By His Vow: A Billionaire Arranged Marriage Romance

By the time I got home last night, Tatum was already asleep.

After seeing the state she’d left my kitchen in—on purpose, of course—I almost woke her, dragged her out there and demanded she cleaned up her shit.

But then I remembered what Miles said to me after she stormed out of our meeting earlier.

‘I know it’s not in your nature, but be nice to her. She might be putting on a brave face, but she’s struggling.”Content provided by NôvelDrama.Org.

It was those words, and those words only, that made me walk into the guest room and gently sit on the edge of the bed beside her.

It took more restraint than I’m willing to even think about to only reach out and tuck a lock of hair behind her ear.

What I really wanted to do was brush my fingertips over her cheek to find out if her skin was as soft as it looked and then drag the sheets from her body to see what she was wearing beneath.

I know what Miles said was true. I know she needs me to be gentle with her despite how she acts. It’s a front, a facade to make it look like she’s coping.

She is not coping.

Since the moment Miles said those words to me yesterday, I regretted how I spoke to her in front of Kian and Liam. But I saw red when she accused me of controlling her life. I was trying to do something nice…

I pause before reaching for the door handle.

She’s inside and hopefully ready for the night ahead.

Despite my suspicions that she’d turn everyone away, I’ve had confirmation from each of her appointments that they went smoothly.

That means she should be ready.

I’m late. I hoped I wouldn’t be, but my last meeting of the day ran over, so now I’m left with only twenty minutes before we need to leave for the gala.

Rolling my shoulders, I attempt to brace myself for what I’m about to be faced with.

As well as missing her last night, she also didn’t emerge from the guest room before I left this morning.

She’s giving me the cold shoulder, and I don’t fucking like it.

The second I step into my apartment, her sweet scent assaults me. It makes my mouth water.

“Honey, I’m home,” I shout, shaking my head as I say those unbelievable words. I never wanted a serious relationship like this. I knew that, ultimately, I’d have to settle down eventually. Callahan Enterprises will need a next generation at some point. But I was nowhere near ready for that shit.

But right now, I can’t deny that something feels very, very right about coming home to Tatum, even if there’s a very high chance that something unbelievably hard and painful might just come flying toward my head.

I’ve no idea why the thought of her being so violent brings a smile to my face, but as I walk down the hallway in search of her, I can’t fight it.

That is, until I see her standing at the windows, looking out over the city wrapped in a stunning, fitted gold dress.

“Oh shit.” I gasp, my eyes tracing the lines of her body, my cock swelling in an instant.

She stills but otherwise doesn’t react to my presence.

“You’ve got fifteen minutes,” she says coldly, refusing to face me.

“That’s ten more than I need. Turn around,” I demand.

She doesn’t move.

“Look,” I say softly, knowing that I need to be the bigger man here, “I’m sorry, okay? I thought I was doing something nice by arranging today. I knew you didn’t want to come, so I thought the least I could do was⁠—”

“Thank you,” she says, interrupting my apology. When I look up, my eyes collide with the reflection of hers in the window and my breath catches.

I’ve no idea what this…this thing is between us, but it’s potent, powerful, and it doesn’t seem to be diminishing.

“I appreciate what you’ve done. I just wish you didn’t spring it on me like you did. If you’d have just told me instead of blindsiding me with it⁠—”

“You wouldn’t have agreed,” I point out confidently.

She chuckles. “Probably not, no,” she concedes.

“Can you turn around? Please,” I ask again.

“Go and get ready, Kingston. You don’t want to be late for your big night.”

Relenting, I spin on my heel and march toward the stairs.

I know the second she turns to look at me—my skin burns beneath my suit—but I don’t turn around.

She wants me to wait, and I will respect that. It’ll only be for five minutes, after all.

I strip off my clothes and throw myself into the shower, and in only minutes, I’m out again and pulling my dinner suit on.

Something flutters in my stomach as I march toward the doorway five minutes before Lewis expects us for the journey to the hotel where tonight’s event is taking place.

As I descend the stairs, I find her in exactly the same position she was standing in when I left; only this time, when she hears my footsteps, she spins around.

My eyes widen and my chin drops as I take in the true beauty of the woman before me.

Her hair is pinned up in an intricate updo and her makeup is light but flawless, accentuating her large eyes, high cheekbones and full lips. It almost makes her slender neck look longer than I’m sure it is as my eyes drop to the plunging neckline of her dress.

It’s…fuck. Sinful.

“Kingston,” she teases. “You’re drooling.”

Without thinking, I lift my hand to my mouth.

She smirks before her laughter fills the room.

“You look amazing, baby,” I say, as I drop down the final step and approach her.

As I study her, I almost blurt out my plans for the weekend. She’s just chastised me over not telling her what I’m scheming up, but despite knowing that this is the most perfect opportunity, the words refuse to leave my mouth.

“Are you ready?”

Her eyes narrow and she studies me for a beat. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she’s nervous.

