Page 33 of My Possessive Billionaire: Our Fake Marriage

As the night wore on, I felt a mounting sense of dread. I knew that Evan was still mad about the wedding ring. Sooner or later, the party would be over, and then I would have to deal with the fallout.

I didn’t know why I was so worried. I supposed that I felt like I’d been a bad employee, and my boss was going to give me a dressing down. Then I thought of the other ways he could give me a dressing down, and it gave me all kinds of consternation.

At the end of the night, when most of the room had emptied out and the really hardcore people had gone on to the afterparty, Evan and I took our leave. We moved past a multitude of paparazzi, many of whom had remained outside for hours waiting for our return. We held hands, waving occasionally when someone called out to us, but trying to affect an air of weariness so that no one would be upset if we didn’t stop to chat.

The driver hastened to open the door to Evan’s sleek, black stretched limo. Evan put his hand on my back and didn’t exactly shove me in, but it was kind of a forceful push.

He climbed in after me and glared the moment the doors shut.

“What is your problem, Amanda?”

“What? Is this about the wedding ring?”

His nostrils flared as he continued to fume with anger.

“You’re damn right this is about the wedding ring. What were you thinking? What kind of loving wife leaves her wedding ring at home on the first big public outing as a married couple?”

I cocked an eyebrow at him.

“Slow your roll, Evan. You’re starting to sound more like a jealous husband than my employer.”

That took some of the wind out of his sails, but he was still full of plenty of bluster and hot air.

“Fine. Let’s look at it from that perspective, Amanda. Let’s look at it from the perspective of an employer and his employee.”

I didn’t like the tone of his voice. It took everything I had not to cringe away from him. He was seething mad about this, I realized. I really didn’t think it was that huge of a deal. The paparazzi certainly hadn’t thought it was all that big of a deal once we got past his attempt at a ‘gotcha’ moment.

“So, I hired you for one purpose, which was to pretend to be my wife. Correct?”

“I don’t see why we have to go through this bullshit—”

“We’re doing this my way because I have the power and the money. I’m your boss, you’re my employee, remember? Now answer the question. I hired you to pretend to be my wife. Correct?”

I sighed.

“You know that I did—”

“Answer correct or incorrect only.”

I felt anger surge through me. I bristled like a line of pikemen on a medieval battlefield.

“Correct,sir.”

His eyes narrowed to slits. Evan’s face darkened as he continued his tirade.

“Not only did I hire you to be my pretend wife, but I also hired you to be mylovingpretend wife. Correct?”

I hated him for making me play this stupid game. It made me feel like I was ten years old and in the principal’s office again. I sullenly glared back at him as I answered.

“Correct,sir.”

“A loving wife, which you are contractually obligated to portray, would not forget to wear her wedding ring. She would revere that wedding ring and the bond it represents, correct?”

Okay, so he technically had me there. I’d been remiss in my duties of portraying his loving wife.

“Correct, sir.” I dropped my gaze to my lap. “All right, I admit it. I screwed up. I dropped the ball—whatever analogy suits you best. All right? I messed up.”

“It’s about time I heard some accountability coming out of your mouth instead of some excuse or backtalk.”

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