The Billionaire's Bought Bride and Instant Mom Chapter 155

Orion

The moment I settled into the driver's seat and closed the car door, I felt my entire body relax. The mask I'd worn for the past two hours—the cold, calculating businessman who could destroy a man's life without blinking—finally slipped away.

*God, I hate that part of the job.*

I loosened my tie and reached for the sound system, scrolling until I found something upbeat and energetic. As the music filled the car, I couldn't help but smile. In terms of business deals, today's transaction was barely a blip on my radar—I'd closed deals worth hundreds of millions without breaking a sweat. But this one? This one felt like a victory.

*Because it's for her.*

The thought brought with it a complicated mix of satisfaction and guilt. Part of me did feel sorry for failing businesses, for entrepreneurs who'd watched their dreams crumble. But when I remembered Richard Hartwell's face six years ago—the cold calculation in his eyes as he'd sold his own stepdaughter like she was livestock—any sympathy I might have felt evaporated.

*He made his bed. Now he can lie in it.*

Twenty minutes later, I was pulling into my driveway, already anticipating a quiet evening with Ryan. Mitchell appeared at the door as always, ready to take my suit jacket and help me transition from corporate shark back to single father.

"Evening, sir," he said, accepting my jacket and waiting as I switched from dress shoes to comfortable house slippers. "How did your business meeting go?"

"Better than expected," I said, and I was about to elaborate when the sound of an engine roaring up my driveway made me frown.

"Who the hell drives like that?" I muttered, moving to the window to see what maniac was treating my neighborhood like a racetrack.

The answer made my pulse spike unexpectedly.

Aveline's car was pulling up to my front door, and I could see Ryan's excited face pressed against the passenger window.

*She's here.*

Suddenly I had a dozen things I wanted to tell her. About how smoothly the plan had worked, about how Richard had walked right into the trap, about how soon she'd have her grandmother's company back. I wanted to ask why she was dropping Ryan off, whether she had time to stay for dinner, whether she'd thought about me today even half as much as I'd thought about her.

*Most of all, I want to tell her I missed her.*

But before I could organize my thoughts, Ryan came bounding through the front door like a human tornado.

"Dad! Dad! Miss Aveline picked me up from school and we got ice cream and she knows all the words to the songs on the radio and—"

"Master Ryan," Mitchell interrupted smoothly, "didn't you want to show me that new drawing you made in art class? I believe it's upstairs in your backpack."

I shot Mitchell a look that clearly said *I see what you're doing,* but the old man just smiled innocently as he guided Ryan away from the foyer.

*Subtle as a brick, Mitchell.*

Then Aveline was walking through my door with that confident stride that always made me forget how to think properly. She looked like she'd come straight from work—professional but slightly windblown, with that energy she got when she was in problem-solving mode.

"So," she said without preamble, "how did it go today? Please tell me you have good news."

I couldn't help the satisfied smile that crossed my face. "The net is cast. Now we just wait for the fish to swim right into it."

"Yes!" She actually clapped her hands together, then reached out to pat my shoulder with the kind of casual familiarity that made my chest warm. "I knew leaving this to a professional was the right call. This is why you're the CEO and I'm just a teacher."

"Please," I said, trying to play it cool despite the way her praise affected me. "Flattery will get you nowhere."

"Who said anything about flattery? I'm just stating facts." She grinned at me, and I felt that familiar flutter in my stomach that I was getting entirely too used to. "Speaking of which—thanks for letting me bring Ryan home. I hope you don't mind that I picked him up from school."

I moved to the bar cart to pour myself some water, partially to give my hands something to do. "Not at all. Though I have to ask—aren't you worried about people seeing us together? About what they might think our relationship is?"

Aveline opened her mouth, clearly about to say something like "what relationship?" but then she caught herself, a slight blush creeping up her neck.

"Well," she said, "I guess we do have some kind of... mutually beneficial arrangement. Right?"

I nearly dropped my glass.

*You're my wife, you beautiful, oblivious woman. You're my WIFE.*

The words were right there on the tip of my tongue, desperate to be spoken. But I couldn't say them. Not yet. Not until she was ready to hear them.

Instead, I just rubbed my forehead in frustration.

"What's wrong?" Aveline asked, tilting her head to study my expression. "You look like someone just gave you a migraine. Don't tell me you're having 'needs' again—I told you I'm going home to spend time with my grandmother tonight."

*If only it were that simple.*

"Maybe," I said quietly, "we could think about making this more... official."

"What?" She leaned closer, obviously not catching my mumbled words. "Speak up—I can't hear you."

I looked at her expectant face, at those bright eyes that held absolutely no recognition of what we really were to each other, and felt my courage desert me completely.

"I said you should go home to your grandmother," I said with a sigh. "Give her my regards."

"Will do!" Aveline said cheerfully, already heading toward the door. She paused to flip her hair over her shoulder in that unconsciously elegant way she had. "Thanks again for today. You're officially my hero."

And then she was gone, leaving me standing in my foyer with a glass of water and the overwhelming urge to tell the world that I was completely, hopelessly in love with my own wife.

*One day,* I told myself. *One day I'll find the courage to tell her the truth.*

But not today.