“Y-yeah,” she stutters, confirming my suspicion.

She reaches for her purse and tucks it under her arm before turning toward the front door.

“Tonight is just a formality, you know that right? Nothing will be expected of you,” I say when I catch up to her.

“I know. I’m just not feeling very…peopley.”

“Just a few hours then the only person you have to deal with is me.”

“Is that meant to make me feel better?”

I laugh. What else can I do?

With my hand pressed against the small of her back, I guide her into the elevator.

But instead of standing side by side like we have on every other journey up here so far, I turn into her body and back her up against the wall.

“King.” She gasps, her hands wrapping around the railing to steady herself.

“Did I already tell you how beautiful you look tonight?” I whisper, letting my lips brush her cheek as I move toward her ear.

“N-no.”

“Well, you do. You’re easily going to be the most stunning woman in the room tonight.”

“You’re lying.”

Pulling back, I look her dead in the eyes.

“I’m not,” I state. “Every single man in that place is going to wish they were me.”

“Not as much as the women are going to wish they were me,” she counters.

“Is that your way of telling me that you think I look good too?”

She scoffs. “You know you do.”

“Maybe I just want to hear you say it,” I muse, my eyes dropping to her glossy lips, trying to imagine how they’d feel pressed against mine.

I don’t make a move to find out, but I do step closer and press my hips to hers.

Her breath catches at our contact and her pupils dilate.

“King,” she warns, her eyes dropping to my lips as if she’s having the same thought.

“Yes, baby.” I smirk.

“You—” The elevator dings and the doors open behind me. But I don’t move. Not until she finishes whatever it is she wants to say. I raise a brow for her to continue. “You’ve looked worse.”

Her lips twitch, threatening a smile, as the air between us crackles loudly.

“I’ll see what I can do to improve further,” I say before taking a step back, but not before I snag her and tug her with me.

She shrieks as she fights not to stumble in her shoes while keeping up with me.

Lewis is already waiting for us next to a limousine when we emerge in the underground garage. His eyes barely glance in my direction; instead, he focuses on Tatum. I understand why, but that doesn’t stop something ugly from unfurling inside me.

“Wow, Tate, you look–”

“Focus on your job, Lewis,” I bark, making him blush.

“Yes, sir,” he says before pulling the back door open for Tatum to slide inside.

My eyes hold his for a beat, but when he smiles at me, I can’t help but return it.

Lewis isn’t a threat. Not only is he too old for Tatum—I hope—but he’s as trustworthy as they come.

The journey to the event is short and charged with sexual tension. We sit side by side and my hand rests high on her thigh the whole way.

The temptation to put the divider up and turn my full attention on her is almost too much to deny. But there’s something that stops me. I tell myself it’s that she doesn’t want to be ruffled when we emerge in front of a mass of photographers, but deep down, I think it might be the fear of being rejected.

The feeling is alien. I’m pretty sure it’s not something I’ve ever really felt before, and I don’t fucking like it.

I have never second-guessed my actions before. If I want something, I fuck the consequences and take it.

But there is something different with Tatum tonight.

Maybe it’s just the pressure of our first official public appearance as a couple. Or maybe it has something to do with her silent treatment and the pressure I’m putting on myself.

Or more likely, it has something to do with the impending question I need to ask her.

There is no reason to be apprehensive about it; I already know her answer, but for some weird reason, I want to get it right.

Sure, this whole thing is one big fabrication, but still, she deserves for it to be memorable. We’re both going to have a lot of life to live after this bizarre year, and there’s a part of me that wants her to remember our time together fondly. I also want her future husband to have a lot to live up to, because I’m nothing if not competitive.

We’re only a few minutes out when she turns to me. She doesn’t say anything for a few seconds. Instead, she silently studies me with a small frown between her brows.

“Are you okay?” she asks, her eyes bouncing between mine.

“Yeah, why?”

“You seem…nervous?”

I laugh it off. “Nope. Just ready for this night to be over so we can be alone, now that you’re talking to me.”

“We’ve got a few hours yet. There’s every chance you could fuck it up again,” she muses.

“You don’t think very highly of me, do you?”

She smiles. “There are plenty of things I know you’re good at, Kingston. A serious relationship isn’t one of them.”

“Says the expert,” I mutter. “How many have you been in exactly?” If I didn’t already know the answer, then her tight expression would tell me. “Admit it, neither of us knows what we’re doing right now.”

The car comes to a stop, but we don’t look away from each other.

“Never has a truer word been spoken. Are you ready for your big night, hotshot?”

“Always. Ready to show the world that you’re my girl?”

“Not even close,” she answers honestly.

The door opens beside me and the noise from outside breaks through the tension.

I squeeze her thigh in support before sliding from the seat and stepping out.

Cameras flash around me, but it only gets worse when I lean into the car and help her out.

Our names are called as we move toward the entrance with my arm locked around her waist. We turn this way and that, giving the media—and her late father—exactly what they want.