Page 25 of Billion Dollar Vow (The Lincoln Brothers #4)

Karley

The movers leave, and everything’s finally put away. I sit on the edge of my new bed, taking a deep breath, about to call my adopted parents to invite them over, knowing they’ll be happy to visit to check on me and meet Oliver. I’m unlocking my phone when Oliver gently knocks on the door.

“Hey, roomie. How are you settling in?” He leans against the door frame, looking more relaxed than I’ve ever seen him. His hair slightly disheveled, like he’s been running his hands through it, and there’s a softness to his expression that makes my heart flutter traitorously.

“I’ve been here for two minutes,” I say with a half-smile. “I’ll need a bit more time to answer that.”

He chuckles, lifting off the door frame to pace the room for a moment before stopping in front of me, holding out a set of keys. “Here are the keys to the Aston, the house, anything else you might need.”

My mouth parts as I look up at him, surprised by the gesture.

There’s something so trusting about it, handing over access to everything he owns.

He jingles them, so I walk up to take them, feeling the weight of each one.

There’s something strangely comforting in this small moment.

Like I’m stepping into a new chapter, even if it feels unfamiliar.

“Sunday nights, I usually go to my grams’ for dinner,” he says, scratching the back of his head. “Would you like to come?”

Warmth spreads through my chest at the invitation.

It’s unexpected, and I’m happy at the thought of being included, but just as quickly, the warmth is replaced by a heavy feeling.

I don’t know if I can sit across from his family, especially his mom, the woman I admire so much, and pretend that everything’s normal.

Seeing her passing the halls at school is enough; sitting down to dinner feels like too much, too soon.

“But... your family doesn’t know about our arrangement. ”

“I can bring a friend,” he says, offering a soft smile.

“Thanks, Oliver, but it’s been a long weekend. Meeting all your family is... a lot for me right now,” I admit gently.

He nods, looking thoughtful. “I didn’t think about that. Sorry.”

“It’s alright.” I manage a reassuring smile. “I just need a little time to settle in.”

“Promise you’ll wait for me to watch episode three?” he asks, raising an eyebrow, trying to lighten the mood.

A grin slips onto my face. “Deal.”

“I won’t be late.”

“Stay as long as you want,” I reply softly, as he turns to leave. “I’ll be here.”

His footsteps take the stairs, and the door opens and closes, leaving me in his house alone.

I quickly call my adopted parents, and then I take the chance to explore without his watchful eyes.

The main floor is big, polished, and filled with fully furnished rooms, where many feature art pieces where you’d expect beds.

He really does love art , I think, smiling slightly.

There's something comforting about that.

I understand him a little more now, and maybe, in some small way, he gets me too.

At the top floor, I find a bright office with an incredible view of the skyline that pulls me in. The sun beams down through the large window, illuminating his desk, bookshelves, and drafting table. I turn and then freeze.

There is… my painting, one of my first, the one I’d done back at his mom’s school.

A large pink peony with two big bumble bees.

Does he realize it’s mine? No, because I don’t sign it.

The idea of putting my name on a piece of work still paralyzes me.

My heart pounds as I stare at it, hanging on the wall opposite his desk, where he would see it every day.

A part of me was already in his home unknowingly, and warmth seeps into my chest at the thought.

My stomach growls. With one last look at my painting, I head downstairs to the kitchen, running my hand over the smooth marble counter, admiring all the high-end appliances. I grab a packet of chocolate chip cookies that I brought with me, pour myself some milk, warm it up, and sit with them.

The taste of the cookies brings me back to my adopted parents and the way they used to ease my anxieties with milk and cookies.

I wonder if he ever feels alone in this big house…

The thought sticks with me. The clink of my wedding ring against the mug pulls me back to reality.

If you’d told me six months ago I’d marry him, I’d be overjoyed.

But this isn’t real; it’s an arrangement that benefits us both.

Finishing up the snack, I put the cup in the dishwasher and head to the living room. I sit on the sofa, and as I turn on the TV to a makeover show, making me think about the house I’m about to buy, I get a text message.

Oliver: You better not be watching that show without me.

I smile, glancing around as if he might be watching before texting back.

Me: No, I’m waiting for you. Stop interrupting my peace. ??

My stomach flips; it’s a lie, but also somehow true.

