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The billionaire doesn’t answer. Instead, he starts throwing on clothes like a madman, his back stiff. But I can tell he’s listening, so I start talking.
“I signed up with Curves because my parents are forcing me into an unwanted marriage. It’s an arranged marriage with someone I hate. A man who’s a drug addict.”
Barry doesn’t reply, merely buttoning up his shirt, so I continue as desperation laces my voice.
“My friend Chrissy used to work for Curves, so when I mentioned my plight, she suggested I work as an escort. It’s all part of a scheme to get out of my arranged marriage, don’t you see? Samuel and his family won’t want a prostitute into their family, so I recorded the video to show them that I’m an escort.”
Barry spins towards me now, those blue eyes narrowed into slits.
“So you were going to distribute that video to other people? The one where you can see my face as I fuck a whore?”
I flinch involuntarily.
“Yes, but I never showed it to anyone because I can’t do that to you. What I have with you means more to me than using you to get out of an unwanted marriage. So the video is safe, Barry. It’ll never see the light of day, and I’m asking for your forgiveness.”
He snorts before turning to me with scorn in his eyes.
“Do you hear yourself, Primrose? Do you really think I’m so fucking dumb?”
I gasp, my curves trembling.
“What do you mean?”
He guffaws again and begins pulling on his jacket with rough, angry movements.
“I wasn’t born yesterday, sweetheart. People don’t have arranged marriages anymore! You don’t have to make up some hare-brained story to justify yourself. You’re a sneaky whore, and a sneaky whore you’ll always be.”
I bite my lip as tears spring to my eyes.
“Yes, but—”
He cuts me off again with an angry chop of his hand.
“You heard me. You’re a whore, and I was a fool to believe otherwise.”
Tears begin rolling down my cheeks then.
“No,” I whisper. “I love you Barry. Yes, I made a mistake, but we’re magnetic together. We’re perfect together. Please, don’t do this.”
When he speaks, it is with a voice so cold that my lungs turn to ice.
“There is no ‘us,’ Prim, and there never was. In fact, it’s time for you to get out and stay out. I never want to see you again, and don’t try to contact me. Delete every picture of me you have on that phone, and that video as well. If you don’t, I’ll do everything in my power to ruin you.”
I stare at him.
“No Barry, you don’t mean that.”
He merely looks away, his expression stone cold.
“Get out Prim. I won’t say it again.”
With a hoarse cry, I grab some random clothes from the closet and then run outside, uncaring that my hair is wet and that I look a mess. In the living room, I scramble into the outfit even as my chest heaves with tears. What’s going on? How did this happen?
But as I tear from the apartment, my heart breaks as my shoulders shake because it’s all too clear how this happened. I betrayed the billionaire, and there’s no forgiveness where Barry Childers is concerned. My heart clenches as another sob tears from my throat. My fairytale is over and now it’s time to pay the piper.
10
Prim
Three months later.
I look down at my wedding dress, a dress my mother chose since I refused to shop for one. There’s tulle. Lots of it, as well as a large skirt that billows out from my waist. Sheer lace sleeves encase my arms, and the neckline is high so that no cleavage shows. The train looks to be longer than Princess Diana’s, but that may be me exaggerating. Then again, this dress is exactly what I’d never wear given my own choice, but I don’t care. My heart is a block of ice and I feel numb all over.
After all, it’s my wedding day and I’m getting married to Samuel Coleman. After I left Barry’s penthouse, I went straight home and what do you know, but Victoria and Malcolm were waiting for me.
“Hi honey,” my mom cooed. “You’re just in time. Your fiancé just got out of rehab, did you hear? Marianne tells me Sammy’s fine now and ready to move forward with the wedding.”
My dad leaned back, looking pleased while puffing on his pipe.
“Spare no expense on the event, honey. I want my daughter to be married in the ceremony of the century!”
Of course, that’s what my parents would want. To them, everything is about social standing and money. They don’t care that Sam’s probably going to relapse, or that we don’t even know each other. All they care about is the impression they make on their friends, and of course, no dime was spared. It was comical really. I wanted nothing to do with the wedding planning, and that suited my mom just fine. Victoria even resorted to texting me about my wedding because I wouldn’t come out of my room some days.
