Marrying His Billionaire Nemesis

Seven years. Then Julian Fu got bored and traded me in for someone younger. I didn't scream. I didn't throw anything. I didn't beg.

I cut up the wedding dress I'd bought to propose to him, left my ring on the table, and took the last flight out of New York at 2 a.m.

His friends opened a betting pool on how fast I'd come crawling back. Julian just laughed, slow and certain. "Three days.

She'll be back, crying, begging me to take her." Three days passed. Then three more. Nothing from me. Not a call. Not a text.

So Julian, who had never once chased anyone in his life, finally broke and called me himself. "Cecilia." His voice had gone soft, almost gentle. "Stop sulking and come home—" The voice that answered him wasn't mine.

It was a man's. Low. Amused. In no hurry at all. "She can't come to the phone, Julian. She cried herself to sleep. Still furious with me, if you want the truth." A pause.

You could hear the smile in it. "Free advice, since you're paying for it too late. You don't leave a woman waiting by the phone all night.

Someone faster comes along and closes while you're still rehearsing the apology." Julian's voice cracked. "Put Cecilia on. Now." "She'll call you back.

Or she won't." Desmond Shen said it the way a man closes a contract he already won. "Either way. That's her call. Not yours.

And not mine." Then, lower, away from the phone, just for me. "Come here. You can stay mad at me in the morning." Chapter 1 "Cecilia?

God, I got bored of her years ago." I heard it through the halfopen door before I even made it into the room. Julian's voice, lazy around a cigarette. "Seven years.

You telling me you wouldn't be bored?" I was standing in the hallway with a garment bag over my arm. A wedding dress inside it.

Six months of waiting and every ounce of nerve I had, and I'd come tonight to ask him to marry me. The men laughed. "Fair.

Seven years, even a goddess goes stale." "She's still gorgeous, though. That dress at your birthday? Every guy in the room forgot how to blink." "Be honest, man.

You were obsessed with her once. You're really done?" "When have I ever lied," Julian said. A beat.

Then one of them, halfjoking. "So you wouldn't mind if I took a shot at her?" "Go for it." Julian blew a slow ring of smoke. "Long as you don't gross me out." "No shame at all, huh?

Picking up Julian's leftovers?" They howled. So that was what I was to him. A thing he'd gotten bored of.

A thing he could slide across the table like a bottle nobody wanted to finish. I didn't go in. I texted some excuse about a headache and left. He didn't ask a single question.

The call just clicked dead in my ear. That was the moment. Not later, not after I'd cried it out. Right there in the hallway, garment bag on my arm, I decided. I'm done.

I'm leaving him, and I'm not looking back. It took two days for the gossip to start. Julian was chasing a sophomore from the arts school. Young, sweet, easy to dazzle.

He went after her the same way he'd once gone after me. Loud. Public. Throwing cars and jewelry around like confetti. A girl that age never stood a chance. She folded in a week.

Then he brought her to a party our whole circle was at. The room went quiet when they walked in. A couple of the girls I liked shot me worried looks.

I smiled. "Why'd everyone go quiet? What are you all staring at?" Julian sat the girl down, his arm around her, and finally looked me in the eye. "Cecilia. Good timing.

Let's just clear the air." "Sure," I said. "Go ahead." "This onagain, offagain thing got boring.

We both stopped feeling it a long time ago." My ring bit into the side of my finger. I was squeezing my hand that hard. I couldn't feel a thing. "Paige is young. She's sweet.

I actually like her, and I'm not going to string her along." He stroked the girl's hair. "She deserves a real title." I nodded. "I understand." "We can still be friends.

Anything you need, you come to me.

As long as you're in New York, I've got you, same as always." "That's all right." I stood, and I let myself smile at him. "If we're done, let's be done cleanly.

Wouldn't want to confuse the poor girl." Julian's brows lifted. He hadn't seen that coming. After a second, he said, "Fair enough." "Enjoy your night.

I'll head out." "Want my driver to take you?" "No need. I'll get my own ride." I walked out.

As I pulled the door shut behind me, a voice slid through the gap. "How long you think she lasts this time?" "Two days?" "Nah, she looked actually mad.

I'll give it a week." Julian glanced at the door I hadn't quite closed, and laughed, cold and easy. "Three days. She'll be back, crying." "Same as always.

Honestly, it's gotten old to watch." "Right? Cecilia could never leave you. Girl's out of her mind for you, everybody knows—" I laughed at myself, quietly.

Tightened my grip on my bag. And walked to the elevator. Chapter 2 Back at the apartment, I went to the corner of the closet and took the dress down. Six months I'd waited for it.

Custommade. Nonrefundable. I was never going to wear it now. I found the scissors.

