Forced to Wed: A Billionaire's Romance

Sarah Whitmore, 19 years old. I am walking down the aisle. My heart is pounding against my chest as I am walking towards Jared Collins, the love of my life. He is looking devilishly handsome in his Navy blue tuxedo, and his hair is swept back like the prince charming. Alright, so it's not actually my wedding day. And technically, I'm just sitting on my bed, lost in my own wild thoughts. But let me tell you, I've been obsessing over Jared since the third grade, and in my imagination, our wedding day is constantly playing out. I know, I know, call me a hopeless romantic or a certified weirdo, but hey, this is who I am - a dedicated dreamer! "Jared," I whisper his name like a prayer. I imagined the way he would look at me on our wedding day, his warm brown eyes filling with pride and adoration, his strong hands holding mine with devotion and..." "SARAH!" My eyes snap open as my father's loud voice breaks the spell. Dammit, I was just about to get to the good part! "Sarah," my fathe

SarahIt turns out the store is fresh out of ugly dresses, so I settle for a beautiful wedding gown with delicate lace and intricate beadwork. The dress is a vision of elegance, featuring a sweetheart neckline that accentuates my figure and a flowing A-line skirt that trails gracefully behind me.It's so beautiful it makes me sick to my stomach.Natalie's eyes widen with surprise and delight when I come out to show off. "Sarah, you look absolutely breathtaking!"I don't share the same enthusiasm as her. "I guess since I am going to be the sacrificial lamb, I might as well become one in a dress like this," I say grimly.Natalie snorts. "Come on, Sarah, it's not that bad. At least the man you are marrying is a total stud."I glare at her. "A stud who just marched in and assaulted my lips and walked away without a second look. I think I am marrying a psychopath, Natalie."Natalie looks thoughtful. "He does kind of give me the Patrick Bateman vibe."Oh, dear lord, I am so screwed!"Ahem"

SarahThe presidential honeymoon suite at the hotel is unlike anything I have ever seen before. As soon as I walked through the door, I let out a low whistle of amazement.The room is spacious, with high ceilings and large windows. The walls are painted a soft cream color, and the furniture is all made of rich, dark wood."What a beautiful room!" I chirp.Vincent doesn't even crack a smile. He looks less than impressed, as if we had just walked into Motel 6.The bed is the centerpiece of the room, a king-size four-poster with a thick, plush mattress and silky sheets. I can't help but think that this is something straight out of a romance novel.I look at the rose petals scattered all over the room and a giant jacuzzi tub that looks inviting. I gulp. Is he going to expect me to get in it later?I slowly walk over to the bed and sit down, my heart thumping in my chest. I hear Vincent walking over to me, and I want to get up and hurl my body out the window. I can't bear the thought of gi

SarahI slap my palm against his muscular chest before he enters me. "Please wait," I plead meekly."Wait? What for? Are you trying to stall again? His deep blue eyes glare at me suspiciously."While you...um...enter me, I want you to kiss me again like you did in that store," I say in an almost pleading voice."What?" He looks at me like I am speaking a foreign language."I'd never been kissed like that before, and it was...nice," I say. If he kisses me, at least I can pretend to feel like he likes me.Sad, I know.Vincent's eyebrows furrow as he considers my request, his dark eyes flickering with a mix of confusion and something else I can't quite decode. After a moment's hesitation, he lets out a deep sigh and leans closer, his warm breath ghosting over my lips."Fine," he mutters, his voice gruff with annoyance. "But don't get any ideas, princess. It's just a damn kiss."My heart skips a beat as he closes the distance between us, his lips pressing against mine. The touch is nothin

Vincent Sterling, 35 years old..My perfectly smooth brow crinkles in frustration, and my jaw tenses as I fight to suppress the irritation that boils within me toward my new wife. Ever since I met her, she seems to always know how to push my buttons. Right now, here she is, rolling around in sheets like a weirdo.My frustration deepens as I watch her seemingly carefree antics. "What the hell are you doing?""These sheets are so soft! I want to be wrapped in them like a burrito. What's the thread count on these bad boys?" she asks."What is wrong with her?" I mutter, my tone a mix of disbelief and annoyance.She giggles, seemingly amused at my reaction. "Come on, Hubby, it's so cozy! Join me!"I clench my jaw. "Don't call me Hubby.""What am I supposed to call you then? Daddy?" she asks."Vincent, just call me Vincent. Now get up. You are acting like a fool," I order."No. I think I will call you Daddy since you are old enough to be my Sugar Daddy. Also, I think I will take a nap now,"