Accidentally Married to the Billionaire

The pounding in my head feels like someone is using my skull as a drum set. I squeeze my eyes shut tighter, hoping the pain will disappear, but it only gets worse. The sunlight streaming through what should be my cheap apartment blinds is way too bright and coming from the wrong direction.

Wait. My apartment doesn't get morning sun.

I force one eye open and immediately regret it. This isn't my tiny studio with the broken air conditioner and the neighbor who plays music too loud. This is... expensive. Really expensive. The ceiling above me is at least twelve feet high with fancy molding that probably costs more than my rent. The sheets beneath me feel like silk, and they smell like money and some kind of masculine cologne that makes my stomach flutter in a way that has nothing to do with my hangover.

"What the hell?" I whisper, my voice cracking like I haven't used it in days.

I sit up slowly, and the room spins like I'm on a carnival ride. The headache gets worse, but I can see more now. Floor-to-ceiling windows show a view of the Las Vegas Strip that you definitely can't get from a regular hotel room. This is a penthouse suite. The kind of place I've only seen in movies.

My clothes from last night are scattered across the marble floor like someone threw them there in a hurry. My cheap black dress that I bought on sale at Target, my discount store heels that gave me blisters, my purse that's seen better days. They look even more out of place in this fancy room than I feel.

But it's what's on my left hand that makes me stop breathing.

A wedding ring.

Not just any wedding ring. This thing is huge. The diamond catches the morning light and throws rainbows across the silk sheets. It's the kind of ring that belongs in a jewelry store window with a security guard standing next to it.

"No, no, no, no, no." I shake my hand like that will make the ring disappear. It doesn't budge. "This isn't real. This can't be real."

I look around desperately for some clue about what happened. There's a champagne bottle on the nightstand, empty. Two glasses, both with lipstick stains. A receipt from something called the Chapel of Eternal Love with yesterday's date.

Yesterday. What happened yesterday?

I remember going to that conference for recent graduates. I remember feeling like a fraud in my cheap interview outfit while everyone else looked like they belonged in the business world. I remember the networking mixer where I nursed one drink all night because I couldn't afford more. I remember the guy next to me at the bar ordering top-shelf whiskey like it was water.

The guy with the intense blue eyes and the expensive suit who looked at me like I was the only person in the room. The one who bought me a drink when he saw me counting quarters. The one who made me laugh for the first time in months.

Oh God. Where is he?

I scramble out of bed, clutching the sheet around me like armor. The bathroom door is closed, and I can hear water running. Someone is in there. Someone is in the shower, and based on the deep humming coming through the door, it's definitely a man.

My heart pounds so hard I'm surprised it doesn't wake up the entire hotel. I need to get out of here. I need to leave before whoever is in that bathroom comes out and I have to face what I've done. I start grabbing my clothes, shoving them on as fast as my shaking hands will let me.

But as I'm pulling on my dress, I catch sight of myself in the massive mirror across from the bed. My hair looks like I stuck my finger in an electrical socket. My makeup is smeared all over my face. And that ring... it's so big I can barely make a fist.

The shower turns off.

I freeze like a deer in headlights. The humming stops. I hear footsteps on marble, and I know I have about thirty seconds before my mystery husband walks out of that bathroom and my life gets even more complicated than it already is.

I grab my purse and run for the door, my heels clicking on the marble floor like tiny hammers. My hands shake so badly I can barely work the electronic lock. Come on, come on, come on.

The bathroom door opens behind me.

"Going somewhere, wife?"

The voice is deep, rough with sleep, and holds just a hint of amusement. It's also the same voice that whispered sweet things in my ear last night. The same voice that made me feel beautiful and wanted for the first time in my twenty-four years.

I turn around slowly, and my breath catches in my throat.

He's standing in the bathroom doorway with a white towel wrapped around his waist and nothing else. Water droplets roll down his chest like they're taking their time to explore every muscle. His dark hair is wet and messy, and those blue eyes that I remember are focused on me with an intensity that makes my knees weak.

But it's not just that he's gorgeous in a way that should be illegal. It's that he's looking at me like he knows exactly who I am. Like he remembers everything about last night while I can barely remember my own name.

"I..." I start to say something, anything, but words fail me.

He crosses his arms over his chest, and I can see a tattoo on his left shoulder that I definitely don't remember from last night. "Avery Sage, right? Or should I say, Avery Knight?"

Knight. My married name is Knight.

"How do you know my..." I start to ask, then realize how stupid that sounds. "I mean, I don't..."

"Remember?" He walks toward me, and I notice he moves like a predator. Confident. Controlled. Dangerous. "That makes two of us. But apparently, we got married last night. And according to the paperwork on the table, it's completely legal."

