Page 48 of My Horrible Arranged Marriage (Bancroft Billionaire Brothers #20)

ISAAC

I woke with Mina curled into my side, her head on my chest and her hand resting just below my collarbone. The sheets were twisted around us, her leg tangled with mine, the sunlight barely beginning to creep through the tall windows of the penthouse. Her breathing was soft, steady. Peaceful.

And just like that, my morning was already perfect.

I didn’t move for a while. Just stared at the ceiling and listened to her breathing. Normally, I’d be up already. I’d probably go for a swim or go to the gym. Maybe eat breakfast. But I didn’t want to get out of bed. I didn’t want to move away from her.

She made time slow down. I could forget the world existed beyond my bedroom. I thought about some of the sappy vows I’d been reading. We were writing our own vows, and I needed some ideas. At first blush, the vows sounded ridiculous. Cheesy. But I suddenly got it.

I lay there with the feeling of her body pressed against mine.

And for the first time in my life, I understood what it meant to have someone who felt like home.

Mina wasn’t just a woman I loved—she was my moon, my world, the gravity that kept me grounded.

I’d spent so much of my life untethered, floating from one thing to the next, never really caring where I landed.

But with her, it was different. She was my anchor, my center.

I thought about the vows I’d been scribbling down in fits and starts over the past few weeks.

At first, they’d felt ridiculous. Too flowery, too sentimental.

But now, lying here with her, they made sense.

Every word I’d written felt true. She was my everything.

My beginning and my end. My calm in the chaos. The other half of my crazy.

I brushed a strand of hair away from her face, careful not to wake her. She stirred slightly, her hand tightening on my chest before she settled again. I smiled to myself. Even in sleep, she was holding on to me.

The guilt crept in then, like it always did when I let myself think too much.

I’d built this relationship on a lie. At least half a lie.

Every moment of happiness felt like borrowed time.

I told myself it didn’t matter anymore. That the way I felt about her now was real, and that was enough.

But deep down, I knew it wasn’t that simple.

When she found out—and she would find out—it wouldn’t matter how much I told her I loved her.

I ran my fingers through her hair and kissed the top of her head.

God help me, I wanted every day to start like this.

With her.

Shit .

I’d gone soft.

She stirred against me, stretching like a cat, then blinked up at me with sleepy eyes. “You’re staring.”

“Am I?”

“You are.”

“You’re very stare-worthy.”

She smiled lazily. “Mmm, good save.”

“I try.”

I kissed her again, just because I could.

“I’m going to start setting my alarm for four,” she said.

“Why?”

“So I can get up, brush my teeth, and put on a little makeup,” she answered.

I frowned. “Why?”

“Because I can’t imagine I’m looking like the woman you took to bed last night,” she joked.

“You look sexier than the woman I took to bed,” I replied. “I like you naked.”

“I like you naked.”

“Good because I have zero intention to wake up before you to get all prettied up,” I told her.

“I like you like this.” She reached up and ran her hand over my scruffy jaw.

“Yeah?” I asked, my voice husky.

“Yep.”

“Well, just for that, I’m going to make you breakfast in bed,” I said. “Well, toast. I can make eggs, but I don’t know if I have any.”

“I like the sound of that.”

I was halfway to the kitchen when she called after me.

“Hey—do you have any decaf tea?”

I blinked, turning back. “Tea?”

“Yeah,” she said, tugging the covers around her. “I’ve been off caffeine for a bit. Just something herbal or chamomile, if you’ve got it.”

I opened the cabinet and scanned the boxes. “You mean this mountain of untouched herbal tea Kathy keeps foisting on me for Christmas?”

“That’ll do.”

“You’re so lucky you’re cute,” I said, pulling out a peach-chamomile blend that looked vaguely drinkable.

I made her tea, poured myself a coffee, and returned to the bedroom with both mugs in hand.

She had propped herself up against the pillows, her hair a mess around her face, the sheets wrapped tightly around her like some kind of Grecian goddess.

She looked like something out of a painting.

The muted sunlight streaming through the window highlighted her perfect skin. It felt like a donkey kick to my chest.

Fuck. She was gorgeous. And mine.

“You always make me look so dramatic in your head, don’t you?” she teased as she took the tea from me.

“Not my fault you’re luminous.”

“Luminous?”

“Regal. Ethereal. Lit from within. I can keep going.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “Please don’t.”

“Radiant,” I said.

“Maybe you should be a poet,” she teased.

“Only if you’re my muse,” I shot back, grinning as I climbed back into bed beside her.