I cut it slow, hem to bodice, one clean stroke after another, until the thing I'd dreamed about lay in pieces on the floor.

Then I worked the ring off my finger and set it on the coffee table. Faceup. Where he couldn't possibly miss it. I didn't take much. A few things that were only mine.

The rest could stay. I left him a note. The apartment, everything in it, was his to do whatever he wanted with. He didn't have to ask me. Then I booked the 2 a.m. flight to LA.

My best friend had married out there last year. As good a place as any to disappear into.

Frankie dragged me through three stores and a long lunch, and that night there was a small reunion. Old classmates, people I halfremembered.

We were a few drinks in when the door opened and someone else walked in. The girls lit up. "Desmond Shen?

Look who decided to grace us." "Big shot in the building tonight, huh?" "Had a meeting next door.

Heard some old friends were in here." He smiled. "Thought I'd stop by." And then his eyes moved across the room and stopped. On me.

They stayed there a beat too long before he let them slide away, like he hadn't meant to do it. Like he'd known exactly where I'd be sitting before he ever walked in.

Frankie pinched my arm under the table. "Cece. He's here for you." I looked at him through the warm blur of too much wine. Taller than Julian. Black coat, charcoal suit under it.

A face that didn't need the money behind it. Legs that went on for a city block. I squinted, then shook my head. "No way.

We haven't spoken in years." Frankie ignored me completely and called across the room. "Desmond. Be a gentleman and get Cece home safe later? We've all been drinking.

I'm not putting her in some stranger's car." I froze and looked up at him. His eyes came back to my face and stayed there. Two full seconds.

Then he nodded. "Of course." "You're a lifesaver." Frankie dropped back into her chair and leaned into my ear. "Seven years sleeping next to one man is a garbage return on investment, babe." "He cheated on you and called it variety.

So you get a second act. That's just math." "And a man like that? You do not leave that on the table." "What makes you think he'd even sleep with me?" "Honey.

He's been undressing you with his eyes since he walked through that door. Trust me. I've dated eighteen. I have data." Desmond drove me back to the hotel.

At the curb I unclipped my seatbelt and thanked him. "For tonight.

For getting me home." He turned his head. "Any time." I had the door half open, one foot already out, when Julian's voice from that night came back to me. Bored of her years ago.

Leftovers. So I made a choice. Cleareyed, on purpose. The first thing I'd decided for myself in seven years. "Do you want to come up for tea?" He kissed me in the elevator.

I'd been drinking, and the way he kissed me, certain and unhurried, like a man who had waited a very long time for permission, knocked the air clean out of my lungs. "There are cameras," I got out, flushed, my knees gone soft, both arms locked around his waist just to stay upright.

Desmond glanced up at the lens in the corner. Turned us both, slow, and put his back to it. Then he bent and kissed me again.

Chapter 3 I had the keycard against the door when he caught my wrist. "Cecilia. You can still back out.

Say the word and I stop." "Back out of what?" I tipped my face up, hooked a finger in his tie, and pulled him down to me. "You've already kissed my mouth swollen.

Now you want to stop?" Desmond laughed, quiet and low.

He reached up and dragged the pad of his thumb across my swollen lip. "Then later," he said, "even if you regret it, it'll be too late." We didn't make it to the bedroom.

My back hit the wall, and it stung, and I bit him, whining into his shoulder. "You're an animal. Has nobody ever taught you to be gentle?" His palm slid up to cushion my spine.

He breathed a kiss into the side of my neck. "Cecilia. I'm losing my grip here..." Five minutes later I understood exactly what he'd meant. Afterward he carried me to the bed.

I pressed my face into the pillow and couldn't stop laughing. "Desmond. How long has it been for you?" His face went serious. He looked at me. "A while.

Work's kept me busy these past few years." That caught me off guard. My laughter faded out. A moment later, with no warning at all, the tears came. "I'm sorry, Desmond.

I..." I dumped all of this on you. You didn't sign up for the wreck I'm in. "Cecilia. What are you talking about?" The crying threw him.

He fumbled to wipe my face, and the tears just kept coming. "I shouldn't have pulled you into this." "But you already did." He leaned down, took my face in both hands, and held my eyes.

His voice turned serious, almost grave. "You started this, Cecilia. So you see it through. With me." Day seven in LA. Brandon, a friend from back home, texted out of nowhere.

Brandon: [Cece, when are you coming back to New York?] Me: [Not anytime soon.] Brandon: [Everyone misses you. Chad's birthday's in a couple days. Come hang.] Me: [I'll pass.

