The Billionaire's Sudden Bride Chapter 113

**Summer's POV**

I curled deeper into the bedroom armchair, pulling my sweater tighter as I tried to focus on my novel, but the words kept blurring together.

Two weeks since the snake incident, and Brandon had turned into an overprotective guardian. He wouldn't let me do a single household chore—not even loading the dishwasher. Every time I reached for a dirty plate, Brandon would materialize to take it from my hands and give me that commanding look.

I felt useless. And the worst part? I was starting to enjoy being pampered.

The clock showed nearly midnight. Brandon was still in his study working, as usual. My phone buzzed—Grandpa George calling.

"Grandpa!" I greeted. "Everything okay?"

"I’m good." His gruff voice carried its usual blend of affection and impatience. "Victoria and Alexander's wedding is the day after tomorrow."

My stomach did a strange little flip at the names, not from jealousy but from instinct—hearing the two people who had betrayed me so thoroughly.

"Yeah, I know," I replied casually. "I got the invitation."

"Are you doing alright with that?" Concern laced his words. "I know it can't be easy."

I almost laughed at his worry. Alexander and Victoria seemed like characters from another lifetime now.

"Grandpa, I'm completely fine," I assured him. "Honestly, they could get married on the moon and I wouldn't care."

"You sound sincere," he admitted, "but sometimes these things hit us in ways we don't expect."

My heart squeezed with affection for this man who'd always looked out for me. "I love you for caring, Grandpa. But trust me, I'm good. Better than good, actually."

After hanging up, I sat there thinking about his concern. A few months ago, news of their wedding would have devastated me. But now? They were just people who once hurt me but no longer had the power to affect my happiness.

I headed downstairs to the kitchen and prepared some ginger tea. Brandon had been working too hard lately, and though he'd never admit it, I'd noticed the slight roughness in his voice.

Cup in hand, I made my way to his study, finding the door slightly ajar. Brandon sat behind his massive desk, surrounded by documents, his laptop casting a blue glow across his face.

He looked up the moment I entered, those dark eyes instantly finding mine.

"You're still up," he said, attention immediately shifting from work to me.

"How do you always do that? I barely made a sound."

"I felt you," he replied simply.

I rolled my eyes. "Right. Your Brandon-sense was tingling."

The corner of his mouth quirked up in that dangerous half-smile. "Why aren't you in bed?"

"Couldn't sleep," I said, setting the mug on his desk. "Thought you might want some tea."

Brandon eyed it suspiciously. "Is that ginger tea? I'm not sick."

"It's practically winter, and you're working late. Again. Just drink it."

To my surprise, he picked up the mug without further protest and drank the entire thing.

I moved behind him, my hands settling on his shoulders. His muscles were tight with tension beneath my fingers.

"You work too hard," I murmured, thumbs pressing gently against his temples.

Brandon's eyes drifted closed as he relaxed into my touch. "Almost done. Just a few more details."

I took in the fine lines at the corners of his eyes, the slight shadows beneath them. Running Stark Group wasn't just a job—it was his entire life. Plus Stark Entertainment, Christie's, and Manhattan Club.

"Brandon, doesn't it exhaust you? Managing all these different companies?"

"It's fine," he replied, leaning further into my touch.

His hand captured mine suddenly, tugging me around the chair and into his lap.

"June," he murmured, voice low in the quiet study. "Are you worried about me?"

"No," I lied. "I'm just thinking that if even you don't care about your own health, why should I bother?"

"Who says I don't care?" Brandon's eyes were serious. "I'm very invested in my wellbeing."

"Right," I scoffed. "That's why you work until midnight and forget to eat lunch half the time."

He smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "I have you to remind me now."

"You came to my study this late. Was there something you wanted to talk about?"

I bit my lip. "Actually, yes. I was thinking we should visit Grandpa George soon? Officially, I mean."

Brandon's expression shifted slightly, becoming more guarded. "Any particular reason?"

"He called tonight," I explained. "He's worried that Victoria and Alexander's wedding might upset me. I told him I'm fine, but I think it would mean a lot if we visited. To see that I really am happy now."

A subtle tension tightened Brandon's jaw. I couldn't help but smile at his reaction.

"Are you jealous?" I teased, leaning until my forehead rested against his. "Of Alexander?"

"Jealous? What's that? Has June tried it before?"

"No," I replied, playfully pinching his cheek. "But I wouldn't mind if you gave me a taste. If you dare."

"I'll have to consider whether you should sample jealousy," he murmured, capturing my hand. "It might not be to your liking."

"Try me," I challenged. "I dare you."

Outside, waves crashed against the shore. The study was warm, the soft lamp casting a golden glow.

"I want Grandpa to see that I'm happy now," I said quietly. "With you. He's family, and we just up and got married without telling anyone. I want to make it official."

Brandon considered this, his thumb tracing circles on my wrist. "It's time I met him properly," he agreed finally. "You pick the day. I'll clear my schedule."

Relief and happiness bubbled up inside me. "Really? Thank you!" I leaned in and kissed him, a quick press of lips that turned into something deeper.

The study hummed with a primal heat, the air thick between us as Brandon’s dark eyes locked onto mine. Papers cluttered his desk, but they might as well have been ash for all the attention we gave them. I stood before him, heart pounding, as his chair creaked under his weight. The lamp’s golden glow bathed us, shrinking the world to this moment, this room.

"June," he murmured, voice a low, filthy promise, his gaze raking over me like he could fuck me with his eyes alone. "Come here."

I stepped closer, trembling with want, and his hands found my hips, pulling me between his spread thighs. "Touch me," I whispered, voice husky, my fingers already tracing the hard planes of his chest through his shirt, feeling his heartbeat thrum under the expensive fabric.

His breath hitched, and he obeyed, hands sliding up my sides, slow and deliberate, thumbs brushing the undersides of my breasts through my sweater. "You’re driving me fucking crazy," he growled, voice rough with lust as he tugged the hem up, peeling it over my head. The cool air hit my skin, nipples stiffening beneath my bra as I tossed the sweater aside.

I smirked, fingers working his shirt buttons, popping them one by one, exposing the chiseled muscle beneath. "Good," I purred, dragging my nails down his bare chest, circling his nipples until they hardened. "I want you out of your mind." His shirt fell open, and I shoved it off his shoulders, hands roaming the taut ridges of his abs, dipping lower to the bulge straining his pants.