me. “Hmm.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” she mumbles.

I groan. “I hate it when women say ‘nothing.’ It always means you’re thinking of something you don’t want to say.”

She laughs softly. “No, really, I’m just surprised by your answer.”

“Well, what about you?” I ask, raising an eyebrow, genuinely curious. “Where’s your boyfriend?”

A slight blush rises to her cheeks, maybe from the drinks. “I don’t have time with work and studying. Plus, now I’m focusing on getting my own place, which, thanks to you, I’ll finally have. Maybe now I’ll have time for a boyfriend.”

I sit up straighter, my jaw clenching at the thought. “Well, you’re going to be married to me for a couple of months, so I guess you won’t need one for now.”

We finish our drinks in silence, but when she yawns again, it causes me to yawn in response. I stand and hold out my hand. “Come on, wifey,” I say, smiling. “Let’s get you to bed.”

“We’re not sleeping together,” she says, rising and slipping her hand in mine.

I chuckle, though there’s a flicker of disappointment I’m not ready to acknowledge. I wonder what it would be like if this were a real honeymoon.

“I know, relax.”

We leave the club, holding hands, which causes a warmth that I’m becoming addicted to.

In the elevator, back at the hotel, I find myself drawing her closer. We enter the penthouse, and I pause at the entry to her room. Part of me wants to suggest tea, TV, or another conversation, anything to postpone the moment we have to separate. Instead, I simply say, “Goodnight, wife.”

“Goodnight, husband.” Her smile is soft, almost shy. There’s no sarcasm, just contentment. She moves to her bedroom door and closes it behind her, and I walk to my room.

Lying in bed, I twist the wedding band around my finger, barely realizing I’ve kept it on.

But this is the problem; a part of me is becoming intrigued by her in a way I’ve never allowed myself to before, even though it’s fake.

I must remember she’s only being nice because of the arrangement, the money for her house.

But still, I think of her smile tonight.

She seemed genuinely happy… Was it because of me?

As I close my eyes, I see her walking down the aisle to me, and my last thought before I drift off is how easily I could’ve kissed her for hours.