By His Vow: A Billionaire Arranged Marriage Romance

“If I would have pictured your bachelorette party, this wouldn’t have been what I had in mind,” Lori says as she sips on her pornstar martini while relaxing back in a lounger with the sound of running water and soft music in the background.

“No, me neither.” But even as I say the words, the thought of being out in a hot and sweaty club right now doesn’t appeal.

This night might not be what we would have planned, but I can’t help but feel like it’s perfect.

Things since Kingston released those photographs to the press have been crazy.

The thought of going out and having the press follow me around, wanting to capture my every movement, doesn’t fill me with the warm and fuzzies.

The reality is that being enclosed within the safety of the Broadway Hotel, with the paparazzi restricted to the outside, is what I need.

“We should sneak out,” Lori whispers as if someone is listening to us.

I chuckle, assuming she’s joking.

“You packed a sexy dress, right?”

“You’re being serious,” I state.

“Of course I am. It’s the night before your wedding; you deserve to have an epic night.”

“Umm, I am,” I say, lifting my cocktail to my lips and taking a sip.

Jackie, Kingston’s stepmom, came down for an hour and had her nails done. My mom was meant to join us, but I’m pretty sure she’s hit the minibar in her room and is probably already asleep. Kingston asked if I wanted to have anyone else here. But honestly, I don’t.

I’ve never had a huge circle of friends. But right now, I need people I trust completely around me. We’re already lying to enough people about this wedding. I don’t need to turn it into an even bigger show than it already is.

“Hanging out with your soon-to-be mother-in-law while in a basement spa doesn’t really cut it, Tate.”

“Well, when you get married, we can do whatever your heart desires to make up for it. The only place I’m going tonight other than right here is to bed.”

She stares at me in disbelief.

“You’re not joking, are you?” she asks hesitantly.

“No. My face has been all over the media for the last two weeks. I really don’t need to add more. I also don’t want to be hungover tomorrow.”

“But—”

“There are no buts here, Lor. This is how it’s going to be.”

“Fair enough,” she says, draining her glass and placing it on the side. “We do need more drinks, though.”

She presses the button on the little remote control we were provided with earlier to call a server before sitting back on her lounger.

“I’ve had worse Friday nights,” she finally confesses before lifting her cell and opening up Instagram.

Laughing, I reach for my own cell and lose myself in some mindless scrolling.

“You seen them?” she asks, leaning over to show me a photo.

My eyes immediately lock on my soon-to-be husband’s smiling face. My heart rate picks up and my temperature spikes.ConTEent bel0ngs to Nôv(e)lD/rama(.)Org .

It is not the reaction I should be having to the man I’m only marrying because of a business deal. But it’s the one I have all the same.

She swipes to the next image and I find Miles and Kieran with him, all three with tequila shots lined up before them.

“On three,” Kieran says, winking at the camera, which I assume Kian is holding, seeing as he’s missing from the line-up. “Three,” Kieran suddenly barks before licking the salt from the back of his hand.

Kingston and Miles quickly follow suit, but Kingston is the only one I focus on as he throws his shot back and then bites down on a slice of lime.

“Jesus,” Lori breathes. But when I glance over, I don’t find her watching the screen. She’s looking at me, and there’s a weirdly sappy look in her eyes.

“What?” I mutter.

“You want to be that lime so badly right now,” she sings.

My chin drops at her insinuation.

“N-no, I⁠—”

“Jesus, you really have been punishing yourself as well as him, haven’t you?”

The second the words are out of her mouth, I regret telling her that we haven’t been together since that night in his bedroom.

“Fucking complicates the situation,” I argue, sticking to the story I first told her when I explained my sudden vow of celibacy.

“Fucking is a massive benefit of marrying an asshole,” she counters.

The hurt I remember all too well the moment I discovered he’d shared what I thought was our private moment together at the cabin edges in.

“I can’t do it, Lor. That weekend, it⁠—”

“Tate,” she says, abandoning her cell on her lounger and taking my hand. Her eyes bounce between mine as if she’s trying to find a way to deliver her next words delicately. I narrow my eyes, silently telling her to hurry the fuck up, but the second the words fall from her lips, I regret it. “You’re falling for him, aren’t you?”

“What?” I gasp. “No, of course I’m not. I can’t stand him. He’s—” A door closing behind us cuts off my argument before the click-clack of heels moves closer.

Assuming it’s the server coming to supply us with new drinks, I don’t bother turning to look.

A shadow falls over me and Lori’s eyes lift to the person standing beside me.

Glancing over, I have to do a double take when I find a beautiful young woman looking down at me with a soft smile playing on her lips.

“Could we please get two more pornstar martinis?” Lori asks, clearly not getting the memo from what she’s wearing that this woman isn’t our server.

Her smile grows. “Cute,” she whispers, briefly glancing at my best friend before turning her eyes back to me.

Suddenly, she thrusts her hand out for me.

“Tatum, I’m Aubrey Kendrick and I’ve⁠—”

“Fucked my husband,” I blurt.

Lori gasps beside me, jumping to her feet so fast I’d be surprised if she didn’t get a head rush. In contrast, Aubrey doesn’t so much as flinch at my cutting statement.

