By His Vow: A Billionaire Arranged Marriage Romance

I sit staring at the images on the screen before me, but I don’t see any of them.

I know Dad is there, and Kian, but I don’t dare look directly at them. They’ll see everything I don’t want them to. It’s too late for Kian—he saw it all this morning. He can still probably smell the scent of coffee to remind him that he needs to keep his mouth shut in the future.

But I can’t let Dad see. I can’t allow him to know that I’m crumbling because of a woman.

Their voices float around me, a blur of different accents from both across the states and the world. But I don’t know what they’re talking about. I managed to focus for about twenty minutes, but it’s been the better part of an hour since then and they’re still making plans and looking toward the future.

It’s a weird dynamic, being a part of one company that’s desperately trying to survive while another flourishes.

We’ve got resorts in all stages of building and renovations across the globe, and we’re making new acquisitions all the time. It’s certainly a change of pace being back here after focusing my efforts on Warner Group.

All I can hope is that in the not-too-distant future, Warner Group conference calls sound a little more like this one. Or at least what I assume this once sounds like, seeing as I’ve fully checked out.

We’re not always going to be making hard decisions and laying people off. Get over this hump and I’ve got every confidence that we’ll be growing faster than we can cope with, expanding our team and hopefully our profits right alongside it.

My vision is clear, so is Miles’s, but while we might have a lot of work ahead of us to achieve our goals, there is one very obvious thing missing. Or should I say one person?

I shake my head, trying to clear images of her sitting in an office on the top floor of the Warner Group in her sexy pencil skirts and teasing blouses.

Fuck. We could have some fun up there with the windows darkened and⁠—

“Kingston. Have we lost you?” Dad says, his voice as hard and as unforgiving as it always is in meetings.

Dragging myself from the haze of my imagination, I make the fatal mistake of looking at him.

His head might only be an inch or so big on my screen, but it’s enough to see the shock on his face when he finally gets a proper look at me.

Fuck.

All the air comes rushing out of my lungs and I deflate in my seat.

I feel like a little boy who’s just been caught snooping around in his office when I’ve been clearly told to stay the fuck away and to mind my own business.

“Sorry, what were you saying?” I ask, praying my voice sounds less broken than I feel.

“We need an update on your project.”

My heart sinks. I’ve got numerous emails sitting in my inbox with questions and queries about the renovation at the retreat, but the subject line alone stopped me from opening them.

How can I when all I see when I think about that place is her?

“Everything is on track,” I lie, hopefully confidently.

“Everything?” Dad asks as if he knows differently—which he shouldn’t, because he’s refused to get involved with it. He’s sticking to his guns about it being a bad decision, and honestly, I’m glad because it gives me free rein, and when I’m proved right, it’ll feel so fucking good.

“Yes. I have a few minor things outstanding but we’re hitting deadlines, and progress is good.”

Thankfully, the conversation moves on to something else, something that captures Dad’s attention more than my retreat, and I’m able to let my mind drift again.

I hate it. I hate not being focused and fully involved in my job, but there isn’t anything I can do about it.

A knock on my door drags me from my thoughts once more, and when I spin around to look, I find Melissa poking her head into the room with an apologetic expression on her face.

‘I’m sorry,’ she mouths before holding out a manilla envelope.

Pushing from my chair, I reach for it and turn it over.Exclusive © content by N(ô)ve/l/Drama.Org.

“Thank you,” I say quietly before looking down at my name and address written in beautiful script.

I’m about to throw it onto my desk and return to pretending that I’m listening, but something makes me second-guess that decision.

So, with everyone still chatting on my screen, I tuck my finger under the flap and pry it open.

It takes me a second to register the logo on the paper I pull out, but the second reality hits, the entire world falls from beneath me.

I drop the envelope on the desk and push to my feet, moving away from it as if it physically burned me.

“Kingston? Is everything okay?” Dad asks, although he sounds like he’s in a tunnel and getting farther away with every word.