I look where he's pointing and see papers spread across the fancy dining table. Official-looking papers with seals and signatures that make my stomach drop to my toes.

"This can't be happening," I whisper.

"Oh, it's happening." He stops a few feet away from me, close enough that I can smell his soap and see the water still clinging to his skin. "The question is, what are we going to do about it?"

I stare at him, this stranger who is somehow my husband, and realize that my life just went from complicated to completely insane. But there's something in his eyes, something that tells me this isn't just a simple mistake that can be fixed with a quick annulment.

There's something he's not telling me.

"Who are you?" I ask, though part of me is terrified of the answer.

He extends his hand like we're meeting for the first time. "Rowen Knight. And as of last night, I'm your husband."

The way he says his name, like it should mean something to me, sends a chill down my spine. But it's the look in his eyes that really scares me. It's the look of a man who always gets what he wants.

And apparently, what he wants right now is me.

I watch her face go three different shades of pale when I say my name. Good. At least one of us recognizes the gravity of this situation.

Avery Sage - now Avery Knight - stares at me like I just told her she married the devil himself. Maybe she's not wrong. The business world certainly thinks so. But right now, with her auburn hair a mess and her green eyes wide with panic, she looks nothing like the confident woman who challenged me to a drinking contest last night.

She looks terrified.

"Rowen Knight," she repeats slowly, like she's testing how the words taste. "Should I know that name?"

I almost laugh. In my world, everyone knows my name. Knight Industries is worth twelve billion dollars. My face has been on the cover of Forbes three times. I've been called the most ruthless CEO under thirty-five by Business Week. But this woman, my accidental wife, has no idea who she just married.

It's refreshing. And terrifying.

"You will," I say, keeping my voice neutral. I've learned that people reveal more when they think you're not paying attention. "But first, we need to figure out exactly what happened last night."

She clutches her purse against her chest like it's armor. "I need to leave. I need to go home and pretend this never happened."

"That's not an option."

The words come out harder than I intended, and she flinches. I'm used to people jumping when I speak, but for some reason, her reaction bothers me. I force my voice to soften.

"Look, I know this is overwhelming. Trust me, waking up married wasn't on my agenda either. But we're legally bound now, and that creates complications."

"What kind of complications?" she asks, though I can tell she doesn't really want to know.

I gesture toward the papers on the table. "The kind that require lawyers and time and very careful handling. The kind that could destroy both our lives if we're not smart about this."

She moves toward the table like she's approaching a snake. Her hands shake as she picks up the marriage certificate. I watch her read it twice, her lips moving silently as she processes the information.

"This says we got married at 2:47 AM," she whispers. "I don't remember any of this."

"Neither do I. But I remember pieces." I remember her laugh when I told her my worst business deal. I remember the way she argued with me about economics over our fifth round of drinks. I remember thinking she was the first person in years who talked to me like I was human instead of a bank account. "Do you remember the bar?"

"Vaguely." She sets the certificate down like it might bite her. "You were there for the conference too?"

"No. I was there for meetings. I saw you at the networking event looking like you wanted to disappear, and something about that felt familiar."

She looks up at me, and for a second, I see a flash of the woman from last night. The one who called me out for trying to impress her with expensive whiskey. The one who made me laugh until my sides hurt.

"You bought me a drink," she says softly.

"Several drinks, apparently."

"And then we..."

"Got spectacularly drunk and made a decision that's going to change both our lives."

She sinks into one of the dining chairs, still clutching that cheap purse. Everything about her screams that she doesn't belong in this world. The discount store clothes, the nervous way she keeps looking around like someone might catch her here, the fact that she's more concerned about running away than about what this marriage might mean.

But there's something else. Something in the way she holds herself, like she's used to fighting for everything she has. I recognize that look because I used to see it in my own mirror.

"I can't be married," she says, more to herself than to me. "I can't afford to be married. I can barely afford to feed myself."

"Money isn't the issue here."

She laughs, but there's no humor in it. "Easy for you to say. You're staying in a penthouse suite that probably costs more per night than I make in a month."

She's not wrong. This suite costs fifteen thousand a night. I don't tell her that.

"Avery." I sit down across from her, trying to look less intimidating. It's not a skill I've had to practice much. "I need you to listen to me very carefully. This marriage, as accidental as it was, has created a situation that we both need to handle delicately."

"What kind of situation?"

I study her face, trying to figure out how much I should tell her. She seems genuine, but I've been burned by people who seemed trustworthy before. The problem is, I don't have a choice. I need her cooperation, and that means she needs to understand what we're dealing with.

"There are people who would use this against me. Against us. The fact that I'm married to someone they don't know, someone who isn't from their world, could be seen as a weakness."