“You two have spoken about me, then?” she says before walking around my lounger and taking a seat on the end of Lori’s abandoned one.

My best friend watches Aubrey like Griz does before pouncing on a toy.

It’s cute, and her need to protect me makes my heart swell with love.

“It’s okay, Lor. You can stand down.”

Aubrey shoots a look up at my bikini-clad security guard and smirks. If what Kingston told me is to be believed—and honestly, why would he lie?—then I hardly doubt she’s fazed at all by Lori. She’s hardly scary.

Focusing back on me, she smiles. This time, it’s a lot more genuine.

“It was a long time ago. We’ve been friends—platonic friends—ever since.”

“Right,” I mutter.

I don’t want to like this woman. But there’s also something about her that I can’t help warming to.

Kingston doesn’t have a big network. He keeps his friends close, so the fact he’s let Aubrey in, and they’ve stayed connected for quite a few years, makes me want to believe that she’s a decent person.

“Why are you here?” Lori blurts, the martinis loosening her tongue more than usual.

“Kingston mentioned you were having a small bachelorette down here so…”

“You thought you’d invite yourself,” Lori continues.

“I can go. It’s no big deal. I just wanted to meet Tatum. Kingston seems pretty smitten.”

I scoff. “If you’re talking about growing his empire and reputation, then yeah, he’s totally smitten.”

The door closes again, and this time when a pair of footsteps appears, it’s our server, ready to take our order.

“Two more pornstar martinis, please,” Lori orders.

“Aubrey?” I offer.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course. We’re not exactly filling the place up down here.”

She nods once, accepting my invitation before looking up at the server. “I’ll have the same, please.”

“You’re right, by the way,” Lori says once we’re alone again. “Kingston is totally smitten with my girl here. I mean, why shouldn’t he be? Look at her.”

“Lor,” I complain when she waves her hand up and down, gesturing to my body.

“What? If you ask me, he’s the one who lucked out with this arranged marriage bullshit.”

The three of us fall into an easy conversation about Kingston before we divert off in a million different directions as the drinks continue to flow.

It turns out that Aubrey was pretty confident about her invitation to join us, because when Lori suggests we relocate to the sauna, she quickly peels her oversized t-shirt and leggings off to reveal a bathing suit that I’m sure would drive every single member of the opposite sex—and more than a few of the same—crazy with desire.

It doesn’t take much imagination to understand why she’s so good at her job. A job we only briefly managed to scratch the surface of despite my and Lori’s piqued interest.

By the time Lori and I stumble back to our fancy suite on the top floor of the most prestigious hotel in the city, my plan for not getting drunk seems to have flown right out the window.

I’m flying high on the martinis, and so is Lori as she weaves back and forth in her attempt to find the bedroom.

“You are getting married in the morning.” She sings at the top of her lungs as she spins around to look at me. “Ding dong, the bells are going to chime. Or they would if you were innocent enough for a church.” She falls about in a fit of giggles before stumbling on nothing and going flying backward.

She reaches out and snags my hand a beat before she crashes to the floor, dragging me with her.

We land with loud squeals before an eruption of laughter spills free as we roll around together.

And just like that all the stress and worry of the past few weeks melts away as I finally let go of everything and just…laugh.

The pressure of building a fake relationship, the lies I’ve been telling myself about my unwanted growing feelings for King. Everything just vanishes.

It is the best medicine for my shitshow of a life right now, and I embrace it with both hands.

“Oh my god,” Lori squeals as she manages to get to her feet before stumbling into the dresser. “Tomorrow is going to hurt.”

“No,” I cry. “No talk about tomorrow. Here and now. Me and you.”

“Me and fucking you, baby,” Lori promises before shoving her sweats down her legs and attempting to pull them from her feet.

She’s still fighting with them once I’m up and leaning against the wall to ensure I stay that way.

The second she frees her feet, she crashes onto the bed face-first.

“Love you, Tatum Warner,” she mumbles. “Fucking love you.”

I stare at my best friend with her panty-covered ass on display with a sappy smile on my face.

“I love you too, Lori,” I whisper, aware that she’s already passed out.

Tears burn my eyes, and a thick, messy ball of emotion crawls up my throat as I think about my new life with Kingston in his penthouse.

I’m not ready to leave my apartment. My girl.

I need water before passing out in the hope it helps to clear my head for tomorrow. It could be wishful thinking; I may well be too far gone at this point.

I pull a cold bottle from the fridge in our small yet fully functioning kitchen before twisting the top and swallowing down mouthful after mouthful of ice-cold water.

I’m halfway through the bottle when exhaustion hits me out of nowhere. I stumble back until my calves hit the edge of the couch and I flop down.

My eyes get heavy as the room continues to spin around me. I glance back at the bedroom where Lori is sleeping and then down at my engagement ring.

I’m getting married tomorrow.

Married to a man I hate.

Or do I?

Everything is so fucked up. So confusing.

Slumping down on the couch, I nuzzle into the cushion as thoughts of Kingston play out in my mind.

Kingston, the hard-ass businessman.

Kingston, the player.

Kingston, the sweet guy who took me away for the weekend and let me see who he was.

Kingston, the sex god…

And it’s those thoughts I drift off to sleep thinking about.

His touch. His kiss. His dirty words.