Page 29 of The Billionaire's Runaway Bride

“Tell me the truth. What happened at your wedding?”

I cross my arms. “It’s none of your business.” As soon as the words fly into the air, I want to cringe. If he’s that curious, he can look it up online. Or maybe he already has, and he’s seen the lies my parents and Jeremy are pushing. Clearly, he can see I’m not ill or hiding with a sickness. No wonder he thinks something is up.

And he doesn’t like being told no. His jaw slides and he tilts his head to the side. “Not my business, huh?”

I won’t go soft. I won’t bend to what he wants to know when he’s just as full of mystery. “I’ll tell you if you confess why a filthy rich billionaire like you is staying at a B&B like this.” It doesn’t add up. He could go anywhere in the world, but he happens to wind up here, just when I do? It’s too much of a coincidence, and I never believed in those anyway. He’s got to be here spying on me, sent by someone back in California.

“You—” He wipes at his brow, removing the sweat there, but his look of surprise remains. “You haven’t looked me up already?”

I won’t tell him that I threw my old phone away and only just got one yesterday. He couldn’t understand why I had to ditch my old self.

“No.” I shrug. Marian mentioned he was a rich boy and that’s been enough for me to know about him. “I haven’t. Should I?”

“I was stuck in a firestorm with the media,” he says, somehow stating it with indifference that can’t be warranted.

“About what?”

“A scandal.” He glances away for a moment.

I raise my brows in a silent question.

“Or two.”

Jeez. “About…?”

“A woman.”

I roll my eyes. “Of course.”

He glowers, lifting his chin in defiance.

“I called it. I told you that first day. You’re a man who thinks he’s available for every woman, no matter what.”

“You’re an expert at that, huh?” His tone is steely, but I hear the question behind it. He’s not just exchanging barbs, he’s asking. Almost legitimately.

“Never mind me. We’re talking about you.” I stab my finger at him.

“You know something about men who sleep around?” He won’t give up.

I shake my head, refusing to confirm his suspicions. Yes, I know a thing or two about spotting a cheater. I almost married one.

“You said two scandals.”

“I suffered a loss of property.”

I narrow my eyes. “Yeah, that’s not vague.”

He shrugs. “What happened at your wedding?”

“Nothing.” I can’t look at him, too angry and confused by his expression. It’s thunderous, like he has any right to be furious.

“Nothing?” he explodes, mocking me.

“Yes. Nothing happened at that wedding. Because it didn’t go as planned.”

He scoffs. “Yeah, that’s not vague,” he quips, tossing my sarcastic retort right back at me.

“It didn’t go. It didn’t happen.”

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