Mistakenly Married To My Billionaire Roommate

The moans and groans grow louder as I approach the door. I stand there for a second, wishing that my ears are deceiving me. They're not. Realty slaps me in the face as the door swings open. His head is between her thighs and her fingers tug at his dark brown hair like she's holding on for her dear life.

"What-the-fuck, Jason!" I exclaim and he raises his head slowly to find me. I should be looking away but strangely, I can't.

"Welcome back, little trouble" He says casually, like I didn't just notice an anatomical display on shared property.

"Not on the fucking kitchen counter" I groan "Don't you have any conscience?" My eyes dart between him, now on his feet, and the petite blonde. She scrambles off the marble, trying to gather her underwear like it could magically reattach herself if she finds it fast enough.

"Conscience? You weren't supposed to be home this early" he shrugs. I try not to stare too hard at his well-defined torso now soaked in sweat.

"I live here" I walk over to the fridge and grab some juice. "So you just stay home all day and...entertain?"

"It's not like I plan it" He runs his fingers in his raffled hair like he's posing for a camera only him can see. "It just happens''

Of course it does. Women just fall from the sky and land on MY kitchen counter at three in the fucking afternoon! The blonde finally gathers her dignity and her purse. She avoids eye contact as she slips past me.

"Sorry" She mutters and I nod stiffly.

The door closes almost immediately and I sigh.

Jason leans back against the counter like nothing in the universe is remotely wrong. He is too calm for my liking.

"You know, unless you want a threesome, you could knock next time" He says lazily.

I let out a short incredulous laugh.

"I could knock? On my own apartment?"

"Our apartment" He corrects and I scoff.

"You could at least warn me" I feel my chest tighten slightly as I walk in the direction of the sink to wash my hands aggressively. I can feel his eyes on me even with my back turned. His quiet, assessing gaze.

"Are you jealous, little trouble? He smirks as I turn to face him

Of course not. I just hate that I noticed his muscles flexed when he moved. I hate that he's attractive enough to get away with all this. Most of all, I hate that he knows he's attractive.

"Of what?" I chuckle

He pushes off the counter and steps closer.

"You look mad"

"I am mad" I raise my voice slightly as I turn away and walk towards my room.

"Why?" he presses, following closely behind me

Because you are reckless. Because you are infuriating. Because you make it hard to breathe when you stand too close.

"I like clean surfaces. I'll be disinfecting that counter myself." I reply flatly.

I drop my bag on my desk and make a mental note to call the agency. Maybe I could request a new roommate. One who absolutely doesn't turn shared spaces into adult cinema sets.

"You wish you were on that counter, little trouble" His voice disrupts my thoughts and I turn slowly.

"For what? So I could fake moans and orgasms? No thanks"

His eyebrows lift and that teasing look disappears. He narrows his eyes then walks towards the door. I hear the click of the lock echo in the room before he turns. He moves toward me slowly. His eyes are so focused on me that it's slightly intimidating. My feet retreat until my back hits the wall. Then, he presses his hand against the wall, beside my head to cage me in. He's too close. Way too close. I can feel the heat radiate from his tall, masculine body as he allows his eyes to pierce mine.

"Why don't we find out" he murmurs, voice low ''Just how fake those orgasms can be?"

I feel a flush of red spread across my cheeks. How dare he assume that I would want anything to do with him? The audacity!

The sound of my phone ringing brings me back to reality and I shove him hard in his rock-solid chest

"Get away from me, pervert"

"Diane?" A shaky voice responds on the other end makes my mind race at a million thoughts per second.

"Yes?'' I say hesitantly

"This is Joanne, Lucy's neighbour" My stomach instantly drops at the mention of my mother's name.

"Is¬¬ everything alright?"

"I don't want to scare you but..." The old woman pauses "Your mother's door is wide open"

"What?"

"I was watering my plants and noticed it. I thought your brother was home but I haven't seen him leave or come back. I knocked and there was no answer"

My pulse pounds in my ears. Where the hell is Darole?

"She's not supposed to be alone" I whisper. Jason's head lifts at my tone as he straightens. His playful expression disappears and is replaced by a concerned look

"Are you sure no one's inside?" I ask

"I saw two men earlier" She adds hesitantly. "They were standing by the house but I assumed they were officials or something. They left not long ago"

I suddenly feel cold spread through me.

"I'm on my way"'

I swear to God, if that drunk, gambler of a brother I have actually left our sick mother at home alone...

