Page 54 of The Elusive Billionaire

“Tell me about the pictures.”

My pulse increases, and dizziness makes me nauseous.

“Lie down, Monroe.” He hovers over me, but my eyes must be out of focus because I see two of him. “What the fuck is going on?”

“Nothing.” I attempt to shrug him off.

“It’s not nothing. You looked this way when I first found you in the storm too. What the hell is happening?”

“It’s called vasovagal syncope.”

He repeats the words under his breath. “And?” His hands smooth down my arms until his fingers press against my wrist.

Is he— “Are you taking my pulse?”

He nods without speaking.

“I said I’m fine.” Tugging on my arm does nothing to release it from his hold. The guy has inhumanly strong fingers. “It’s something that happens sometimes in extreme stress. It’s not even that dangerous. It’s like my nervous system overexaggerates, and I pass out to protect it.”

“Monroe, I’ve gone nose to nose with you over admittedly stupid shit, but we’ve battled, and you’ve never passed out. What’s going on?”

“Exactly what I just told you.”

“You’re fighting with me now, but your pulse is evening out, not escalating. So what happened earlier to make you pass out to protect yourself?”

“We’re not friends,Patch. I’m not someone you can fix.” The acid in my words doesn’t even faze him. “I don’t owe you a goddamn thing.”

He releases my arm, and my heart starts hammering in my chest again. It’s not fair that he’s the one who holds the salve to my anxieties.

“No, you’re right.” He takes a step back. “You’re not my friend.” His towering form retreats, but as he reaches the door, he casts a devastatingly alarming grin my way. “Now you’re my problem.”

The bedroom door slams before I’ve fully processed what he said. It’s so preposterous that I laugh, slightly hysterically. The man has a severe savior complex.

“Savvy and Grey are getting married?” Pops shouts and hoots downstairs with so much glee in his tone that I bolt upright in bed and scramble to the door. I’ve never taken the stairs so quickly in my life, and when I skid to a stop in the family room, all eyes are on me.

Pops sits proud as a peacock in his recliner. “Hands down, this will be the most explosive wedding of the century.”

“There’s no wedding. Who says there’s a wedding?” My voice cracks with disbelief, and Madi starts rapidly plucking her hair elastic on her wrist until Brax wraps his hand around it to stop her. Somehow, I know this was her idea, but no matter how well-meaning she is, a marriage to Sir-Fix-a-Lot will never happen. “Grey, tell them.”

He says nothing, and when I find his glare across the room, my eyes widen. I’m shaking my head as though I can see the trainwreck before it actually happens.

“It’s not the worst idea in the world,” Braxton says.

“Not the worst idea? Did you hit your head or something?” The mud that’s dried to my skin cracks with every movement. I feel like a snake shedding its skin, except what’s beneath the scales is raw and too exposed.

“Ya know it’s right, Mr. Fix-It,” Pops taunts, and I’m normally his biggest cheerleader, but this time, I’m in the crossfire too. “I can see your head spinning over there, trying to solve everyone’s problems. Come on, Fix-It. We’ve all seen the way ya pine after our girl. It’s no secret y’all been fooling around for months. We’re old, not blind.”

“Mind your business, old man,” Grey growls. They’ve formed a very strange affection with each other since Braxton first moved here. They drive each other up the wall for sport but have an understanding that works for them.

“I’m not marrying him.”

The side conversations carry on as though I’m not even here.

“I bet ya couldn’t handle it anyway,” Pops says, garnering a soul-crushing glare from Grey. “Marriage or Savvy Sweetheart.”

“Sweetheart. Huh.” Grey scoffs, but I know Pops is antagonizing him into action. “If I were to ever marry, it would last forever because I don’t fail.”

Pops stands from his recliner and rocks back on his heels. Madi’s grandfather has never met a boundary he couldn’t scale, not even Grey’s seemingly impenetrable walls. “Prove it.”