The Billionaire's Accidental Bride

CHAPTER FOUR

This Can’t Be Real Cole’s smirk deepened. “Rules, huh? This should be fun.” I kept my chin up. “No touching. No kissing. And no sharing a bed.” He folded his arms. “You do realize we’re supposed to be a married couple?” “I’ll play my part,” I said, walking past him, “but I’m not yours.” He followed me to the suite’s living room. “My assistant will draw up the contract. You’ll move in tonight.” “Tonight?” I echoed. “There’s a gala tomorrow. Press will be there. You’ll wear a dress, smile, and pretend you’re crazy about me.” I narrowed my eyes. “And what will you pretend?” He stepped closer, his voice low. “That I don’t regret kissing you that night.” I blinked. “That was the tequila talking,” I snapped. He grinned. “Then maybe we should test that theory—sober.” I walked out, ignoring the heat in my chest. This was a job. A deal. Nothing more. Hours later, I arrived at his Manhattan penthouse. Marble floors. Gold elevators. Glass walls with a view of the entire city. It screamed power. And danger. A housekeeper greeted me. “Your room is ready, Mrs. Hart.” I stiffened at the title. Then Cole appeared from the hallway, holding a wine glass. “Welcome home,” he said smoothly. “And by the way,” he added, sipping, “we have to share a room.” I dropped my suitcase. “What?”