The Billionaire Married Me for Revenge

Prologue

~ Camilla's POV~

I heard the click of my heels before I heard the airport.

That sharp, impatient rhythm followed me across the terminal floor, cutting through the hum of voices and rolling suitcases. My carry-on kept slipping from my shoulder, my suitcase dragged like it resented me, and all I could think was that I was one mistake away from disaster.

Not because I overslept.

Well... not exactly.

Last night had been worth every stolen minute of sleep. Skin on skin. Words breathed so close they were more felt than heard. I'd fallen asleep in my fiancé's arms and woken still tasting him on my lips.

My father wouldn't forgive me if I missed this flight. This trip wasn't for fun, it was for business. His business. Chicago, a meeting with one of the company's top marketing teams. Every seat at that table had weight, and mine had been hard-earned. Missing it wasn't an option.

The departure board flickered ahead, taunting me with the minutes I was running out of. I picked up my pace, heat gathering under my collar.

At the counter, I set my suitcase upright, forcing my voice to sound steady. "Please tell me you have a seat left on the eight-thirty to Chicago."

The woman behind the glass didn't look up right away. Her manicured nails tapped against the keyboard in an unhurried rhythm, each click a reminder that she wasn't the one in a rush.

"I don't care where it is," I added, leaning forward slightly. "I just need to be on that flight."

Her gaze finally lifted, cool and impersonal. "One seat left. Standby only. No guarantee."

Standby wasn't perfect, but it was better than missing the meeting. "I'll take it."

The transaction was quick, and the ticket felt like a fragile lifeline in my hand. I moved toward security, my bag bouncing against my hip. My phone buzzed from inside it, and I reached for the zipper. It caught halfway, teeth locking stubbornly. I slowed to wrestle it open, muttering under my breath.

That pause was all it took.

I collided with someone hard. The jolt rattled through my shoulder, the handle of my suitcase slipping from my grasp. The bitter scent of coffee hit me before the heat did. It splashed across my blouse, soaking through to my skin in a burst of sharp, scalding pain.

"Ow!" I gasped, clutching at the damp fabric.

"Are you blind?" The voice was deep, smooth, and laced with irritation.

I looked up, ready to apologize, but the sight of him killed the words. Tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in a navy suit that fit like it had been made for him. He stood there as if the terminal bent around him, as if the rushing crowd were nothing more than background noise to his world.

"That question should be answered by you," I shot back, brushing at my soaked blouse. My skin stung, but my temper burned hotter. "Were your eyes at the back of your head?"