Page 29 of Marrying the Billionaire

She winces slightly. “They were… fine.”

“They were awful.Iwas awful. PR reamed me out earlier. Said we need a new angle.”

“Okay, what does that mean?”

“They want us to take selfies at home.” I internally scoff.Selfies. “They’re coming up with a list of more specific ideas, but I have to send something to Angelina tonight.”

She shrugs. “No problem.” Yeah, for her. She can act. “How about we just snuggle on the couch? That’s easy enough, right?”

I nod and head into the living room, taking a seat on the leather cushions, and pull my phone out of my pocket. “How should we, um-”

“Here.” She gently takes the phone from me, fiddling with the settings. “Portrait mode on. Flash off. Do you mind if I…”

She gestures to the spot next to me and I scoot over to make room for her.

“No, we need to be close. Since we’re in love.”

“Right.”

She sits down, practically on top of me with the way her thigh presses against mine, her torso angled toward me, that floral perfume of hers taunting me again. She tucks her legs under her and leans into me, my arm automatically moving behind her to make room for her against me.

I hesitantly wrap my hand around her shoulder, and she snuggles in further, holding my phone out in front of us. “You ready?”

I nod, not ready at all, which is blatantly obvious after the first few pictures she takes.

“Try smiling.”

Again, not a good look.

“Archer,” she laughs. “You’re so handsome. Why can’t you take a picture?”

“You think I’m handsome?” The question slips out unbidden.

She bites her lip, lowering the phone. “Well, yeah.”

“Oh.” A sliver of warmth snakes through me, leaving me even more tense. Why in the world should it matter that she likes the way I look?

“You seem kind of edgy. Do you want to do this later?”

“No, I want to get it over with.”

She flinches, my stomach bottoming out at her reaction.

“Not because of you,” I backtrack. “I just have more work to do after this.”

She nods, all affability gone, both of us morose as she holds up the phone once more.

How do I keep fucking everything up?

I stand abruptly and pace the length of the living room, settling my hands on the back of my neck, my chest heavy with a weight that won’t lift.

“We don’t have to take the picture,” she says after watching me for a minute. “We can do it when you’re in a better mood.”

“I’m fine,” I growl. Yeah, that was convincing. “I just wasn’t prepared. Everything’s moving so fast.”

She lifts off the couch, joining me in the middle of the living room, and wraps her arms around me, my body going still.

“What are you doing?” Is that my voice that sounds so stilted? I quickly clear my throat.

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