"What's going on?" Jason's voice cuts my thoughts as I raffle through my bag for my car keys

"It's none of your business" My voice comes out ruder than I expected

"I could drive you there" He says and my hands finally get hold of my keys

"No, thanks. Just don't bring anymore whores to my house"

...

As soon as the car comes to a halt, I see the door widely open. I rush down the hallway, my pulse pounding so violently it drowns everything else.

"Mom!" My voice cracks once I push the bedroom door open

I'm met with a sight I can never forget. Two men dressed in black stand on either side of her, masks covering their faces. One grips her arm and the other hovers too close. Mom looks confused. Not frightened like she should be. Her grey hair is dishevelled, her nightdress twisted at the hem. Her eyes lazily drift toward me as though I am a sound she can't quite place.

"MOM!" I rush forward "Who are you? Please let her go. She doesn't even know what's happening. She's sick."

"Who are you?" My mom's voice breaks my heart even more. "You're so loud"

I feel hot tears run down my cheeks and suddenly breathing feels too hard.

"It's Diane, mom. Look at me." I whisper desperately and she just looks away.

"Is it Darole? Does he owe you money? I'll pay now, just leave her" I turn to the men, my voice now trembling.

I search through my bag for my purse and just then I feel a sharp sting on my shoulder. The burning sensation spreads through my whole arm. My fingers fly to my shoulder but my muscles betray me. Opening my mouth to talk feels like a chore and my eyes blur as my legs turn into a pool of mashed potatoes. I feel my body collide with the cold floor. Darkness surrounds me.

The smell of polished wood fills my nose as my eyes flutter open. I find myself bound to a chair in a room I can't recognize. Heavy footsteps echo against the floor and the figure of a man comes to sight. Heavily built, easily 6'3 and with a cigarette between his fingers.

"Diane Carter" He says calmly, drawing closer to me.

"Why am I here? Where is my mother?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Your mother is safe and I'm not here to harm you. I'm here to deliver a message" He sits on the table across me.

"I told you I was going to pay anything Darole owes you. You..."

"Your father, Ryan Carter was framed for rape and murder fifteen years ago" His voice interrupts my speech. The room is filled with silence as I process the words that just came out of his mouth. It's been almost two decades since my dad was imprisoned. Since then, the name has not been spoken out loud. It'd become forbidden. Something that broke my mother piece by piece until dementia finished what grief started.

"What did you just say?" My voice cracks.

He walks towards a small bar cart, pours himself a bourbon and continues as if discussing the weather.

"Your mom needs the best medical care she can get to prevent her dementia from worsening. The best facilities and neurologists. You can't afford that. Not with a struggling journalism career and a brother who gambles every night"

"How do you know all of this?" I swallow hard. "Why are you telling me all of this?"

"That's a good question" He smirks. "You and I know that Ryan was innocent. But in a world where power and money rules, who is ready to believe the powerless? But help is here now"

A bitter laugh escapes me. "You kidnapped me, tied me to a chair, and you call that help?"

Men. They always find a way to twist your suffering into their own version of salvation. They convince you that the hurt they cause is somehow a sacrifice they're making for your own good. I know that trick too well. I spent three years of my life believing it, loving and defending it until I finally waked away from Liam six months ago.

"You weren't going to come with us willingly. Besides, Mr. Harrington gave orders"

"Mr. Harrington?"

" Christian Harrington. The only heir to the Harrington empire"

"This must be a joke" I blink at him.

Christian Harrington? The Christian Harrington? The invisible billionaire no one has actually seen? He rarely appears in public. No one even knows what he looks like. And out of over 300 million people in this country, I somehow ended up on the radar of the only heir to one of the five most powerful families in America?

" Here" He drops a brown envelope on my laps and orders one of the other men to untie me.

"This is an official contract from Mr. Harrington himself. He is proposing a five year contract marriage in exchange for your father's case to be reopened. Your mother will receive the best care in the world and you will never have to worry about money for the rest of your life, and generations to come."

My trembling hands open the envelope to reveal a dense contract. My eyes scan the document and my head spins.

"You don't have to decide today. He's giving you a week and whenever you're ready, you can send an email to the address in the contract to arrange for a meeting"

...

"What? You mean The Christian Harrington wants to marry you?" Carla shrieks so loudly the next two tables turn to stare.

"Shh," I hiss, glancing around the bar.

"Girl! I hope you've already signed the contract," Nancy says, eyes beaming with excitement.

"No, I haven't. I find it quite strange and honestly, it's a little hard to believe. But the document had an official stamp from the family," I sigh.