"Or a scandal," she says quietly.

Smart girl. "Exactly."

"So what are you saying? That we need to get this annulled quickly and quietly?"

I wish it were that simple. But three hours ago, while she was sleeping off her hangover, I got a phone call that changed everything. A phone call from someone who's been waiting years for me to make a mistake this big.

"It's not that simple." I reach for my phone on the table. "I got a call this morning. From a business rival who somehow already knows about our marriage. He's threatening to make this public unless..."

"Unless what?"

I meet her eyes, and I can see the exact moment she realizes that her simple life just became anything but simple.

"Unless we stay married. For six months. And make it look real."

The color drains from her face completely. "You're joking."

"I never joke about business. And this, whether we like it or not, is now business."

She stands up so fast her chair almost falls over. "No. Absolutely not. I won't be part of some weird billionaire game. I don't care how much money you have or how powerful you think you are."

"Twelve billion."

"What?"

"You asked how much money I have. It's twelve billion. And the man who called me this morning wants to destroy everything I've built. If he goes public with this marriage and then reveals that we got it annulled immediately, it makes me look reckless and impulsive. It gives him ammunition to convince my board that I'm not fit to run my own company."

She stares at me for a long moment. "And if we don't get it annulled?"

"Then we control the narrative. We make it look like a whirlwind romance instead of a drunken mistake. We give him nothing to use against me."

"For six months."

"For six months."

"And then?"

"Then we quietly divorce, you get enough money to start whatever life you want, and I keep my company."

She's quiet for so long I wonder if she's going to bolt for the door again. When she finally speaks, her voice is barely a whisper.

"What makes you think I'll agree to this?"

I lean back in my chair and give her the look that's closed more deals than I can count. "Because you're about to ask me how much money we're talking about."

Her cheeks flush red, but she doesn't deny it.

"How much money are we talking about?"

I smile for the first time since I woke up. Maybe this marriage won't be the disaster I thought it was.

"Enough to change your life forever. But first, you need to know something about the man who's threatening us."

"What about him?"

"His name is Maverick Black. And twenty-four hours ago, he didn't know you existed. Now he's had you investigated, he knows about your college debt, your job situation, and probably what you had for breakfast last Tuesday."

The blood drains from her face again. "How is that possible?"

"Because he's dangerous, he has unlimited resources, and he's been waiting for me to make a mistake this big for over a decade." I stand up and move toward the window, looking out at the city below. "The question is, are you brave enough to help me beat him at his own game?"

When I turn around, she's looking at me with a mixture of fear and something that might be determination.

"What exactly would I have to do?"

And there it is. The question that's going to change both our lives forever.

The question hangs in the air between us like a loaded gun. What exactly would I have to do? Part of me doesn't want to know the answer, but the bigger part of me - the part that's been scraping by on ramen noodles and hope for the past six months - needs to hear it.

"You'd have to become my wife," Rowen says simply. "In every way that matters to the outside world."

My heart does this weird jumping thing in my chest. "What does that mean exactly?"

He moves away from the window and sits back down across from me. Even with just a towel wrapped around his waist, he looks like he owns the world. Maybe he does.

"It means you'd move into my penthouse in Manhattan. It means you'd attend business dinners and charity events as my wife. It means we'd need to convince everyone who matters that we're madly in love."

"Fake it, you mean."

"Fake it," he confirms. "Can you do that?"

I think about my empty bank account. I think about the rejection letters piling up on my desk. I think about my landlord who's been very understanding about late rent but won't be forever. I think about the student loan payments that keep me awake at night.

"How much money are we talking about?" I ask again.

"Two million dollars."

I stop breathing. Actually stop breathing. Two million dollars is more money than I could make in twenty years at the kind of jobs I've been applying for. Two million dollars would pay off my student loans, help me start a real life, maybe even let me help other kids who grew up in foster care like I did.

"Two million," I repeat, just to make sure I heard him right.

"Plus living expenses while we're married. Clothes, food, anything you need to play the part convincingly."

I stare at him, trying to figure out if this is some kind of elaborate joke. "Why would you pay me that much money?"

"Because my company is worth twelve billion dollars. Two million is nothing compared to what I'll lose if Maverick Black destroys me."

"And you think this will work? Pretending to be married?"

"I think it's our best shot." He leans forward, and those intense blue eyes lock onto mine. "But it has to be convincing, Avery. We can't just go through the motions. People in my world are experts at spotting fake relationships. They'll be watching us constantly, looking for any sign that this isn't real."

The way he says my name makes something flutter in my stomach. Focus, Avery. This is business.

"What if I can't do it? What if I'm not convincing enough?"

