By His Vow: A Billionaire Arranged Marriage Romance

I sit in the window of the cafe, staring out at the locals and tourists alike wandering around the village center.

I find the place just as magical as I did as a kid. I swear, people are just happier here. They don’t walk around with what looks like the weight of the world on their shoulders. Instead, they have their heads up and their eyes wide, taking in the beauty that is around them.

It might still only be spring, but as always, the grass is greener, the flowers are prettier, and the fluffy white clouds in the blue sky are cuter. Okay, yeah, it’s still cold as fuck outside, but it’s so beautiful, it’s easy to forget. And really, there is nothing better than curling up in front of the fire.

Being in his arms is better.

I banish that thought as soon as it hits.

I want to say that it’s getting easier to forget about him, about home, but it’s not. With every day that passes, I find myself questioning my decision more and more.

But then I remember that he’s not here.

It’s been over a week since I secretly boarded a plane and hopped across the pond. A week since I’ve seen him, since I’ve spoken to him—or anyone, actually. I’d be stupid to believe it’s because he doesn’t know where I am.

It wouldn’t take a genius to figure out that the first place I’d come to was here. Sure, he wouldn’t know what house I’m staying in seeing as I don’t have access to Aunt Lena’s place, but there are only so many places I can hide in this small village.

But as far as I know, he hasn’t even tried to find me.

It’s been three days since he was served the divorce papers I’d demanded Richard expedite so that I could close this chapter of my life sooner rather than later.

Richard hasn’t heard anything, as far as I’m aware. I haven’t heard anything—not that I’ve turned my cell on, of course. But I’ve been on my emails, and there has been nothing from him.

Lori has emailed me every day letting me know that she’s thinking of me and she misses me. She keeps sending me images of Griz and letting me know what my girl has been up to. It makes me smile as much as it makes my heart ache.

I miss them. Miles too. He’s reached out more than once, begging for me to respond, even if it’s just to let him know that I’m okay.

But I can’t. Not yet. I’m not ready to hear whatever it is he might have to say about my resignation. About the choices I’ve made by walking away from everything.

Lifting my pastry to my lips, I take another bite. It’s flaky and perfect, but I barely taste it.

Everything has been the same the past few days. I may as well be eating cardboard.

I’ve no idea if it’s a symptom that I’m going to have to put up with for a few months, or if it’s just the result the past week has had on my exhausted body.

Some nights I manage to get some sleep; others I just toss and turn, my head spinning a million miles a minute as I freak out over my future.

I don’t need to; I have nothing to freak out about.

I might have kissed goodbye to my trust fund and our apartment, but I have enough saved that we’ll be okay.

I’m going to be able to give this baby everything it needs and keep a roof over our heads. Plus, there are a million other jobs in the world. I don’t have to work for a fancy marketing department in the city. Hell, I’ll deliver freaking papers if it helps pay my way. I’m not fussy. All I want is a life that is my own. One that I get to choose, not one that is dictated by a man.

My man…

Kingston’s smiling face as he looms over me in bed, his hair falling into his face and his jaw rough with stubble fills my mind as grief wraps around my chest.

Over the past few days, I’ve told myself that I’m struggling to let go of everything I thought we had because I never got to properly say goodbye.

I’m pretty sure it’s bullshit, but I’m telling myself it regardless.

The truth is, I fell harder than I even thought, and walking away from him, from the life we were building together, has ripped my heart in two.

I was never meant to fall for him. I hated him, for fuck’s sake.

But I couldn’t help it. Every look, every touch, every whispered dirty word and I lost a little more of my heart to him. Pieces that I don’t think I’m ever going to get back.Contentt bel0ngs to N0ve/lDrâ/ma.O(r)g!

I’ve never been in love before. I didn’t know what to expect. But I also can’t say that I’m surprised that losing it hurts this much. I’ve listened to enough Taylor Swift songs to understand that it’s like a baseball bat to the chest, time and time again.

Dropping the rest of my pastry to the plate, I shove it away, unable to eat any more.

Reaching for my tea—yes, my tea—I take a sip, hoping it’ll taste like something.

Nope.

I push that away as well, focusing on the people outside again in the hope of being distracted from my pain.

What did I really expect? That I’d serve him divorce papers and that he’d drop everything and come running?

Yeah, maybe a stupid, fickle part of me hoped that he would.

I may or may not have daydreamed about the doorbell on my rental ringing and him standing on the other side of the door, ready to confess his undying love for me.

A bitter laugh spills from my lips as I think about it.