"You mean he had you kidnapped only to ask you to marry him? Well, Christian is quite romantic for a ghost heir," Scarlett giggles, and I shoot her a look.

"I fail to see how this counts as romantic, Scar. It's quite creepy, to say the least," Carla groans, taking a sip of her margarita.

"Come on, it is kind of romantic though. Like a movie-style possessive alpha male character. It's kinda hot," Scar defends, and I wriggle my nose in disagreement.

"I'm yet to fully understand that document. Too many clauses for a contract marriage. I could use your lawyer brain here, Nancy," I growl.

"Girl, say less. I'll meet you at yours tomorrow," Nancy beams, and I nod.

"Well, speaking of creepy, when last did you see Liam, Diane? Because I have this strange feeling he's stalking me. I was minutes away from reporting him to the police last week," Carla says, and my heart skips a beat. It's been six months since I ended that toxic relationship, yet his name still gives me anxiety in the worst possible way.

"I haven't seen him since I left. And I hope it stays that way," I say, gripping my glass a little too hard.

They all give me sympathetic looks, and I offer a small smile. They were my biggest support system while I was in that toxic relationship I couldn't seem to leave. Once I found the courage to do so, they made sure to be there for me every single day. If I could define friendship, they would be it.

"Well, why does that necklace look so familiar?" I say, squinting at the shiny chain around Carla's neck.

"It's the one Ian gave her," Scar sings dramatically, and I growl.

"Girl, it's been what-hundred years? A decade? You don't even know where he is!" Nancy adds.

"I know, I know. Ladies, I still think about him to this day. And it gets worse when I remember I cheated on him and that we would probably still be together had I not-"

"Uh-uh," I shake my head firmly. "We're not doing this today. You made a terrible mistake, you regretted it, you apologized, and it didn't work out. That's it, Carla."

"He wasn't even that cute, to be honest. I still remember his ugly glasses and the weird, awkward smile he would shoot you from a distance. But guess what-I had a dream about him last night." Scar says

I laugh so hard I thought I would die.

"And what possibly happened in the dream?"

"Well, he's become ten times hotter... and we made out."

"Ouuu," they all chorus.

"Rule No. 8, remember? We don't flirt, kiss, or make out with each other's exes," Carla points out.

"Girl, it was just a dream," Nancy reminds her.

"Dreams are no exception," Carla fires back, pointing, and I can't hold my laughter.

After a few more drinks, I decide to head home, my mind buzzing over the document. A decision I have to make in the next five days-one that could either ruin or brighten my future... and my mom's. Marriage is a huge step to take. But what had my hope in marriage ever given me in the past three years? Nothing but lost confidence, a fractured mind, and empty pockets over a toxic relationship. I always felt like I lost a piece of myself.

Maybe... just maybe... this was a solution. Another step in my reinvention journey.

I'm about to open the door to my car when an all-too-familiar voice cuts through the night air.

"Diane."

My pulse doubles, and suddenly the air feels too thin to breathe. I take in the figure in front of me.

"What are you doing here, Liam Reed?"

Liam stands a few feet away from me, hands in his pockets and eyes glassy. Even from here, I can smell the alcohol.

"Hi Diane." My name falls from his mouth like it belongs to him.

"What are you doing here, Liam Reed?" I ask, trying to keep my voice steady against my racing heart.

"You don't have to say my full name like I'm some stranger" He chuckles, taking a few steps closer while trying not to stumble.

"Well you are"

He steps closer, way too close and I swallow hard.

"Are you drunk?" I ask flatly but it's more of a statement than a question.

"No. I had a few drinks but I'm not drunk" He slurs.

I can feel the anger build up inside of me as I remember how he would come home drunk and turn into a wild animal. Then, apologize to me the next morning with a bouquet of flowers and some cheap-ass gifts.

"I've been trying to reach you" He says "You changed your number. You blocked me everywhere"

"Yes, that was intentional"

His jaw tightens and his gaze darkens. I gulp. I know that look too well.

"You think you can just erase three years? Three fucking years? Just like that?"

Three years of tears and broken promises. Three years of physical and emotional abuse. Of gaslighting and never ending excuses. Three years of hoping for the impossible.

"You should leave" I say quietly

"Why? So you can go home to your new boyfriend?" He laughs softly.

"I'm not doing this with you, Liam" I whisper, turning to my car

His hand shoots out and grabs my wrist firmly. The all too familiar feeling washes over me and I try to calm myself down.

