The Billionaire I Married by Mistake

12. TALK

|Javier|

“We need to talk first,” I said as soon as we stepped through the doors of the penthouse.

I came to a halt, expecting her to stop and acknowledge me—but she didn’t. Without so much as a glance in my direction, she walked right past me and headed for the living room like she owned the place. She tossed her bouquet carelessly onto the couch, kicked off her heels with a sigh, and collapsed onto the cushions in one fluid motion.

I stood there watching her, the corner of my mouth lifting in amusement. She looked far too comfortable, like this was her sanctuary.

Well… it would be. Eventually.

“What is it?” she muttered, her eyes still shut, voice laced with fatigue. She looked like she hadn’t slept in days.

I stepped forward, keeping my tone firm. “We need to talk about our arrangement. We’re meeting my parents soon, and I expect us to present ourselves accordingly.”

She let out a soft breath and waved a hand lazily in the air, as if brushing away a fly. “Whatever it is, I’ll go along with it,” she said, like it was the easiest thing in the world.

I didn’t move. I just stared at her.

This wasn’t something I could afford to take lightly—and I didn’t want her to, either.

I walked toward her slowly. When I reached her, I knelt slightly, took her hands in mine, and guided her up into a sitting position. She blinked, startled by the sudden shift. Her lips parted in surprise, and her brows knit together in confusion.

Strands of hair slipped loose from behind her ears, brushing against her cheeks as she straightened.

“What the hell? Can’t you see I’m trying to get some rest?” she snapped, her voice sharp and laced with irritation.

My jaw tensed as I stood my ground, my eyes narrowing as I met her glare head-on. I run my fingers through my hair. “I’m speaking to you,” I said, my tone low but firm. “And when I do, I expect your attention—not this attitude.”

She let out an exaggerated sigh and rolled her eyes like a rebellious teenager, folding her arms tightly across her chest as she turned away from me with a look of complete indifference.

“So what is it, then?” she said coldly, her voice dripping with annoyance. “What exactly do you want to talk about now?”

I inhaled deeply, doing my best to rein in the frustration clawing its way up my throat. Every part of this conversation was grating on my nerves. She was being difficult—again—and it was taking every ounce of patience I had not to lose it.

Goddamn it, Gabriel better be ready. I will make sure you will pay hell for what you have chosen for me.

I sat down slowly, placing myself directly across from her, hoping the slight shift in posture would help cool the rising tension.

“When you meet my parents,” I began carefully, keeping my voice as calm and composed as possible, “I need you to act appropriately. Be respectful. Mind your words and tone.”

That got her attention.

She shifted slightly, her brows drawing together as she turned her head to finally face me.

“Obviously,” she said with a clipped tone. “What do you think I’m going to do—throw a tantrum at the dinner table? I don’t exactly want your parents to hate me and demand an annulment before we even finish dessert.”

I let out a slow breath through my nose.

Well, that’s something, I thought. At least we’re on the same page about one thing.

“That’s good to hear,” I said, keeping my tone even. “We’ll stick with the original arrangement. It’s an arranged marriage. Yours needed my help, and this was the price.”

That was exactly what Gabriel said to me the moment I walked inside my penthouse, fresh off a red-eye flight from a week-long business trip. He said I was going to like the woman he found for me—because she needed help.

A transactional marriage. Simple. Clean. Beneficial.

When he mentioned her pedigree—that she was the sole heir to a crumbling corporate empire—I’ll admit, it piqued my interest. There’s a certain power in being owed something, especially by someone used to being on top. A woman with everything to lose is less likely to put up a fight. Less likely to defy me.

At least, that’s what I thought.

But now, sitting across from her, I realized Gabriel might’ve overlooked something important. Something critical.

Her personality.

I had trusted him. Explicitly. When I asked him to find me a wife, I gave him clear instructions—no drama, no fire. I wanted someone quiet, discreet. Someone who wouldn’t disturb the rhythm of my life. I didn’t want love. I didn’t even want companionship. I wanted compliance.

Instead, I got… her.

And she had a mouth on her. Sharp. Unapologetic. She questioned my decisions like she had every right to, like she hadn’t just walked into this mess owing me everything.

I ran a hand down my face, exhaling slowly. The signs were there, even before the wedding. I could’ve called it off. Hell, I should’ve. But I didn’t. And I don’t know why.

Now I’m questioning everything.

And that? That’s not me.

I don’t waver. I don’t second-guess. I make decisions and I follow through, with clarity and conviction. That’s how I’ve built everything I have. But this time… this woman… she’s already unraveling me.

I leaned back slightly, studying her as she looked away. How the hell did Gabriel even know her?

More importantly—why didn’t I know that he knew her?