She sipped her tea, her nose wrinkling slightly at the taste, but she didn’t complain.

I took a long drink of my coffee. She was so effortlessly beautiful, even with her hair a mess and no makeup on.

It was almost unfair how much she affected me.

“So,” she said after a moment, setting her mug on the nightstand and turning to face me. “Another day, another full schedule.”

“You sure you don’t want to elope,” I asked.

“After all the work we’ve put in, hell no.” She laughed.

We lounged there for another twenty minutes, sipping our drinks and watching the world begin to wake beyond the windows. I kept glancing at her, marveling at the fact that she was mine—until I remembered that small, sharp truth buried in my gut.

I pushed the thought down.

Eventually, she checked the time and groaned. “Okay. I’ve got to go. Dress fitting, makeup trials, and about ten thousand other pre-wedding things. My stylist’s going to kill me if I’m late again.”

I nodded. “I’ve got to pick up my tux, too.”

She climbed out of bed and padded over to where the overnight bag sat near the bathroom.

Watching her move around my space like she belonged there tugged something fierce inside me.

She had left a few things at my place. After we returned from the honeymoon, we’d go through the hassle of packing and moving her things to the penthouse.

“Do you need the driver?” I asked.

She glanced up. “I texted him already. He’s downstairs.”

I crossed the room and caught her by the waist before she could duck into the bathroom. “Wait?—”

She turned to me, amused. “What?”

“I need one more kiss before you go.”

Her eyes sparkled. “Just one?”

“Well, maybe two. Or three. Or twenty-seven.”

“You’re absurd.”

I kissed her anyway, slow and sweet. She pulled away, then leaned in again for a second, a third, a fourth. We started counting them out loud, giggling between each one like kids with a secret handshake.

By the time we reached thirteen, she was laughing into my mouth, and I felt like the luckiest bastard alive.

“Go,” I said, giving her one last kiss on the nose. “Or you’ll be late.”

She slipped out the door with a wave. I stood there for a long time after she left, the empty room still humming with her laughter. I was so lost. I would feel like an idiot if the feeling of loving her didn’t feel so good.

I made my way back to my bedroom and hopped in the shower. A week. One more week and she would be mine.

I drove to the tailor and was quickly ushered into a changing room.

My tux was hanging on a hook for me to try on one final time.

I hoped like hell it fit right. I didn’t want that guy coming at me with the pins again.

I stepped into the fitting room and changed into the tux, then stared at my reflection in the mirror.

I looked like a man on the verge of something big. Huge.

The fabric hugged my shoulders perfectly, tapered down my waist, the vest sitting snug, the shirt crisp and pale. I could already see Mina’s face when she saw me in it.

I looked like a man ready to be a husband and hopefully a daddy in the near future. That was a sentence I never thought I would say. But it was real. For the first time in my life, I felt like I was finally in the right place at the right time.

This was real.

I was getting married.

I was going to be a husband.

Mina Duvall was the woman of my dreams. She was the only person who ever made me feel like being myself was enough.

She made me feel like basic Isaac Bancroft was good enough for her.

I didn’t have to impress her. She fell in love with me despite all the many flaws I knew I had.

She loved me because of the flaws. She loved me because I wasn’t the perfect man.

And I was lying to her.

I stared at my reflection, the smile slipping from my face.

What the hell was I doing?

Every day, I looked her in the eye. Every day, I told myself I’d tell her the truth. Every day, I chickened out.

I could give myself a hundred reasons—Hectar put me in a terrible position, we were falling for each other already, the lie had grown legs of its own—but none of it mattered.

I should have told her.

And now?

Now it felt like ripping the truth out would destroy everything we’d built. She trusted me. She confided in me. She looked at me like I was her anchor in a chaotic world. If I took that away from her—if I let her fall and didn’t catch her—how could I live with myself?

But if I kept lying?

That was worse.

Should I tell her now? I knew the answer.

Of course I should tell her. But I knew the likely outcome.

And I wasn’t sure I could survive her leaving me.

Something inside me told me I would never find someone like her again.

Mina was the only person I was supposed to be with. She was put on this planet for me.

If she leaves after I tell her, it means she was never really mine. It means I don’t get to keep her just because I wanted her. I had to earn her. And I couldn’t do that if I was hiding something big.

I didn’t want to lose her. I couldn’t lose her. But the longer I waited, the worse the fallout would be.

I changed out of the tux and put it on the hanger. An attendant came in a minute later and quickly zipped it into a bag before we went up front to pay for it. I carefully draped the bag over the passenger seat in my car. It was just a tux, but it felt like my entire future was in that bag.