Page 14 of Her Billion Dollar Groom

None of those words are ones I would use to describe Jason.

If I had to describe Jason in three words, I think I’d go for uptight, scrawny and kind. He’s not tall, he’s not broad, he’s not muscular. He’s not a smooth talker or a charismatic presence. He’s not brooding and interesting or possessive. But he is sweet. Not once has he tried to get his hands all over me. And when he listens, he really pays attention, with a slight tilt of the head and a crease in his forehead as his eyebrows knit together. He always gives me the impression that he’s really listening to me.

He’s certainly not the kind of guy I’ve ever been with before.

He’s also not a terrible kisser.

The wedding I dreamed of as a kid also came with a dream honeymoon to the Caribbean or Hawaii or somewhere else tropical. Somewhere with a beach and a secluded cabin, somewhere where my dream man and I could spend every second together, relishing each other’s company.

Jason and I spent three days in New York, sharing an admittedly expensive and fancy hotel room but very little alone time. God knows what we would even do if we had time alone together. I’m not really attracted to him, and he certainly isn’t to me, or if he is, then he’s doing a damn good job of hiding it.

He’s the only person I’ve met, maybe in my whole life, who sees my humanity over my womanhood. I haven’t caught him looking at me in an inappropriate way even once. He really isn’t that type of guy. It’s kind of refreshing and, if I’m honest, a bit annoying.

I know none of this marriage is real, but I always imagined I would have a husband who would want to have me around.

Anyway, I hate New York. It’s too crowded, too busy, too tall. And I know I’ve lived in LA all my life, but people are rude in New York. People here have no problem pushing you out of theway, and every four yards there’s a tourist attraction, so there are always millions of Europeans buzzing around and getting in the way.

Jason’s PR team decided it would be a good idea for us both to go to the Empire State Building, to go to the top and look out at the city like we’re in one of those boring movies from the 60s. Jason told me which one we were re-enacting, but I forgot the information immediately. I don’t like old movies.

Not only did we do the Empire State Building, but also pretty much every other tourist attraction New York has to offer. None of it was without cameras, and none of it had even the tiniest bit of genuine feeling behind it. Even in our hotel at night when we were finally alone, he would claim to be tired and go straight to sleep.

We’ve barely spoken at all.

Suddenly, this rushed arranged marriage thing is starting to feel like a stupider idea than it already did.

We’ve decided that I’m going to keep my apartment in the city, but for appearance’s sake, I’m going to move to his mansion for the year. While I was in New York, I had my team pack up all my essentials, so when I got back, all we had to do was jump into the trucks and drive over to Jason’s house.

It’s an incredibly modern-looking place. It’s all glass and steel, smooth curves and pristine lawns. When my army of trucks and I make our way down the drive, I find my mouth dropping open as I take in my new home.

Jason comes to meet us at the door. “What’s all this?” he asks, gesturing to the trucks.

“My stuff.” I frown.

“This is all your stuff?”

My heart sinks. This is getting off to a great start. “It’s okay that I brought my stuff, right? I thought, you know, because I’m moving in…”

“No, it’s fine,” he says in a voice that suggests it’s not really fine, but he doesn’t have any choice. “Come in, I’ll show you to your rooms.”

“Rooms, plural?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

He nods. “I thought you’d be comfortable if I put aside the entire west wing for you.”

“I’m getting a wing?” I grin.

“Sounds like you’ve never lived in a house before.” He chuckles, and I bite my lip, staring at the ground.

“I’ve never lived anywhere this big before.”

“Right,” he says quietly, and offers no further insight into why he’s chosen to live in a mansion. I would have assumed a power play status symbol - that’s what most people who live in big houses do it for. But Jason strikes me as a humble kind of guy, someone who’s not into showing off his wealth. Maybe he has more secrets he’s not telling me.

We head inside, and he leads me down a maze of corridors to my room.Rooms. We hit a door, and with a small smile, he opens it for me, gesturing for me to enter my new living area. It looks out onto the hills.

“This will be yours,” he says, smiling awkwardly, clasping his hands together in front of him like he doesn’t know quite whatto do with them. “You get great views of the sunset from here. There’s any streaming service you can imagine on the TV, and you’ve got your own spaces in this wing: kitchen, bathroom and bedroom. There’s even a spare bedroom, in case you want to have anyone over, anytime.”

“Great,” I say softly, not feeling it at all. What kind of someone does he think I’m going to be bringing over? What kind of person does he really take me for?

He blinks at me and his face screws up like he’s reading my mind. “I mean, like, if you ever want any friends to stay, or family, or you want to host any parties, anything you want. There’s loads of room here, and I don’t use a whole lot of it. This house is yours as much as it is mine.”

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