Page 31 of Billionaire In Vegas

“What makes you think that?”

“I’m a lowly temp worker, you’re a billionaire’s son and former pro-athlete.”

“We have more in common than you think.”

“Name one thing.” I happily waited for him to answer, enjoying our banter. Even though I didn't want to admit it, he was good company. We’d actually spent a little extra time in Vegas after my friends had already flown back, to meet with a lawyer and draw up the contract. Misha and Emmaline had been surprisingly excited about our agreement. I had expected them to be judgmental and tell me I was crazy, but they hadn’t. They’d seemed excited for me. Maybe it was the promise of billions of dollars that had made them open to the idea of their best friend staying married to a man she barely knew.

We’d flown home together and much to my dismay, Oliver had met us on the landing. It had been an awkward car ride. I’d wanted to talk about his health and he’d ignored all my questions and instead focused on what plans Jude and I had for our lives together. It was as if Oliver had forgotten that Jude and I had only recently met.

I didn't know what Oliver’s lawyer had told him or what Jude had told his father, but Oliver was over the moon. I just wanted reassurance that I still had a job, after he assured me that I did, I tried to be receptive to his chipper mood. And for the first time since I saw them together, Oliver and Jude hadn’t fought. They had almost been pleasant towards each other.

Except, as Jude and I walked to the car that waited for us Oliver had yelled to Jude, “You better not screw this up, Jude!”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Dad,” Jude had called back.

I smiled to myself. Oliver and Jude were more alike than they realized.

“What are you smiling about?” Jude asked as we turned onto my street.

“Oh, nothing,” I said.

“You know, a healthy marriage is a marriage without secrets.”

“Our marriage is pretty unhealthy already given that it’s based on a lie and all.”

“Touché,” he said as he pulled up in front of my apartment building. We climbed out and made our way upstairs.

I sensed him staring at my butt and turned around and caught him.

I shook my head as I continued up the stairs. “Seriously, Jude... you know the rules.”

“What?” he gave me a sheepish, boyish grin, “I was just looking not touching. You can't blame me for enjoying the view.”

I was too winded to argue with him. “Gosh, I need to get into better shape.”

“Yeah, as your husband, I worry about your cardiovascular health.”

I was too out of breath to be angry and just gave a resigned sigh, fished my key out of my purse and opened my door.

“Nice...” he said softly as he invited himself in. He took his time, looking around. I immediately felt self-conscious thinking of the mansion Oliver lived in, but then I realized how silly I was being. Jude’s loft had been a cesspool, speaking of which...

“Don’t you have a housekeeper that you need to call?”

He shook his head. “Obviously I don’t. Can you look one up for me?”

I wanted to tell him no, but realized I’d probably be a lot more efficient. I pulled out my phone and started searching for a service and was too busy focusing on the task to notice he was going through my things.

I saw him pull out my scrapbook and yelled, “Hey! Put that down!”

Of course, he ignored me. “Who’s this? He looks like he’s in pain.”

I snatched the picture from his hand, knowing exactly what he was talking about. It was a picture of my ex-boyfriend Evan, and he did look like he was in pain. He was surrounded by a group of dogs that were ready for adoption. The picture had been taken last Christmas. I’d dragged him to a fundraiser for a local animal rescue group. He hadn’t wanted to go, but I’d insisted. He’d been miserable the whole time. I swear when I wasn’t looking he’d probably even kicked a puppy.

Jude sat down next to me, snatched the picture back and studied it while scratching his chin. “He looks like a real charmer. So who is he? Ex-boyfriend?”

“Yes,” I grumbled.

“Hmm... he looks like the type who would kick a puppy.”