By His Vow: A Billionaire Arranged Marriage Romance

I am about to be married to the most infuriating, defiant brat in the entire world.

The memory of her tipping the superfood juice down the drain this morning plays on repeat in my mind.

I was trying to help.

She was beyond wasted when I turned up to Maxies last night. Miles didn’t even notice me; he was too distracted by a harem of women to see me slip into the VIP room at the back and steal his sister right from under his nose.

He was meant to be looking after her, protecting her, yet there she was, half comatose on the couch surrounded by cocktail glasses.

If I couldn’t tell she was wasted by looking at her, then it was more than obvious when I slipped my hands under her body and lifted her.

She gazed up at me through glassy eyes and called me her hero.

The world is more likely to stop turning than her calling me that if she were sober.

Using the bar’s back exit, I carried her out unnoticed and held her the entire journey back to her apartment.

I was expecting to find her roommate at some point, for her to be the one to cuss me out and tell me where to go for touching her best friend, but the apartment was blissfully peaceful—although a total fucking dump—as I stripped her hoodie and leggings from her body and tucked her into bed.

I placed a bottle of water and a packet of painkillers on her nightstand before storming out almost as fast as I entered.

I considered staying, letting her wake up and discover how she got back here in one piece. But one look around her room and I knew I couldn’t do it.

The floor was covered in clothes, her countertops littered with makeup, perfume, and fuck knows whatever else. It was too much. Literally, too much fucking stuff.

But while I might not have spent the night to ensure she didn’t swallow her tongue in a drunken stupor, I had every intention of showing my face this morning.

I knew how happy she would be to see me, and she certainly didn’t disappoint.

If I weren’t so furious with her, I might just laugh.

The way she looked me dead in the eye and just poured it down the sink…

I don’t know why I’m surprised, but I fucking am.

With little else to do, while I wait for what feels like an eternity for her to get showered and dressed, I embark on attempting to sort her life out.

I’m not sure why I bother; she’s not going to be living here for much longer, but I can’t help myself.

I put the huge array of takeout containers in the trash and pile all the dirty dishes next to the sink. I would have put them in the dishwasher, but predictably, that was full of dirty dishes as well.

I set that running and immediately understand why they might not have done so before bed, because it’s the noisiest fucking thing I’ve ever heard.

I take a step back, my heart beating a little faster than necessary, but before I manage to escape the cesspit that is their kitchen, something moving through the air catches my eye a beat before it lands on my shoulder, instantly sending pain shooting down my arm.

“What the—” I turn to the side to see a ginger cat glaring at me. I swear the little fucker is smirking, too. “Get the fuck off me, vermin,” I demand as I embark on trying to pull its claws from my skin.

It hisses at me, its hackles rising higher than I thought possible. I swear to God, if the thing could talk it would be swearing at me.

“Oh, you little shit,” I bark, finally managing to get a firm enough grip around its middle that I can drag it from my body, although, I’m pretty sure it takes a chunk of my skin with it.

Fuck, that hurts.

I hold the smirking terror before me and narrow my eyes.

“The fuck is your problem?” I sneer.

A door slams down the hallway, and I’m just about to launch the thing in Tatum’s direction when another voice fills the air.

“Get your hands off Mrs. Meowington.”

My eyes widen in surprise as Tatum’s best friend runs toward me and lifts the ginger furball from my hands, cradling it against her chest like a little baby.

“What are you doing to our pussy?”

“I-I—” I stutter like an idiot. “I don’t want anything to do with your pussy, Lorelei.”

She studies me suspiciously as my shoulder burns and I swear blood trickles down my skin.

Fucking vampire cat.

Another door opens before heels tap down the hallway.

“What the hell is going on?” Tatum demands, looking between me, Lorelei, and the fucking feral animal.C0pyright © 2024 Nôv)(elDrama.Org.

“He was going to throw Mrs. Meowington across the room like she’s nothing more than a football,” the fucking tattle-tail screeches in horror.

“You what?” Tatum gasps.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” I mutter, scrubbing my hand down my face. “I was not going to throw your fucking cat across the room. Although, I should have. Fucking thing deserves it after what it did to me.”

“She’s scared of the dishwasher,” Tatum explains.

“Are you surprised? That thing sounds like the Terminator short-circuited.”

Silence falls over us as the dishwasher continues to wreak havoc behind us.

“Come on, Mrs. Meowington, you can snuggle in my room,” Lorelei says in a baby voice before walking down the hallway.

“Why are you still here?” Tatum asks. “Wait…have you tidied up?”

“Someone had to, don’t you think?” I deadpan.

“Whatever. Let’s go,” she says, pulling her jacket on and throwing her purse over her shoulder. “The sooner you’re out of my apartment, the better.”

“I could say the same about you.”

She pauses and shoots a glare over her shoulder.

If looks could kill…

Or more so, if her fucking feral pussy hadn’t gotten there first.

I grab my own jacket and throw it over my shoulder as I follow her to the front door, my eyes locked on her ass that’s showcased by what I’m sure is the world’s tightest pencil skirt.

