By His Vow: A Billionaire Arranged Marriage Romance

I wake clinging to the edge of the bed with my ass sticking out of the covers.

The fuck?

Opening my eyes, I reach for my cell, killing the alarm before glancing to the other side of the bed.

It’s empty.

“Fuck,” I breathe as memories from the night before come back to me. Although I must admit, some of it is hazy.

I try to shift farther onto the bed, but something stops me.

Looking down, I find that one part of my night was very real.

A curled-up cat is sleeping where my legs should be.

“You have got to be shitting me,” I complain.

As if the thing has been waiting for me to wake up and find it, one eye opens slowly. She glares at me, almost as terrifying with one eye as she is with two, before closing it again as if she’s bored of me already.

“Fucking cat,” I mutter as I slip out of bed and march toward the bathroom.

I glance at the wall where Tatum was last night as I dropped to my knees for her, and then at the toilet where she patched me up and sucked me dry.

Fuck me, that was good.

The end of my night was unexpected. I might have stumbled in here desperate for her, but I was sure we were in for a fight.

I guess I have the stupid cat to thank for that.

Her appearance certainly was a distraction, although I’m not sure if it was a good one or not.

I love fighting with Tatum, and I certainly had a lot of things to say after everything that went down yesterday.

I put myself through the shower and freshen up before selecting a suit and then following the scent of coffee that wafts through the apartment.

It’s not a smell I’m used to experiencing here, but I can’t say it’s one I dislike.

I might want her to think more about what she puts in her body—seriously hypocritical after the amount of whiskey I drank last night, but whatever—but even I can appreciate good coffee when I find it.

The apartment is still in darkness as I descend the stairs, and my brows pinch. Surely she hasn’t left, abandoning Satan in bed with me?

It’s not until I hit the bottom step that I realize she is here. She’s sitting with only her cell screen for light at the kitchen counter with a coffee mug before her.

“Good morning, ba⁠—”

“Who is she?” she demands before I even get my first sentence out.

“Uh…who is what?” I ask, confused.

Moving closer, I find that Tatum is on Google, and almost all of the photographs she’s scrolling through are of me and a woman.

Some I recognize, many I don’t. Internally, I cringe.

“What are you doing?” I ask, although, I think it’s pretty obvious.

“Trying to find her,” she explains as she keeps scrolling.

“Good luck with that,” I muse, walking around her to the refrigerator to get my juice.

“Who is she, Kingston?”

I smirk. I can’t help it. Hearing the jealousy in her tone does things to me.

“Who is Cory Denham?” I counter.

In all honesty, I know the answer. That went to the top of my to-do list pretty quickly after watching the way they were dancing together.

“A friend,” she explains.

“A friend who wants to fuck you,” I add, feeling the same green-eyed monster growl in my stomach that infiltrated her voice a few seconds ago.

“Kingston, the whole city—hell, the entire fucking country—knows that I’m wearing your ring. I don’t think you need to worry that⁠—”

“I’ll always worry,” I blurt without thinking.

Her eyes widen in surprise.

“You’re mine, Tatum. And last night you went out and got drunk with another man.” Her eyebrows shoot up.

“Oh no, you do not get to stand there and say things like that when you did exactly the same thing,” she argues.

“You don’t need to worry about Aubrey. She doesn’t want to fuck me. Unlike your little friend.”

Her nostrils flare as she glares at me.

“There was no chance of that happening,” she seethes.

“Good to know,” I state, twisting the top of my juice bottle off and lifting it to my lips. “But you have fucked him, have you not?” My voice is cold and hard. It tells her all she needs to know about my understanding of this subject.

She wants to lie. I can see it in her eyes.

“Yes,” she finally confesses. “I’ve slept with him. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“No, Tatum. It is the opposite of what I want to hear.”

“So?”

“So what?”

She fumes. Her eyes narrow and her cheeks redden. It’s so fucking hot it’s amazing that I manage to refrain from bending her over the counter and fucking her right here and now to prove my point about who she belongs to.

Reaching down, I adjust my hardening dick.

“Who is she, Kingston?”

“Aubrey Kendrick,” I explain, holding her eyes so she can see the truth in them. “She’s…a mercenary.”

Tatum rears back in surprise.

“A mercenary?”

“Yes. We met at an event a few years ago. She’s a useful contact to have. Knows a lot of people.”

Tatum’s mouth opens and closes, but no words spill free.

“She’s good people.”

“She kills people for money.”

“Bad people,” I correct. “Mostly men. She seduces them, makes them think they’re special, and then, well…ruins them, mostly.”

“And you’re going to try to convince me that you haven’t slept with a woman who seduces men for money?”

“I’m not trying to convince you of anything, Tatum.”

“So you have slept with her.”

“A long time ago, yes. Once. We’ve had a platonic friendship ever since.”

She shakes her head. “You’re so full of shit I’m amazed it isn’t spilling from your ears.”

“I’m not lying to you, baby.”

She hops up from the stool and angrily shoves it under the counter.

“Do you know what? I don’t give a shit. Do what you want, Kingston. That’s what our contract states, doesn’t it? You can go out there and get your rocks off with anyone you want while I’ve got to sit here playing the part of the good little wife. It’s only a year. I can cope.

