All Chapters of The Billionaire Bride of Convenience : Chapter 1 - Chapter 5

“You’ve got this all wrong, Cath,” Alex’s voice rang out, sharp and defensive, as he yanked his arm free of Jemma’s delicate grasp. “It’s not what it looks like.”Cath gazed at the scene before her — Alex, her life partner, standing excessively near Jemma, her sister. Jemma's lips nestled into a sneer, an articulation so weak it might have been confused with responsibility by any individual who didn't have a clue about her.Her throat consumed. "Then, at that point, *what* does it seem to be, Alex? Since from where I'm standing, it looks a ton like selling out."Jemma shifted her head, her long light hair flowing behind her in a rehearsed move. "Cath, dear," she said, her voice trickling with pretended guiltlessness, "you're blowing up. Alex and I were simply — ""Spare me," Cath cut her off, her voice breaking. "I saw enough. You don't get to bend this."The load in the room squeezed against her chest as she ventured back, shaking her head in dismay. How had it worked out like this?

"Is this how you usually make decisions? By dragging people into rooms they don’t want to be in?”The man sitting opposite me didn't turn upward. He was too caught up with whirling the bourbon in his glass, his long fingers wrapped firmly around maybe it was the main thing tying him to the occasion."I didn't request this anything else than you," he said at last, his voice low and cut.I gripped my clenched hands under the cleaned oak table, compelling myself to keep my appearance nonpartisan.The pressure all around was choking, thick with implicit feelings of disdain and assumptions.The confidential room in the upscale lodging was faintly lit, the main sound coming from the weak murmur of a crystal fixture above.Mike Rowling was nothing similar to what I'd anticipated. He was sharp-highlighted, his dim hair cleared back with the accuracy of somebody who couldn't stand remaining details.His custom-fitted suit shouted riches and authority, however, his stance was easygoing, practic

“This place is too quiet,” I muttered, my voice barely carrying across the cavernous hallway.Mike didn’t bother turning around. He was halfway up the grand staircase, his steps echoing in the emptiness, his posture rigid and unwelcoming.The ornate chandelier overhead cast a cold, sterile glow on the polished marble floors and towering walls lined with art too abstract to appreciate."It's anything but a jungle gym," he answered briefly. "You'll become accustomed to it."I shuddered at his tone, looking as he vanished into the upper floor without even a retrogressive look. The quiet surrounded me once more, weighty and choking.The head servant, a more seasoned man with silver hair and an articulation as indistinguishable as Mike's made a sound as if to speak."Will I show you to your room, Mrs. Rowling?"The title ground on my nerves, yet I gestured, grasping the handle of my bag. "Lead the way."He moved with rehearsed accuracy, his cleaned shoes tapping softly against the floor as