Page 12 of Her Billion Dollar Groom

I’m hesitating, but in my heart, I’ve already made the decision. I would do anything to protect my family, and this would be the quickest, easiest way to make sure my parents aren’t homeless by the end of the week. Plus, I have spent all night thinking about how cute he is.

He’s been easy to get along with too. If this is some elaborate ploy to get in my pants, then I admire his ambition. Most other men have just asked me straight. Actually, most other men just lean straight in to try and kiss me.

“Well?” he asks. “What do you think?”

“I think you’re insane.” I laugh. “But there’s something in the idea.”

“You’re saying yes?” His eyes light up at the lack of rejection.

“Don’t make it weird,” I say. I feel like I’m seeing my whole life twist out in front of me, the path jarring wildly as I make a decision that’s about to change everything. “But yes, I think I can see how this would work. I’ll marry you. What the hell?”

CHAPTER 9

JASON

Even on the morning of my wedding day, I still check my emails.

I met Eliza four days ago, and later this afternoon, she’ll be my wife.

It’s still astounding to me that she said yes. It wasn’t a joke when I suggested it, but it did stink of desperation and gave me the look of a guy begging for some female company. Not my best ever look.

And I honestly, really didn’t mean it to look like that. Of course, maybe suggesting marriage right off the bat was extreme, but the logic is sound. It’s symbiotic. I’m not taking advantage of her any more than she is of me; we both have something the other needs, and this is an easy way to make the exchange.

It definitely has nothing at all to do with how floored I was by her confidence, how stunned I was by her pretty pink lips.

It’s been frantic at the office since Eliza announced on her socials that we’d got engaged. It feels like my whole world has exploded. Millions of people who previously didn’t knowI existed at all have been messaging me and calling me and emailing me out of the blue, all wanting to hear what I have to say about Eliza, when we met, where our first date was, how we fell in love.

I haven’t seen her since the night we met, but we’ve been texting a lot to make sure we have our cover story straight.

The story is this: we met a few months ago for the first time at some boring event and hit it off as friends. Then, at the music awards the other night, we met again by chance and realized it was love. We realized that we were both exactly what the other was looking for. Not exactly all a lie, but definitely stretching the truth.

Chris hit the roof when I told him. He is the only person I haven’t lied to about it.

“It’s a PR boost,” I said. “Nothing more.”

“You’re playing with this girl’s life? Are you completely stupid?” he yelled. “What the hell do you think is going to happen in a year when you get divorced? When she finds some other hot guy to fall into bed with and the press thinks she’s cheating on you?”

“She’s not like that,” I scoffed. But if his plan was to sow seeds of doubt, he was succeeding.

Because he’s right. I hadn’t thought about any of that. Even now it still feels like some fantasy notion, like it’s not real. And the news in my emails definitely doesn’t feel real.

Reports are flowing in saying that we’ve seen sevenfold increases in user signups, that we’re getting high-end sponsorships left and right, and the big-name companies want a share of us. Even Lemon has turned around and said they want to partner with us.

I told my team not to make any hasty decisions on that one.

It looks like the best option for us, and I’m not stupid enough to let petty revenge get in the way of success, but if we do get better offers, I’m also not above enjoying a little revenge.

None of it feels real until the second I’m standing outside the church door. I’m in a tuxedo that someone else bought for me, with a smile that’s completely fake, and the impending realization that I’m about to get married in front of a million cameras, all my friends, and — worst of all — Eliza’s parents.

God knows what they think of me.

At least I’m already rich enough that they won’t think I’m taking advantage of the fortune I’m sure many believe she has. We’re lucky that people don’t think this is about money.

I just hope her parents don’t judge me too harshly when they find out the truth.

At least, I hope they understand why we did it. That we were trying to help.

The moment the doors open, cameras go off in my face like fireworks. The whole room turns to look at me. It feels like a billion pairs of eyes are boring into my skin, seeing right through the lie that we’re telling.

---