It’s never going to happen. He’s more concerned about taking over Warner Group and growing his empire than he is with having me in his life. I was just an easy lay. That’s probably the only reason he’s realized that I’ve gone.

My stomach knots at the thought of that being true.

I don’t want it to be. I want to believe that something was building between us. But it’s easier to try and convince myself that it was all one-sided. It’s the only way I stand a chance of getting over it. Getting over him.

Without thought, my hand shifts to my stomach, pressing gently.

I’m never going to be able to get over him. Not since he left a piece of himself with me.

Guilt twists up my insides. I’ve known for a week. That’s a long time in pregnancy terms. He deserves to know what our short time together has resulted in. But the thought of talking to him, of telling him about it terrifies me.

A wave of nausea washes through me and I bite down on the inside of my lip, as if that’ll help.

It’s just ebbing away when someone outside the cafe’s window catches my eye.

Aubrey?

I narrow my eyes and push to my feet.

Before I know it, I’ve abandoned the little table I’ve wasted the morning sitting at and I’m out on the street, the cool breeze whipping around me, sending a shiver racing down my spine.

The sidewalk is crowded and I’m forced to stretch up on my tiptoes to try and see.

Darting around all the people, I race in the direction I thought she was going, searching like a mad woman.

But I never find her.

When I get to the end of the main street, I turn around and scan the village center with a weird sense of unease prickling my skin.

I was so sure that was her. Maybe the lack of sleep and hormones are getting to me.

Deciding that it was nothing more than me losing my mind, I tug my purse up higher on my shoulder and keep walking. I’m halfway toward Aunt Lena’s cottage already, so I may as well continue.

I’m only torturing myself by walking past it every day, but I can’t help it. Just like always, the draw I feel toward it is magnetic.

I guess I’m just craving a time when life was easier and simpler. When the only thing I had to worry about was what candy Miles and I were going to get on our daily trip to the store and what games we were going to play.

Sounds like the perfect life.

A melancholy sigh passes my lips as I turn the final corner.

Just like every other time I’ve visited, I think I’m prepared for the emotions to bubble up at the thought of never going inside again, but nothing could have prepared me for what I find.

A sold sign.

All the air rushes from my lungs as if someone just took a bat to my chest.

“No,” I cry, wrapping my arms around myself as if they’ll hold me together.

I didn’t even realize it was up for sale.

My vision blurs and tears fill my eyes before spilling free and cascading down my cheeks.

I stumble forward, sniffling like a fool.

I can’t help it.

It’s over.

I thought I was okay with him receiving the divorce papers. I thought I had made the right decision and that letting go couldn’t be any harder than walking away from Kingston last week.

But I underestimated just how painful it would be to know that he agrees with me. That he doesn’t want me.

Maybe he never did.

Maybe it was all an act.

My sobs get louder, and I stand there in the middle of the sidewalk, staring at the house that holds so many of my favorite memories as well as my dreams for the future.

But it’s over. It’s gone.

The cottage I always hoped that would one day be mine is going to belong to someone else, maybe a family.

My breathing is ragged as I try to be happy for whoever has purchased it.

One thing is for sure, they’re going to be so, so happy in that home.

By the time I get back to my rental, the sun is setting, the air is bitterly cold, and my eyes are raw from crying.

It’s just a house.

Bricks and mortar.

But it doesn’t matter how many times I tell myself that, it feels like so much more.

Dumping my purse on the side table in the small hallway, I march straight past the compact kitchen and climb the stairs on exhausted legs.

I strip down to my t-shirt and panties and then crawl straight into bed.

Shivers rack my body and I curl into the tightest ball I can. The second I pull the covers over my head, plunging myself into darkness, I succumb to the devastation.

My sobs are loud, angry, and unstoppable, but I don’t try to stop them.

I need to let it all out. The pain, the fear, the loss.

These past few weeks, from the moment I got the call from Miles to tell me that Dad had died, have been exhausting.

I had no idea that I was holding everything together with a shoestring, but now that it’s snapped, I understand just how fragile my life has become. I was holding onto Kingston in the hope of him keeping me in one piece. But that was never his responsibility.

The only person who can help me deal with all of this is me. And I need to start trying to figure out how to do that so that I can plan my future—our future. It’s not just me I have to worry about now.

My hand moves to my abdomen and another loud sob erupts from my throat.

“Everything is going to be okay,” I whisper into the silence. “We’re going to be okay.” But even as the words leave my lips, knowing that we’re going to have to do it alone…I don’t believe them. And the last thing I want is to be the kind of parent who lets their child down before they’re even here.