Surrendering to the Billionaire

Mia

I pasted a fake smile on my face as the priest recited the marriage liturgy at my younger sister's wedding. I had to be here. That's what I kept telling myself.

But I hated it.

I hated being dragged into this function. The noise. The flashing lights. The fake compliments. The gossips, oh for fuck's sake, the gossips.

How was I supposed to explain that my younger sister getting married before me didn't bother me? That being the only unmarried one among my four siblings meant nothing to me?

I had tried. I had explained. But all I got were pity looks and useless advice.

If I had to hear one more "Don't worry, you'll find someone," or "I know a great spot for serious hot men," I was going to pop.

And yet when one of my grandaunties tapped me on the shoulder to introduce her friend's son, I didn't snap. I smiled. I said I wasn't looking for a relationship. Her disapproving face didn't faze me.

I turned my attention back to Ariella. She was the reason I was here. Deep breaths, Mia. Deep breaths.

When the priest told the groom to kiss the bride, I joined the crowd in their collective "awww." The groom—Ryan, right—didn't deserve her.

But I never told her what happened the night before.

He had asked me to meet up in private.

"I know you want me. I can see it in your eyes," he said.

His eyes dragged across my body. I felt sick. Still, I kept my face neutral. I stepped closer. Slowly. His eyes lit up.

Then I pulled out my pocket knife and pressed the tip against his dick which deflated instantly.

"You disgust me, Ryan. My utmost wish is that you disappear. Or better, that Ariella sees you for the piece of shit that you are. If this happens again, I'll make sure you regret it. Understand?"

Sweat poured from his face. He looked like he might piss himself. He nodded.

"Yes, I understand. I love Ariella. I just thought..."

"Don't think. Keep her happy."

I stepped back. I put the knife away. But not before slicing a small tear into his trousers.

Finally, the ceremony ended. One part down. I only had to survive the reception.

Ariella walked toward me, her dress flowing around her like she belonged in a movie. Her face glowed with joy. She looked like every love story ever told, all wrapped into one person.

"I can't believe it finally happened, Mia. Oh, I love Ryan so much," she said, practically squealing like a schoolgirl.

I smiled, soft but steady. "I'm happy you're happy, Ari. If you ever need anything, tell me. And if he ever hurts you, you come straight to me. Okay, baby?"

"Nothing will go wrong, Mia. I've finally found true love like Mom did."

Her words hit hard. She meant them. She believed them. I wanted to believe them too.

But hearing our mother's name in that moment made my stomach twist.

Ariella never saw the cracks. None of them did. But I saw the shouting behind closed doors. I saw the fake smiles. I saw the way Mom flinched when Dad walked into the room. She hid the bruises well, not just the physical kind but also the kind that stayed in the eyes.

Out of all four of us, I stayed home the longest. The others couldn't wait to leave, to see the world, to chase freedom. I clung to what I thought was safety. What I thought was peace. But the longer I stayed, the more the house suffocated me. Reality doesn't hide forever.

"Stop zoning out, Mia. It's my day. Be happy for me and dance!" Ariella laughed and grabbed my hand.

She dragged me to the dance floor. For a second, I laughed too.

Then she saw Ryan across the room and ran straight to him. Let go of me without a word. No warning.

I stumbled forward. Off balance. I thought I'd fall.

I closed my eyes. Braced for the cold floor.

But I hit something else.

Hard. Warm.

A chest.

The scent of lavender cologne filled my nose. Subtle. Clean. Comforting in a way that made me want to sink into it.

My eyes snapped open.

I had slammed right into someone's body. Male. Solid.

I looked up.

He towered over me. At least two heads taller. His frame cast a shadow over mine. Strong hands steadied me, firm but gentle.

Dark eyes met mine. Calm. Curious. Focused.

I flinched. "Sorry," I muttered and tried to step back.

But his hand didn't let go.

"Dance with me," he said.

His voice was low. Steady. It had weight. Like he didn't ask twice.

I should have said no. But I didn't say no.

I let him turn me around. He placed one hand on my waist, the other took my hand. Close, but not too close. Still, I felt the heat of his body through my dress. It sent tingles all through my body.

I looked up at him again.

He was beautiful.

Blonde hair, soft and wild at the top, short at the sides. Dark eyes under thick brows, locked on mine like he was trying to figure me out. His nose was straight. His cheekbones sharp. His jaw looked like it had been carved with intention. His lips were full, unreadable. He had smooth bronze skin stretched over a frame that looked like it belonged on a statue.

Tall. Broad. Built like someone who didn't have to try hard to draw stares.

Everything about him was wrong for me.

Too perfect. Too much. Too tempting.

Since when did I find men breathtaking?

Maybe when I was sixteen. When I still believed in the true love I thought my parents had.

But now all I could see were flaws and future disappointment.

So why couldn't I look away from this man?

Why did my heart pound like it forgot everything I already knew?