The room spins as I stare down at the paperwork.

She’s…

She’s divorcing me.

My heart races as disbelief floods through my system.

She was meant to be having some time, some space to figure everything out.

She’s not meant to be serving me fucking divorce papers.

“Kingston?”

I’m unaware of each of the screens going black. I don’t even register that my knees buckle and I fall back into my chair.

She’s divorcing me.

That means…she’s sacrificing everything.

I’ve no idea how much time passes as I sit there staring at the paperwork. It could be mere seconds, or it could be hours.

My office door opening barely cracks through my daze, and a large hand landing on my shoulder scares the living shit out of me.

“Fuck. Dad,” I gasp, turning to find his assessing eyes focused harshly on me. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“Hmm,” he rumbles, ripping his eyes from mine and glancing at the paperwork on my desk.

He doesn’t react to it, not that I expected him to. He’s got what he wanted out of this arrangement. The only person who is losing anything here is Tatum.

If I sign this, then everything she’s ever wanted is going to be taken away from her.

She’s going to be taken away from me.

I suck in a ragged breath, unable to properly process what all this means.

Tatum isn’t the only one losing here. I feel like everything I’ve ever cared about is slipping through my fingers like grains of sand.

I watch as he walks around my desk and lowers himself into the same chair that Kian was sitting in earlier. And then he just watches me. I’m not saying a word, but I’m pretty sure he can read my thoughts well enough to know exactly what’s going on.

“I’m not the enemy here, Kingston. You can talk to me about this.”

Can I?

Isn’t he just going to tell me that I’m better off without her, that I’ve been stupid to let her in and give her even a chance at being able to break my heart?

“Dad, I⁠—”

“Love her,” he finishes for me.

“Fuck, that’s not⁠—”

“Kingston, lying to yourself isn’t going to help right now,” he warns, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees, his eyes focused on mine.

I slump lower.

“This wasn’t how all of this was meant to go,” I mutter as I scrub my hand over my rough jaw.

“No,” Dad agrees helpfully. “But sometimes, you’ve just got to embrace these things.”

My brows pinch together in a mix of confusion and shock.

“What?”

He smiles at me and shakes his head.

“Why aren’t you telling me that I fucked up? That I did exactly what I shouldn’t have done and lost focus on business because of it?”

He shrugs one shoulder but doesn’t say anything for long seconds, which only makes my head spin faster.

“King,” he finally says before gritting his teeth and lowering his gaze for a beat, composing himself. “I know I haven’t exactly been the best role model when it comes to women and relationships, but⁠—”

I scoff, thinking of the many, many women who have come in and out of our lives over the years.

“And I know I’ve told you that you shouldn’t fall in love, that it only ends in pain but⁠—”

“But?” I balk, laughing, although it’s edged with bitterness. All our lives he’s been adamant that we never fall in love.

“King, I loved your mother,” he says, his eyes getting glassy as he thinks of her. “I loved her so much. I’m not saying that I was the perfect husband. I’m aware that I was far from that. But what she did, fuck. It still hurts to this day.

“But if I’m being honest, even if I knew how it was all going to end, I wouldn’t have had it any other way. My years with her, you three…I could never, ever regret that.”

“But you⁠—”

“I know, King. I know. But you and Tatum.” He sighs, shaking his head. “The way you look at her. It’s so fucking familiar it hurts, King.

“But what kind of father would I be if I tried to convince you to walk away from something that puts that look in your eyes?”

A lump crawls up my throat. I try to swallow it down, but I stand no chance.

I’ve never had this kind of conversation with my father before. I’m not sure how to take it.

“Tatum’s a good girl, King. You could do a hell of a lot worse than her.”

My mouth opens and closes as I try to come up with some kind of answer.

“She wants a divorce,” I blurt, my mouth saying the words before my head realizes I’ve made a decision.

“And are you going to give it to her?” he asks simply, raising a brow in question. “Or are you going to fight for what you really want?”