Page 24 of Billion Dollar Vow (The Lincoln Brothers #4)

The deal doesn’t sound so bad now. Live in a massive house, drive a fancy car, wear a pretty ring, and dress up occasionally as his “wife.” There are worse things in life. It’s not like I’ll fall in love with him.

When we get to my place, Oliver directs the movers while I pack my personal things into boxes.

I don’t have much, because growing up in foster care taught me to keep only what matters most, like my paint brushes.

Especially the ones Amber and Wren gave me.

When they adopted me and found out I loved to paint, they took me to an art store.

That day changed my life. I started to feel happy again.

Those brushes and palettes mean the world to me, and I’ll always hold them close.

After a little while, the movers start moving the boxes to the truck. It doesn’t take long; my entire life fits into just nine boxes. I direct them, one by one, feeling like I’m taking a big step forward. Oliver watches the movers and gives me space, even though he offered to help.

How did he know I needed that? I’m starting to see a different side of him. Not a rich man barking orders, but someone who reads the room and offers soft reassurances.

But what will happen when we get to his place? Earlier, I was playing about taking his bedroom, but now it’ll be my first time seeing Oliver’s house, his personal space. My brother’s been there a million times, but I haven’t, and it feels new, like unexplored territory.

The truck is packed up, and I climb into Oliver’s car, where he guides me through the turns.

It’s only ten minutes from where I was living, but it might as well be another planet.

We pull into a private garage. He drives slowly, allowing me to take in his place.

A four-story beige limestone mansion that towers over everything around it.

The large, arched windows, the dark wood and glass double doors.

It’s a complete world apart from my place with Declan.

Stepping out, I notice the other cars parked beside us.

A red Ferrari and the familiar black Aston Martin.

Evelyn’s going to lose her mind when she hears about all this.

She’ll beg me for a ride in that Aston. The thought of myself behind the wheel of either vehicle seems crazy, like playing dress-up in someone else’s life.

Would I ever feel comfortable driving something worth more than most people’s homes?

“What’s with the smile?”

Shifting my gaze from the cars to his, my smile fades, suddenly self-conscious. “Nothing.”

He nudges me with a grin. “You were looking at the Aston. Don’t lie, you’re excited to drive it.”

I roll my eyes. “Let’s just meet the truck so I can pick a room.”

“You actually sound excited.”

“Wishful thinking.” Part of me is terrified and the other buzzes with anticipation. “Now show me my new room before the truck gets here.”

His face widens, and I realize what he’s thinking, but before I can correct myself he speaks. “I’m paying them. They won’t mind waiting until we’re ready.”

We step into Oliver’s house, and I freeze in place. My eyes sweep over the entryway. It’s grand, with every wall arched and clad in artwork, warm cream tones softened by dark wood accents. The air is thick with a faint scent of fresh pine, and something warm like wood.

Oliver walks ahead, veering to the right as we enter a formal living room. “Honestly,” he says, sounding almost embarrassed. “I never use this room. It’s more for show.”

I’ve heard of rooms like this, but actually seeing one is surreal.

Cream sofas, a massive fireplace, and arched windows flood the space with natural light…

more than I’d imagined for his place. A large, ancient rug with muted mosaics and grays stretches across the dark wooden floors, giving the room a cozy, timeless charm.

His kitchen, visible from here, features sleek white marble counters with dark wood cabinetry.

I take in the faded cream rugs with intricate patterns and the assortment of paintings in vibrant, varied styles lining the walls.

His taste leans heavily toward floral art, which surprises me.

I try to imagine myself here with a morning coffee at that island.

We step back into the hallway and down toward another room. “Is this your room?” I ask softly, feeling a strange hesitancy, like I’m crossing a boundary.

“Yes, it’s mine,” he says, watching me.

The bedroom is enormous. Three times the size of my old one.

Tall ceilings, cream walls with delicate detailing, more arched windows letting in soft light.

My gaze falls on a dark green and gold tree painting framed in gold above the bed.

I’ve never seen artwork quite like it, but it’s beautiful.

The bedding is neat, all in cream, with layered, luxurious pillows.

I find myself wondering what it would be like to wake up here with sunlight filtering through those custom drapes, but then I quickly push it away.