I hadn’t even seen her until this morning—until she walked down the aisle in that ivory silk gown, ten minutes late. I’d been seated early, in my usual fashion. The priest was already there. The ceremony was scheduled for six a.m. sharp, as I’d planned.

And she made us wait.

Ten minutes.

I could’ve canceled everything right then. But I didn’t. I told myself there had to be a reason. Maybe traffic. Maybe nerves. I gave her grace I didn’t usually give anyone.

Then she stepped into the church.

And I froze.

It was her. The woman I’d spent one impulsive night with just a few weeks ago—the one I thought I’d never see again.

And now, she was my bride.

She looked just as stunned as I felt. Her steps faltered slightly when our eyes met, and I knew instantly—Gabriel had kept this from me. On purpose or by mistake, I wasn’t sure. But the damage had been done.

What were the odds? What were the actual, statistical chances of something like this happening?

I let out another breath, slow and heavy, as the realization settled over me like a cold fog.

The world is small. Uncomfortably small.

“If anyone asks, that’s the story,” I continued. “But we’ll add a layer to it. We’ll say we’ve known each other for a while, kept in touch over the past weeks. And eventually…” My voice trailed off. “We fell in love. Or something like that.”

Her face twisted at that last part, as if the words tasted bitter on her tongue. I felt the same. We both knew it was a lie, dressed up to look romantic. But between this and letting Nicolas get his hands on the company, I didn’t have much of a choice.

She looked down, her voice barely audible. “What else?”

I didn’t answer right away. My gaze lingered on her face, her uncertainty matching mine. This wasn’t how things were supposed to unfold. But here we were.

“We’ll talk about the rest after we meet my parents,” I said finally. “There’s also a chance we’ll have to stay at the ancestral house tonight. I’ll be introducing you to them… as my wife.”

Just saying those words aloud made me sigh heavily. I could already picture my mother’s startled expression, the way her brows would lift in disbelief. My father, though—he’d nod, probably say something about his belief.

Because once we’re there, they won’t let us leave right away. No, they’ll want to talk to her, the same way they did when Nicolas brought home his bride.

I clenched my jaw at the thought of him. And now… I couldn’t help but wonder—what exactly was dad’s condition for him to be named the next head of the company?

But I wasn’t about to back down—not now. Not after everything.

“Fine,” she muttered, dragging the word out as I blinked away the thoughts spinning in my head. “I already said I’m okay with whatever this plan is.”

Her voice—sharp, slightly whiny—snapped me out of my haze. I didn’t bother responding further. There was nothing left to say, really. Instead, I pushed myself off the sofa and started toward the staircase, my steps heavy with impatience.

Halfway up, I slowed and glanced back over my shoulder. She was still draped over the couch like she had no idea what time it was—or didn’t care.

“Aren’t you going to change?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

Her head jerked up. Her eyes found mine with a snap, the defiance in them as clear as ever. For a second, I thought she might throw another sarcastic remark my way, but she didn’t. She just stared. Hard.

I didn’t stick around to see if she’d move. I turned and continued climbing the stairs. Honestly, I assumed she’d stay where she was—stretch out on the couch, maybe scroll through her phone, waste a few more minutes just to spite me.

But then I heard her footsteps behind me, quiet but purposeful. When I reached the hallway outside my room, I turned slightly—there she was, already standing a few steps away.

“Do you even have women’s clothes here?” she asked, her tone laced with dry sarcasm, a small smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

I gave her a look. Cold. Unbothered. “That’s my sister’s room,” I said, pointing to the door next to mine. “Pick anything that fits.”

Without waiting for a reply, I opened the door to my room and stepped inside. The door clicked softly behind me.

There wasn’t much time. My dad and I had agreed to be home by eight, and the clock on my desk read seven-oh-five. The drive would eat up more than an hour if traffic decided to be a nightmare—which, knowing this city, it probably would.

I changed quickly, not bothering to iron out the creases on my shirt. We weren’t aiming for perfection tonight. Just appearances.

To my surprise, Katherine didn’t take long either. Within a few minutes, she stepped out of my sister’s room dressed simply, but well. She didn’t say a word, and neither did I. We just headed out, walking side by side like we’d done this a thousand times before.

On the road, the silence between us settled like fog. She leaned against the car door, her head tilted against the window, her reflection cast in faint gray by the streetlights. Her eyes were distant, her thoughts clearly elsewhere. Somewhere I couldn’t reach.

I glanced at her—once, then twice—before snapping my gaze back to the road. I sighed quietly and leaned my elbow against the window, pressing my knuckles to my temple. My eyes followed the curve of the asphalt ahead, but my mind drifted backward—to earlier today. To everything that led to this mess.

And in the corner of that mess, one name echoed again and again.

Gabriel.

I clenched the steering wheel tighter.

He’d better be ready.

Because the next time I see him, he’s not walking away without giving me answers.