"Let go off me" I breathe

"You left me when I needed you the most. I did everything to make you happy and yet you were never appreciative of my efforts"

I laugh painfully "You have some nerve to say that to me, Liam! For three years you treated me like I was nothing. You isolated me from my friends and called it protection. You gambled away all my money. Spent all my money on women and bullshit. And as if that wasn't enough, you would get physical with me every time something went wrong in your life. Is that your version of happiness?"

His grip tightens

"You're overreacting"

And just like that I find myself in the same apartment six months ago. Back in the old version of me who thought love was accepting chaos.

"I said let me go!" I scream. I feel his body press on mine as we lean against the car and I struggle even more to breathe. I feel the colour drain from my face.

The next second happens so fast I barely process it. A hand pulls Liam away from me and a fist connects with Liam's jaw. A tall figure comes to sight and I recognize him as Jason.

He grabs Liam by the collar and drives another punch into his jaw. Then another.

And another.

"Jason!" I gasp

Liam's body collides with the floor and blood spills out of his mouth and nose but Jason doesn't stop.

"How dare you fucking touch her!" Jason straddles Liam, fists rising and falling in brutal, relentless rhythm.

"This is for speaking to her" Punch

"This is for coming close to her"

"This is for thinking about touching her" Another punch

Liam grows weaker and weaker and his movements are barely noticeable.

"Jason, stop!" I cry out. He still doesn't hear me

"You're going to kill him, Jason!" I call out, rushing forward.

I have never seen him like this. It's almost as if he's been possessed by something darker. Uncontrollable rage. And this side of him scares me.

"Jason, he's not moving!" My voice cracks and he stops.

Liam lays half-conscious beneath him groaning faintly. Jason's chest rises and falls heavily. His knuckles are scrapped and his eyes are darker than I've ever seen in the last six months. He no longer looks like the playful, annoying roommate I always argue with. He looks dangerous.

"Please" I whisper "You're really scaring me"

His head snaps towards me and something in his expression shifts. It's as if my words snap him out of his own dark world into reality. He stands slowly, wiping his hand on his jeans as if it's nothing more than dust.

"If you ever come near her again" He steps closer to him one last time. " I won't stop until the very last breath you take is in my hands"

Something tells me it's more than just a threat. I raise my head to find my friends in shock, eyes wide, and colour drained from their faces. I wonder how much of that they had to see.

Jason grabs my hand gently and walks me over to his car like nothing happened

...

The ride home is quiet except for my uneven breathing. Jason's grip on the steering wheel gets tighter and tighter by the second. I can feel how intensely he looks at the road as his jaw clenches. I feel so cold and my body starts shaking.

"You didn't have to do that" I say quietly

"Yes I did"

"He could've¬¬..." I feel a lump in my throat "He could've died"

His hands tighten around the steering wheel again. I doubt he could grip any tighter than that.

"He didn't" He says flatly "Maybe he should've"

"Don't say that"

"Men like him don't change Diane. How the hell did you end up with that bastard?"

My throat burns and my fingers tighten around the seatbelt. That night flashes back before I can stop it. The silk tie on my wrists. "We're trying something new" He'd said, smirking and kissing me between words. I trusted him. It was supposed to be harmless. Exciting even.

Until it wasn't.

Until the pillow pressed harder than it should have. I tried to move and I couldn't. The only thing I was holding on to was the sound of his laughter that no longer seemed playful. He kept the pillow on my face long enough to make my chest burn.

"Relax", he'd said afterward. "You're being dramatic"

I was convinced it was kinky gone wrong and that he didn't mean it.

"Hey" Jason's voice cuts through my thoughts. "Why are you crying?"

I don't even realize I am until a tear hits my hand.

"You're shaking" He slows down the car and then pulls over completely "Shit"

"Diane"

My vision is blurry and my shoulders shake uncontrollably as I cry in the most undignified fashion ever.

"Why are you crying?" He asks again, genuinely confused.

I shake my head, pressing my palm against my face like I can physically push the emotion back inside.

"I'm fine" I manage to say between sobs

"No, you're obviously not"

Time stretches strangely after that. I don't know how long I sit there unravelling but Jason doesn't interrupt. He just watches quietly without judgement. When I finally catch my breath, I feel so drained.

"I'm so sorry" I whisper, embarrassed "I don't know what came over me"

He reaches into the back seat and pulls out a small box of tissues, handing it to me without a word. This simple gesture makes my chest tighten again.

I dab at my face mortified. "This is embarrassing"

"It's not"

I look at him expecting a smug expression on his face. Instead, I'm met with a serious, concerned look on his handsome face.

"Did he do something to you?"