There’s a strange comfort in this house, yet it stirs up old memories of empty rooms and cold nights.

I settle back, focusing on the present, the soft cushions beneath me, the expensive throw blanket in my hands, and the roof above me that won’t suddenly disappear.

When one episode finishes, I scroll to find another renovation show. I’m ten minutes into that episode when I hear the front door open.

I sit up, brushing off my lap, feeling like an intruder.

He comes into the room, his cheeks slightly flushed and his hair messy from the cool evening air.

“Did you miss me?” He shrugs off his jacket.

I bite the inside of my cheek to prevent a big, stupid smile at his playfulness.

“You were gone for just over an hour, barely enough time to watch a movie.” I try to keep my tone light, but I can feel the heat creeping up my neck, and from the way his eyes glint, I know he sees it.

“I had someone to get home to tonight,” he says as he walks closer to me.

My heart skips, but I remind myself, he’s just here to watch the TV show, nothing more.

“I brought you something.” He holds up food on a plate. “My grams’ banana cream pie.”

I stare at the plate, feeling touched. He thought of me while he was with his family.

Brought this back like I belonged somehow.

I’ve never had anything like that before.

I get up to join him in the kitchen, expecting to eat it there, but he motions for us to head to the sofa with the plates.

“Come on, I’ve been dying to watch the next episode. ” He nudges me over.

I return to my spot on the sofa. Yes, I’m claiming this part of the sofa as mine. He hands me a plate, and I dig in, savoring the sugary taste. Settling in beside me, he grabs the remote to start the next episode of our show.

We watch in comfortable silence, both focused on the show as I enjoy dessert.

When I finish, I put the plate on the coffee table, feeling full.

Without warning, he grabs the throw and tucks it around me.

His hands brush against the outside of my thighs, hips, and then waist. It feels nice to be cared for, even in this small way.

When he’s finished, I give him a shy smile.

To my surprise, he sits closer. I think about moving away to keep a careful distance, but the warmth of him beside me is comforting, and I’m tired of always being guarded. Just for tonight, I allow myself this.

I try to concentrate on the episode, but I’m annoyed when my mind keeps drifting to his side against mine.

I breathe in, letting myself feel it, a small comfort I didn’t realize I needed.

When was the last time I let myself relax around a guy, accept their touch, and give in to my desire? A long time…

As the episode ends, I glance over and see his head resting next to mine. This suddenly feels too close to something I might want and can’t have. Gently, I push the blanket off and stand up. “Alright. I’m off to bed. I have school and work tomorrow.”

He sits up, stretching his arms above his head. “Yeah, I’ll be up early for a workout and then heading to work. I might not catch you before I leave.”

“That’s okay. I’ll be fine without you.”

He nods, but there’s something in his gaze, like he’s trying to read me. It reminds me of how Declan looks at me sometimes, trying to figure out if I’m really okay or just pretending to be.

“Don’t be like my brother,” I say, trying to keep it playful as I walk off.

“I’m not looking at you like you’re my sister,” he murmurs, low enough that I almost miss it. My heart stumbles over itself as I make a beeline for the stairs and head to my room, his words replaying in my head, making it impossible to shake the flustered feeling they leave behind.

I get up, the cool air hitting my skin as I shuffle toward the kitchen.

My oversized t-shirt falls just above my knees, and my thong is the only other thing on my body.

I need a drink. Something cold. My feet barely make a sound on the wood floor as I cross the dimly lit living room, the silence broken only by the hum of the fridge.

I open the door, reaching for the glass, but before I can fill it, his voice, rough and unexpected, cuts through the quiet.

“I couldn’t sleep either.”

I freeze, my heart slamming into my ribs.

My hand trembles as I grip the glass, and he steps out from the shadowed corner of the kitchen, his figure still half lost in the dimness.

But I can make out the mess of his hair, the slight tug of his jaw as he watches me.

His eyes are heavy-lidded, hooded with sleep, or maybe something else, and they lock onto mine with a force that makes my chest tighten.

I blink, fighting the sudden dizziness, and for a second, I think I must be dreaming. His presence feels too real, too electric.

“I just needed a drink.” I force the words through a scratchy throat, trying to hold on to some normalcy. My voice feels raw, barely there.