Left At The Altar: Marrying The Billionaire

own failure. Amaris stood in the living room, her eyes scan

at the Met Gala. Skiing in Aspen. Kissing on a yacht in t

ame. She didn't look at the picture. She just dropped it int

rame after frame went into the bin. She d

cked quickly-jeans, t-shirts, her running shoes. Essentials. She lef

t box. It was a gift for their first anniversary. She stared at it f

orbell

e men in black suits. No logos, no

d man said, nodd

m the suitcase

se the door behind her. She dropped the apartment k

st a house; it was a fortress. Wrought-iron gates swung open as the car appr

," he said, his tone perfectly balanced

It was massive, decorated in shades of charcoal and steel.

dow, a phone pressed to his ear. "No, buy the shares. I don't ca

er single suitcase. A flicker of something-disap

nd picked up a thick manila

ial agreemen

use the Lowe name for business. She couldn't appear on reality TV. She couldn't d

onthly allowance that was hers to keep, no questions asked. If they divorced, she walk

yes narrowing. "Why

nk. "Lowe family rules.

he was selling her freedom, but she was buyin

ck. He pointed to a door on

er and opened th

s, all in her exact size. A glass case filled with vintage watches and jewelry she had only ever seen in magazine

nd brushing against a silk b

id from the doorway. "I d

much. Too fast. But she w

of a dining table that could seat twenty. The only sounds were

was tied in knots. She picked up her knife and fork, but her hands were still shaky

length of the table, his footsteps heavy on

ned, expectin

. With easy, practiced movements, he sliced the steak into bite-sized pie

t walked back to his seat and

unding in her ears. That wasn't a transacti

to the bedroom door. He stopped,

he said, hi

is leaned back against the wood, her mind racing. This marriage was sup