By His Vow: A Billionaire Arranged Marriage Romance

The next time I wake, the room is still pretty dark, but it’s more than obvious that it’s daylight. The bed beside me is cold and empty.

I stare at the crumpled sheets, the only reminder that last night was real and not a part of my filthy imagination.

Desire stirs beneath my waist as I think about him in the shower.

Everything about it was perfect. Like it had been plucked from my dirty mind and played out right in front of me.

I banish thoughts of what happened after. If I dwell on it, I’ll only end up pissed off before I’ve even seen his face for the third day in a row.

I’m tired of fighting. Of being angry at him for…just being himself.Content rights belong to NôvelDrama.Org.

I’ve always known him to be a self-centered, arrogant jerk, so I should expect the bullshit he’s pulled. But it’s winding me up more than it ever has.

I need to let it go and just roll with the punches. It would be so much easier. And a lot less stress-inducing.

But it’s not going to happen. I spent years following the orders of a powerful man because I didn’t have any other choice.

The second I heard that Dad had passed, I vowed to never be under the control of a man again.

It’s almost laughable, what happened in the days following that promise.

No. I made the choice.

I could have said no.

I could have walked away from it all…

He’s still pulling the strings, a little voice says in my head.

He may no longer be here, but he still has control. He is still getting his way.

With bitterness sitting heavy in my stomach, I throw the covers back and march toward the bathroom. My steps falter the second my eyes land on the shower, and I immediately see Kingston standing there naked, his head tipped back and his cock in his hand.

“Fuck,” I breathe, and I attempt to force it from my mind and focus on what I need to do.

I need to forget about how hot that was, about the way I offered myself up to him, only to be rejected.

I refuse to feel less of a woman, of a person, because he apparently isn’t interested in what I have to offer.

But he is…there was no mistaking how hard he was before he fell asleep. His body wanted me. His head just clearly wasn’t on the same page.

Will I ever be more than Miles’s annoying little sister?

I step up to the sink and look at myself in the mirror.

I didn’t get a chance to take off my makeup last night, and I look like a trainwreck.

My eyeliner and mascara are smudged around my eyes, making me look even more exhausted than I feel. My hair is a disaster. It’s still up with a million bobby pins in it, but it’s all lopsided, a bit like I’ve had the best night of my life…

If fucking only.

I find my toiletries lined up on the counter, and after brushing my teeth, I set about removing the evidence of the night before.

I don’t bother changing, so when I step out of the bedroom a while later, I’m still wearing what I assume is one of Kingston’s t-shirts.

The second I pull the bedroom door open, sunlight sears my eyes, and my gaze locks on the view from the other side of the building.

Wow.

Through the floor-to-ceiling windows is a lake. The water is still, the sun glittering on the surface. And beyond that, there’s nothing but forest.

It’s stunning.

Silently, I move closer, utterly enthralled by the peacefulness of the scene.

It’s not until I’m halfway there that my skin begins to prickle with awareness.

Ignoring him and the effect he has on my body, I keep moving, desperate to get lost in the serenity of where he’s brought me.

“Where are we?” I ask again.

He refused to answer every time I asked yesterday. Maybe things have changed now the sun has risen.

“Kohler.”

“Wisconsin?” I ask.

“Do you know of another?”

“Do you need to be such a smartass? You’re ruining it,” I hiss.

I can practically hear the cutting remark he wants to respond with, but for some reason, he holds it back.

“It’s beautiful,” I breathe instead, trying to change the subject.

“Yeah,” he muses. “The view is pretty fantastic from here, too.”

My heart skips a beat, and before I know what I’m doing, I’ve spun around.

He’s sitting in a chair wearing only a pair of gray sweats and a smirk.

It shouldn’t be as hot as it is.

His eyes are dark and intense and locked firmly on me.

My stomach flip-flops, and it only gets worse when his gaze drops and he leisurely takes in every inch of my body.

I might be wearing his t-shirt, but the way he’s looking at me, I may as well be standing here naked.

“You stripped me last night,” I blurt, the words escaping without permission.

“Hmm,” he hums, his thumb dragging across his bottom lip as his eyes make their way up to mine.

My breath catches when our gazes collide.

“You were right,” he says, confusing me.

“I was?” I ask, my voice annoyingly raspy from just one heated locked stare with him.

Shut that shit down, Tatum. You do not want him.

“Yep. Your panties were fucking massive.”

Credit where credit’s due, he tries to keep a straight face, he really does. But only a second later, one side of his mouth twitches.

“Yeah, all right. Laugh it up. I wouldn’t have been able to wear that dress without them, so⁠—”

“Bullshit. You’ve got a banging body, Tatum.”

His compliment is such a shock, I lose all train of thought for a hot minute.

“One that I didn’t give you permission to look at, let alone undress.”

“If you’re expecting an apology, you’re going to be waiting a long fucking time,” he confesses before pushing to his feet and moving closer.

The air around us turns thick as my heart rate increases.

“What are we doing here?” I ask, trying to keep a level head as his scent floods my nose.

He gets so close that I have no choice but to tip my head back to keep my eyes on his. It’s either that, or I look ahead…right at his bare chest.

I swallow thickly and try to keep the image of him in the shower from my head. Obsessing over that isn’t helping anyone.

He reaches out and I gasp as his knuckles brush along my cheek before he tucks a lock of my hair behind my ear.

“I thought you could use a weekend away.”

“Why?” I breathe.

