Page 13 of Accidentally Marrying the Billionaire

After I order the food, I sit on the opposite end of the sofa, facing her. Might as well go for it and see where it takes me.

“So, as far as our marriage consummation, I’d like you to know that I’d prefer we not use any birth control methods.”

Her pretty green eyes bug out, and she chokes... on her own spit.

“I beg your pardon," she finally says.

“I’m thinking at least four kids, but I’m willing to negotiate.”

She starts looking around the room as I’m talking, as if she's searching for something.

“Are they recording us?”

“Who?” Fuck me, I hope she's not deranged. “Is who recording us?”

She sighs, then asks in a very soft voice. “Can we break character for a minute?”

I have no idea what she’s talking about, but I’m curious, so I simply say, “Sure.”

She releases a heavy sigh. “Oh, thank goodness. This has been bonkers so far. It’s not that I’m not having fun.” A furrow creases her brow. “I just expected it to be different. You know? Like more people, for one thing. Like Clue.”

I stare at her, willing her words to make sense, but I’m so fucking confused.

She must see it on my face, and she giggles. “I tend to ramble when I’m nervous.”

Our food and drinks arrive, and neither of us speaks while I tip the deliveryman and get everything set up on the coffee table in front of her. I hand her a plate, then load up my own before sitting back down on the sofa.

“Have you ever been on one of these trips before?” she asks.

“Trips?”

“The murder mystery immersion thing.”

“Murder mystery,” I repeat slowly. “Wait, is that what you’re doing?”

“What I’m doing?” She stands and puts her hand on her chest. “Isn’t that what you’re doing too?”

A murder mystery game? That actually explains a lot about her behavior—the way she was always looking around at everything as if mentally cataloging her environment, not to mention the fact that she didn’t ask too many questions about our impromptu marriage.

I shake my head slowly. I set down my plate.

She sort of paces a little in a circle, then stops again. Her breathing comes out in little, rapid puffs of air. “I think I might be having a panic attack.”

I go to her and ease her back down on the sofa, then bend her forward so her head is close to her legs. “Deep breaths. I’ve got you. We’ll figure this out. Okay? You and me in this crazy situation we’ve found ourselves in.”

I rub circles on her back and slow my own breathing to try to get her to match me. “That’s right. Slow inhale and then release.”

She sits up, her breathing calmer. “Okay. I’m okay.” Her lips purse as she blows out another breath. She picks up her beer and takes a healthy swig.

“Can you start at the beginning?”

A nod and then she speaks. “My best friend bought me this trip. Murder mystery weekend. Complete immersion. Characters. Costumes. You know—fully committed to the game sort of thing.”

“Sure,” I say.

“So when I got upgraded to a bridal suite and told my fiancé would be joining me…” She shrugs. “I assumed my character was that of a bride.”

I stare at her. “And you thought marrying me was part of a game?”