Page 61 of Marrying the Billionaire

Nope. Just a scolding because I’m actually spending time with the woman I marriedfor him.

Does he have any idea how much I’ve done this past week? The extra events, the pictures? Angelina copied him on the last email she sent about my profile’s significant bump in traffic. Whether he read it or not is a different story.

I pull out my phone and open ThousandWords, discovering that, yes, I do have considerably more engagement on my photos than normal. I scroll through, Serena’s face gazing back at me, so incredibly sexy in the one from today. In all of them, really. How is it we’ve only been together for a little over a week? It seems like so much longer than that.

Talking to her last night at the benefit, hearing her open up, and then the same way she had drawn things out of me this morning… is it normal to feel this sense of closeness already? To think about someone all the time?

Not that I’m distracted. I just swore up and down to Dad I’m not.

And I meant it. I can do my usual workload and continue this thing with Serena. She doesn’t have to… affect me.

Even though I admitted to her last night that I don’t know what I’m doing with her. That I can’t keep up with all these changes. That things were beginning to feel real.

Fuck.

I rest my head in my hands, no idea how to proceed. I can’t pretend this is solely a fake relationship anymore. Not after what we did in bed this morning. But what was it to her? She said she wanted me to touch her, but not why. Was it an in the moment thing? Both of us horny and needing a release? She’d agreed with the bullshit excuse I made the other night about letting off some steam, but is the idea really such a bad one?

What am I thinking? Of course it is. This isn’t a woman I could avoid if things don’t work out. I’m married to her.

Then again, who better to do this with? There’s obvious chemistry between us. Attraction. If I can’t fool around with my wife, then who else can I do it with?

I tug at my hair, the answer not any clearer, and return to my office, stopping at Tracy’s desk outside for her to give me my messages.

“All right, here we go,” she says, picking up a stack of post-it notes. Jesus, how many messages did I get? “Your next meeting with Finance is in twenty minutes, just as a reminder.”

Yes, I know.

“And Charles wants to reschedule his one-on-one with you this afternoon because his son’s school called and he has to go pick him up.”

“Okay, fine.” I didn’t particularly care about it anyway.

“Some guy in Advertising wants to set up a meeting with you.” She squints at her paper. “A Micah Keating? Never heard of him.”

Ugh, that guy. “Tell him I don’t have availability for a few weeks.”

She blinks at me. “But you do.”

“I know, but I don’t want to meet with him.”

“Oh, gotcha. How about I set it up for June thirty-first?”

A laugh escapes me, despite myself. It’s never good to encourage Tracy too much. “Do it and see what he says.”

She flips to the next page. “Harlan Nash called to remind you about a dinner party.”

Oh, crap, I forgot about that. The idea had little appeal to begin with, but after Serena shared her story about Courtney harassing her in high school, we’re definitely not appearing on their reality show now. “Call him back and say I’m not interested.”

She nods and runs through the rest of the stack, then sets her papers down. “Oh, and one more thing. Your wife visited you.”

What? Why didn’t she lead with that?

She points to the closed doors of my office. “She’s in there.”

I nearly growl. “Next time, tell me first if Serena’s waiting for me.”

Her eyes widen, a picture of contriteness. “Sorry.”

She may act like that now, but she’ll forget in a week. “And get me the contact for Research and Development at Montague Media.” From glancing over the list of employees and departments the COO gave me, that’s the one I have the most questions for.

“Yes, Mr. Bishop.”

I enter my office, finding Serena seated on the couch against the window, doing something on her phone. She looks up as I shut the door, her smile nearly knocking me back with how genuine it is. Has anyone ever smiled at me like that before?

She stands and walks across the room to greet me, her lips soft and inviting as she presses them to mine. There’s no one around to observe us this time, no one to pretend for, and for some reason, that makes it even better. I cup the back of her head, deepening the kiss briefly before remembering myself. “What brings you by?”

“I have some bad news.”

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