Fuck knows what I’ve done to deserve this morning, but someone up there is kicking my ass for something.

“Why is he here?” Lorelei snaps, reappearing from her room.

She looks like she’s had a very good night—and not in the way Tatum did. Her hair is a disheveled mess, she has smears of red lipstick up her cheeks, and her throat is littered with hickies.

My cock aches a little at the sight.

I could do with a night like that right about now.

“Good morning, Lorelei. It’s wonderful to see you too.” I smile at her, but there’s nothing genuine about it.

Her eyes narrow before they drop down my body. Fuck knows what she’s looking for.

“Interesting,” she mutters.

“Not now, Lor. I’ve got the hangover from hell. I take it your date was everything you wanted it to be?” Tatum asks, raising a brow as her attention moves between her best friend’s eyes and her throat.

“Oh my god, Tate. It was⁠—”

“We don’t have time for this. We’re delighted you got a good dicking last night, Lorelei, but some of us have jobs to get to.”

Pressing my hand against Tatum’s lower back, I nudge her forward before opening the door and practically pushing her through it.

“Do you mind?” she hisses.

“No, not at all,” I mutter impatiently.

“I’ll call you,” Tatum shouts back to Lorelei.

“You’d better. I need to know what the hell is going on here.”

“I’m not sure you do,” Tatum says under her breath.

“Kingston, did you know you’re bleeding?” she calls before we turn the corner.

“Fuck my life.”

“Karma, baby,” Tatum deadpans.

She presses the call button for the elevator and the second the doors open, I push her forward.

With my hands on her hips, I spin her around and crowd her until she hits the back wall.

I stare down at her, unable to ignore the lightness in her eyes that wasn’t there when she first opened the door to me earlier.

Her makeup is flawless, accentuating her natural beauty and making it…breathtaking.

Her hair is down and falling in thick, soft waves around her shoulders, and the blouse she’s wearing…fuck. It’s the perfect tease for what she’s hiding beneath.

“And here I was thinking you had more experience with pussy than that.”

My teeth grind in irritation, but there is no way she’s getting the upper hand here.

“Oh baby,” I purr, moving closer so nothing but the scent of her sweet perfume fills my nose. “You have no idea the things I can do with a⁠—”

The elevator dings and the doors open. She slips from between me and the wall and walks out with her head held high.

Spinning around, I follow her and my brows pinch as she walks toward a random car with what looks like a woolly mammoth sitting in the driver’s seat.

“Where are you going?” I call as people walk in both directions on the sidewalk between us.

She doesn’t respond despite the fact I know she heard me.

“Excuse me,” I mutter, shoving some unsuspecting guy out of the way so I can stop her before she climbs into the back of that car.

My fingers wrap around her upper arm a beat before she ducks inside.

“What the hell are you doing?” she screams as I pull her back onto the sidewalk, our bodies barely an inch apart.

“You’re not getting in that car.”

“Why the hell not? As you so kindly pointed out, I need to get to the office, and I’m not walking there in these shoes.”

“You have no idea who that man is,” I state.

“Uh, yeah, I do,” she argues, holding her cell between us. “His name is Marcus, and he drives a black Prius. He’s a fully registered Uber driver. He⁠—”

“Will drive you to the outback of nowhere and leave you for dead,” I point out.

“Are you hearing yourself right now? Millions of women get in Ubers every single day. How many have vanished off the face of the Earth?”

l move my lips to give her an answer, but I quickly find that I don’t have one.

I fucking will, though. I’m going to find out the answer and point out to her just how unsafe it is to put her life in some stranger’s hands.

“My car is over there. From here on out, you want to go anywhere, Lewis will escort you.”

Sliding my hand down her arm, I entwine our fingers and turn toward my car.

“No, Kingston. That is not⁠—”

“You’re causing a scene, baby. I’m pretty sure we need to announce our relationship before giving the media an exclusive to our first fight.”

“This is not a fight. This is you being totally unreasonable,” she argues.

“Keeping my girl safe is never unreasonable.”

I spin her around and we find Lewis standing beside the open back door to my car, waiting for us.

“Lewis, this is Tatum. Tatum, this is Lewis. I’ll put his contact in your cell. Wherever you need to go, call him. He is at your disposal.”

I nod at Lewis, confirming my words. Her needs come before mine now.

“Good morning, Miss Warner. It’s good to meet you.”

“Please, call me Tate,” she says politely. “But also, don’t be expecting my call. I already have more than I need from your boss.”

I half expect her to hot foot it down the sidewalk, giving me little choice but to give chase, but to my surprise, she steps toward the door that Lewis has opened for us and slips inside.

Lewis’s eyes meet mine and a silent conversation passes between us.

You’ve got your hands full with that one, Boss.

I shake my head, unable to keep the smirk from my lips.

“Good girl,” I muse after sliding across the seat to sit beside her.

The second my thigh touches hers, she practically jumps to the end of the seat.

“Don’t,” she warns.

“Don’t what?” I ask innocently.

“Don’t use that tone.”

“What tone?”

She rolls her eyes and sighs heavily.

“Just…just be quiet from here on out. This morning has been stressful enough already.”