“I don’t need your shit, your dick, or your fucking attitude problem. I’ve got everything I could need. My life was perfectly fine before you forced your way into it.”

She storms toward the stairs, a loud huff of irritation trailing behind her.

“You don’t have everything though, do you, Tatum? That’s why you agreed to this,” I helpfully point out.

“Get fucked, Kingston,” she hisses as she begins climbing.

“Don’t take too long. We have an appointment in forty-five minutes.”

“I have meetings all morning,” she calls back.

“No, you don’t. They have been rearranged to fit in the appointment we should have had last night.”

A cry of frustration floats down to me before the bedroom door slams hard enough to make the walls shake.

Well. That went well…

“Why are we here?” Tatum demands as Lewis pulls up in front of The Broadway.

“Come on,” I say, pushing the door open and then helping her out.

With our fingers entwined, we make our way to reception. There are more than a few interested sets of eyes that follow us as I lead her toward the elevator.

We step inside with a handful of others. which stops her from demanding answers to all the questions I see spinning around in her head.Content is © by NôvelDrama.Org.

If it weren’t for her stunt yesterday, she’d know exactly what was happening. But seeing as she fucked up our first meeting before dismissing me as if I’m nothing to her, keeping her in the dark for a little longer doesn’t bother me.

In only minutes we approach the room I have booked, and after knocking once, I push the door open and gesture for her to enter.

“Ah, Miss Warner, Mr. Callahan. It’s so wonderful to meet you,” a woman of a similar age to our mothers greets as she pushes to her feet and holds her hand out for us to shake. “I’m Mia Simmons, and I’m your wedding planner. I’m so excited to finalize the details and make your day everything you’ve been dreaming of.”

Tatum shoots me a death glare, but I don’t turn to look at her. Instead, I gesture for her to sit on the opposite couch to Mia before taking my place beside her.

“Would you like tea, dear?” Mia asks, lifting the teapot between us.

“Um…sure,” she agrees.

“Mr. Callahan.”

“Thank you,” I say with a smile.

She makes quick work of pouring our drinks before setting her eyes on Tatum.

“Now, I will say I’ve been given some deadlines in my time, but I think this one might be up there with the most challenging.”

Tatum’s brow wrinkles as she tries to figure out the woman’s words.

“But I have every confidence in my suppliers. You will both have the most incredible day next Saturday.”

“Next Saturday?” Tatum blurts, her ass lifting from the couch as if she has every intention of running away.

My grip on her hand tightens, a silent warning to play the game.

She shoots me a look, one that might make a lesser man cower, but not me. I’ll stare her down all day long quite happily.

“Oh my goodness,” she finally whispers. “I just can’t believe it’s only next week. Crazy, right?”

The wedding planner wants to agree; it’s right there in her eyes, but she wisely keeps her mouth shut on the subject.

I haven’t hired the best for no reason.

“It’s exciting,” she says instead, with a wide smile.

“Okay, so Mr. Callahan–”

“Kingston, please,” I say softly.

She nods, smiling at me. “Kingston has already explained some of your wishes, and I’d like to go over those now along with the finer details of the day.”

“Of course,” Tatum says through gritted teeth, her grip on my hand tightening, her nails digging into my skin in punishment.

We sit there for an hour talking about flower arrangements, colors, bridesmaid dresses, groomsmen suits, cakes, and what feels like a million other things I’ve never cared about in my life.

Due to the fact I blindsided Tatum with this and she now wants to punish me in any way possible, I’m forced to give way more input than I’m sure most soon-to-be grooms would. But that’s okay, I’m happy to take some of the weight.

“Okay,” Mia says flicking through her notes one last time. “I think that’s everything for now. I will get you an appointment for dress fittings and I’ll email that over to you before the end of the day. And then I’ll be in contact to confirm everything we’ve discussed here.” She pauses and looks between the two of us with a soft smile playing on her lips and a glint in her eyes. If I didn’t already know it from her job, it’s now more than obvious that this woman is a sucker for a wedding. “This is going to be a truly beautiful day for the two of you. I can see how excited you both are.”

I almost bark out laughing at her blatant lie. Tatum has not been the excited bride-to-be that I’m sure she’s used to experiencing, that’s for sure.

In truth, she was probably more enthusiastic planning her father’s funeral.

“Thank you so much for rearranging at short notice,” I say as we rise to say our goodbyes.

“No problem. Have a wonderful day both of you. I’ll be in touch.”

Without another word, she slips from the room. The second the door closes behind her, Tatum turns her furious stare on me.

“Next Saturday. Are you serious?”

I hold her stare. “We have to be married for one year to meet the terms of your father’s will, Tatum. The longer we wait, the longer we’ve got to be together.”

Her expression falters for the briefest moment, it’s so fast, I almost question whether I saw it or not. But I definitely did.

“And we don’t want to extend that any longer than necessary. I need to get to work, Kingston. I have a life outside of becoming your wife and I’d like to return to it.”

Forcing a smile onto my face, I gesture toward the doors. “My pleasure, baby.”

“Don’t,” she hisses, jumping forward and out of reach the second I press my hand to the small of her back.

My smile grows.

Oh, how I missed my defiant little brat.