He shakes his head, his eyes searching mine.

“You’re still thinking about it, aren’t you?” he correctly guesses.

“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”

He smirks. “Of course not. That’s why your pupils are dilated, your chest is heaving, and your nipples are hard beneath my shirt.”

“Kingston,” I whisper, although I’m not convinced it isn’t more of a whimper.

“And something tells me that if I⁠—”

“Oh my god,” I gasp when his fingers brush against my thigh.

“If I were to explore a little more, I’d find you wet and ready for me.”

“Never,” I hiss.

“Such a pretty little liar, Tatum,” he muses as he traces my lips with his pointer finger.

“I-I’m not,” I argue, but I quickly discover he’s not going to find out the truth for himself because he suddenly backs away and stalks over to the small but luxurious kitchen.

“I’ll get you back for work on Monday morning. But we’re spending the weekend here. You’re going to kick back, chill out, and rest,” he instructs before pulling open the refrigerator and emerging with⁠—

For the love of fucking God.

“I want a coffee,” I argue, barely restraining myself from stomping my foot on the floor like a toddler.

He smirks as he pours the homemade juice from the bottle and into a glass—as if that makes it more appealing.

“You can have one. After you have this.”

I want to argue, I really fucking do, but I’m scared that if I utter even a word, he’ll take the coffee option off the table and leave me without any caffeine hit.

Admitting defeat, I stalk over, wrap my hand around the glass, and bring it to my lips.

Without thinking, I tip it back and swallow it down without coming up for air.

Honestly, it isn’t even that bad, but there’s no way I’d admit that after the fuss I’ve made.

The second I’ve drained the glass, I slam it on the counter before staring him dead in the eye and licking my lips.

“Coffee, please,” I say in the sweetest voice I’m capable of while forcing a smile onto my lips.

“Of course, baby,” he teases before turning around to the coffee machine, popping a pod in and hitting the start button.

The scent of rich coffee fills the air and my mouth waters.

Now that’s how you start the day.

“Hungry?” Kingston asks after delivering my mug of liquid gold.

“Uh…yeah, I guess.”

He quirks a brow.

“You need to start taking better care of yourself, Tatum.”

“I go to the gym.” I scoff. I also eat a lot of chocolate, cake, and drink way too much coffee and alcohol, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“Looking after yourself is more than just working out. It’s about what you put inside your body.”

“If only,” I mutter, earning a heated glare from Kingston.

“Are you really bitching at me for doing the right thing?” he asks incredulously.

“We’re not discussing this,” I snap.

“You started it.”

“How very mature of you.”

Both of his brows lift this time.

“What are you feeding me? Rabbit food?” I guess.

He shakes his head and turns away from me as I sip my coffee.

To my surprise, he pulls a jug of batter from the fridge and sets it beside a frying pan.

Next comes bacon, then eggs, and mushrooms.

Okay, maybe I can work with this.

The scent of frying bacon fills the air and my mouth waters while my stomach grumbles.

The meal we had at the gala last night was incredible, but the portion sizes were on the small side.

I watch him work in silence, and before long, he slides a plate full of freshly made pancakes, bacon, eggs, and mushrooms toward me.

“Eat up; you’re going to need the energy for what I’ve got planned.”

I don’t say anything despite the many responses that dance on the tip of my tongue.

He waits for it, but when no words pass my lips, he takes a seat beside me at the island and starts on his breakfast.

The silence isn’t uncomfortable, per se. But it’s not entirely comfortable either.

We’re both on edge, and there’s a very heavy sexual tension hanging around us.

But neither of us acknowledge it or make a move to shatter it.

“That was good, thank you,” I finally say once my plate is empty.

“You’re welcome,” he says before taking my hand and pulling me from the stool.

“What are you doing?”

“We’re getting ready to go out.”

“Go out? I thought we were relaxing.”

“We are.”

“Going out isn’t relaxing in my book.”

“Then maybe you should take a page out of mine,” he counters before releasing my hand in favor of placing a suitcase on the edge of the bed and unzipping it.

The second he flips the lid open, I discover that it’s packed full of my things.

He rummages through before pulling out a pair of cut-off shorts, a long-sleeved Chicago Chiefs t-shirt and a red set of lingerie. A set he chose. And then to top it off…a thick pair of socks.

“Interesting choice,” I muse, staring at the items laid out on the bed for me.

“Get dressed,” he instructs before turning his back on me and reaching for another case.

He grabs what he needs before shamelessly shoving his sweats from his hips, leaving him standing there gloriously naked. I’m powerless to do anything but gawp.

“The sun will only be up for so many hours, Tatum,” he mutters without looking back to confirm that I’m doing nothing but staring.

“You’ve got a nice ass for a jerk.”

“Pretty sure you like more than just my ass,” he counters as he pulls a pair of shorts over his boxers and then reaches for a t-shirt.

When he turns around fully dressed, I’m still standing in the shirt I slept in.

Folding his thick arms across his chest, he raises a brow.

“What? You’re not watching me dress,” I sass.

“You just watched me,” he points out.

“I didn’t have much choice. You just stripped off.”

“You could have looked away,” he argues. “Just like you could have walked away last night.”

My lips purse.

Why didn’t I just walk away? It would have saved a lot of frustration.

Part of me expects him to stay put and force me to change in front of him, but after a few seconds, he concedes and walks toward the door.

“You’ve got ten minutes.”

“But I need to shower,” I argue.

“Shower later. We have places to be.”