He points to the bathroom and closet. “Feel free to look around.”

I hesitate, not wanting to invade his personal space. “Maybe just show me my room?”

He cocks his eyebrow. “You’re not taking it?”

I scrunch up my nose, trying to hide the fact it smells and feels too much like him that I wouldn’t sleep well in it. “No. You probably fart and leave marks in there.”

He laughs. “No marks, but I can’t say I’m not human. But if you wanted it, I’d happily give it to you.”

“No, this is your personal space. I was only kidding about taking it over.”Part of me wants to stay here and learn more about the private Oliver that exists in this space. But another part recognizes the danger in that curiosity.

We continue along the main hallway, passing through a vast living area that opens into the kitchen and dining room.

More dark wood, warm creams, and iron chandeliers.

The back windows let in natural light, but the kitchen feels cozier, almost shadowed compared to the other rooms. It's different from any kitchen I’ve seen.

“I actually use this living room,” he says, grinning. “This is where I watch TV when I’m home.”

I move to join him on the rug. “Oh, good,” I say. “Then we can pick up on that show we’re watching. You haven’t watched episode three without me, have you?”

He shakes his head. “No, I’ve resisted. No point if you’re not watching with me. Plus, I made a promise that I plan to keep.”

His words linger, sending an unexpected flutter through me, but I push the feeling aside. “Come on, I need to see my room so I can get the movers set up.”

We walk upstairs, and I’m grateful for the space.

Having separate levels will give me the breathing room I need.

He shows me down a hall lined with spare bedrooms, each with tall ceilings, cream walls, and their own variations of the same artful, unique style.

Every room has its own character, with different colors in the cushions and throws, and a unique piece of artwork above each headboard.

I stop in one room, captivated by a large painting of a flowering tree.

It’s beautiful, filled with pink blossoms, and something about it feels like a sign.

“I think this is the one,” I say, stepping in and lying down on the bed, melting into the plush mattress.

“Oh,” I sigh, half to myself. “This is heaven.”

“Looks like someone’s found their room.”

I open my eyes to find Oliver leaning against the door frame, watching me with an amused expression that softens into something warmer as our eyes meet.

He takes a step toward me, just as his phone pings with a notification of someone at the door. Oliver clears his throat. “I’ll get that,” he says, heading off.

As much as I don’t want to move, I force myself up before the movers catch me sprawled across the bed. I glance into the adjoining bathroom and closet, marveling at the space. The closet is much bigger than my old one. More than enough room for my stuff.

I hear heavy footsteps and voices approaching, so I step back into the bedroom. The movers file in, taking directions from me as I point out where everything should go.

Just then, my phone buzzes. Declan. I move out to the hallway, with Oliver following. “Hi.”

“Hey, just thought I’d check in,” he says, a bit stiffly. “I’m at the airport now.”

I swallow the lump that's formed in my throat from the guilt. What will he think when he finds out I’ve married Oliver for real? “Well, I won’t be home tonight.” I glance at Oliver, who’s arching an eyebrow in curiosity.

My brother’s voice drops, sounding weary. “Maybe we can meet up later?”

Oliver catches my gaze and mouths, invite him for dinner.

I fight the urge to roll my eyes, but I know if Declan sees me safe and happy, he’ll be fine with this arrangement.

“Would you want to come over for dinner next week?” I ask.

Oliver nods as he gestures to the kitchen, whispering, make it a family dinner, Armani included.

My eyes widen at the suggestion. Inviting Armani changes everything… It makes this feel like a real family gathering, not just an awkward catch-up with my brother.

“Uh, sure. Let’s do it,” Declan says finally. “I have to go, sorry, I’ll call you tomorrow.”

When I hang up, a sudden, awkward tension settles over me.

Oliver looks at me. “Make sure Evelyn comes too.”

I nod as I process having everyone together in one room.

I’m going to choose to look at this as an exciting dinner, because it’ll be fun to have all of my loved ones eating together, which leads me to say, “And I'll ask Amber and Wren.

I know they'll want to see where I'm living, too.” Yes, this will be good. Right?

Oliver rubs the back of his neck, tilting his head as he looks at me. “Meeting the parents.”

“Yeah, but you usually do it before you tie the knot.”