"Then we're both screwed." He says it so matter-of-factly that I almost laugh. "But I don't think that's going to be a problem."

"Why not?"

"Because you're already wearing my ring."

I look down at the massive diamond on my finger. I'd almost forgotten it was there. "This doesn't mean anything. We were drunk."

"Maybe. But you haven't tried to take it off."

He's right. I haven't. Every time I've looked at it, I've thought about removing it, but I haven't actually tried. Maybe because deep down, I'm terrified of what happens when I do. Maybe because for the first time in my life, I'm wearing something that makes me feel like I matter.

"I don't know anything about your world," I say quietly. "I've never been to a charity gala. I don't know how to talk to billionaires. I'll embarrass you."

"You won't."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because last night, you spent three hours arguing with me about economic policy and made me see things I'd never considered before. You're smart, Avery. Smarter than most of the people in my world. You just need the right clothes and a little confidence."

I want to believe him. I want to believe that I could fit into his world, even temporarily. But I've spent my whole life being reminded that I don't belong anywhere.

"What about my life? My apartment, my job search, my friends?"

"What about them?"

The question stings because the truth is, there isn't much to leave behind. My apartment is a dump. My job search has been a disaster. And my friends... well, Brynn is really the only one who matters, and she'd probably understand.

"I need to think about this," I say.

"You have until tomorrow morning."

"That's not enough time."

"It's all the time we have. Maverick is expecting an answer, and the longer we wait, the more suspicious he becomes."

I stand up and pace toward the window. The Las Vegas Strip stretches out below us, all bright lights and broken dreams. Kind of like my life right now.

"This is insane," I say to the glass.

"Yes, it is."

"I could be making the biggest mistake of my life."

"Or the smartest decision you've ever made."

I turn around to face him. "What if we actually start to care about each other? What if six months of pretending turns into something real?"

Something flickers in his eyes, but it's gone so fast I might have imagined it. "That won't happen."

"How can you be sure?"

"Because I don't do real relationships, Avery. I do business deals. And that's all this is."

The way he says it, so cold and certain, should make me feel better. Instead, it stings. Which is ridiculous because I just met this man twelve hours ago.

"So I'd just be an employee," I say.

"A very well-paid employee."

"And at the end of six months, we just walk away from each other."

"Clean break. No strings attached."

I study his face, looking for any sign that he's lying or uncertain. But Rowen Knight looks like a man who's never had a moment of doubt in his life.

"I need to call my best friend," I say finally.

"No."

The word comes out sharp and final. "What do you mean, no?"

"I mean you can't tell anyone about this arrangement. As far as the world is concerned, we're madly in love. That includes your best friend."

"I'm not lying to Brynn."

"Then you're not getting two million dollars."

We stare at each other across the room. This is the first real test, I realize. He's seeing if I'm willing to make the sacrifices this arrangement requires.

"She'll know something is wrong if I just disappear into your world without explanation."

"Then tell her we fell in love fast. Tell her it's a whirlwind romance. But you cannot tell her this is fake."

"She won't believe me."

"Make her believe you."

The hardest part is that he's right. If I want this to work, I have to commit completely. No half measures. No safety nets.

"If I do this," I say slowly, "I want some ground rules."

"Such as?"

"No touching unless absolutely necessary for appearances. No sleeping in the same bed. And if at any point I want out, I can leave."

"Agreed. Anything else?"

"I want to meet this Maverick Black. I want to know exactly what kind of enemy we're dealing with."

For the first time since I woke up, Rowen looks surprised. "Why?"

"Because if I'm going to pretend to be your wife, I need to understand the game we're playing. And I need to know what happens if we lose."

He stares at me for a long moment, and I can practically see him reassessing me. Good. Let him know I'm not just some broke college graduate he can push around.

"Maverick Black is dangerous, Avery. He's spent the last ten years trying to destroy me, and he's gotten close several times. Are you sure you want to put yourself in his crosshairs?"

"I'm already in his crosshairs. You said he's had me investigated."

"True."

"So when do I meet him?"

Rowen's phone buzzes on the table. He glances at it, and his expression goes dark.

"Sooner than I thought," he says, holding up the phone so I can see the screen.

It's a text message from a number I don't recognize: Dinner tonight. 8 PM. Bellagio. Bring your lovely wife. - M

My blood runs cold. "He knows we're still here."

"He knows everything." Rowen sets the phone down and looks at me with something that might be respect. "So, Mrs. Knight, are you ready to meet the man who wants to destroy your husband?"

The word 'husband' sends a shiver through me that has nothing to do with fear. But it's the look in Rowen's eyes that really scares me. For just a second, he looked at me like I was actually his wife.

Like he was actually worried about putting me in danger.