Tell him I'll send something.] Brandon: [Sure. Take care of yourself.] Back in the city, in the private room, Brandon held the phone out to Julian. "Here, look.

Why don't you just call her? She'll listen to you, guaranteed." Julian stared at the lines on the screen, cold. Then he crushed out his cigarette and stood. "She can stay gone.

Better if she rots out there." "Julian, come on. Don't be like that. She's hurting, that's all." "Yeah, she even took the ring off this time. She's really torn up.

And honestly, man, you and that girl took it too far—" "We're done. Broken up. The hell else does she want?" His temper snapped. "Listen to me. Nobody contacts her. Nobody.

Not if you're bleeding out." "Okay, okay, we won't. Just breathe.

You only got out of the hospital, stomach bleeding from all that drinking." "Funny how your stomach never acted up when Cecilia was around.

She's gone a week and you've already wrecked yourself..." Every word out of them dragged his face a shade darker. In the end he grabbed his coat and slammed out of the room.

Down on the street, the wind cut at his face, and the heat in his chest still wouldn't bank. She really had some nerve, that woman. Seven days. Not one call. Not one text.

Playing games, was she. Julian pulled up her number and dropped it into the block list. Watched the screen go dark. You'd better not come crawling back to me crying.

Because this time, I'm not going soft on you. Not like before. Chapter 4 When Desmond called, I'd just typed the last line of a column and hit format.

I'd been writing magazine columns since college, and I'd done well enough at it to go fulltime after graduation. The talent paid well. The work was portable.

Laptop under my arm, I could file from any city on earth. Which meant a breakup didn't have to trap me in New York, nursing a broken heart. "Cece.

What do you feel like for dinner?" His voice came through clear, and the noise of a busy afternoon went quiet, like a hand turning down a dial. "My brain's fried. I'm useless.

You pick." "Hotpot, then. There's a place that does incredible tripe. You'll love it." I used to order tripe every single time we did hotpot.

Then Julian told me it was disgusting to even look at, and I quietly stopped. But I had a vague memory that Desmond ate light.

Always had. "You don't have to humor me," I said. "I'm not picky anymore." "I'm actually craving it myself. There was a counter by the west dining hall back in school.

Best tripe I ever had. Soft, fresh." He made it sound so good I started wanting it too. That counter really had been worth the line. Four years and I never got sick of it.

He'd taken the one thing I'd been made to feel ashamed of and quietly made it ours. Nobody had bothered with something that small for me in a long time. "Fine.

Hotpot it is." "I'm coming to get you now." "Okay." The place Desmond took me to was an old Sichuan hotpot joint that had been around for years.

Cramped, worn, and packed wall to wall. Desmond, in a tailored suit, did not belong in it at all. I watched him take a napkin and carefully wipe down my chair.

Then set out my chopsticks, straighten my place, and fill my glass.

A man raised the way he was, doing all the small fussy things, and not clumsy at a single one of them. "Your ex trained you well," I said, before I could stop myself. Not like me.

Seven years of onandoff, and the only stretch I ever felt cared for, held in someone's palm, was the very start, when Julian was still chasing me.

After we graduated and moved in together, I became the housekeeper.

Julian had a bad stomach, so I learned to cook, to simmer soup, to run his whole life like some dutiful little wife. It took me until now to see it.

I'd loved him so hard I lost myself. I forgot the part where you love yourself first. And then I wondered why his love wore off.

Desmond swirled a slice of beef in the pot for me and glanced up. "Where'd you hear I had an ex?" I blinked. "In college, wasn't there always a girl around you?

Childhood friends, grew up together, that whole thing." "You mean Talia?" He laughed once. "We did grow up together. But we never dated. I didn't have feelings for her.

A sister, at most." "So you haven't dated anyone, all these years?" He folded back a shirt cuff, unhurried. "Met a few people. Through setups. Nothing fit.

It ended." "Oh." A pause. "And after that, no one?" I looked down into the pot. I thought about the way he'd been that first night.

Somehow it made everything he'd just said ten times more believable. "Cecilia.

I won't be like that next time." It came out of nowhere. "Won't be like what?" He turned his face away and cleared his throat. Maybe it was the steam rising off the pot.

His ears had gone an alarming shade of red. "You'll find out later." Chapter 5 Desmond spooned the cooked tripe into my bowl. "Eat." It wasn't until later, after he'd driven me back to the hotel, after he'd carried me from the bathroom to the bed, that I finally understood what that line had meant.

By then I could barely hold myself together. "Desmond..." I glared at him, except my eyes had gone glassy, which only made it worse.

His name came out soft, sulky, nothing like real anger. He dipped his head and kissed me, slow. "Cece. Does this feel good?" I shook my head and wouldn't answer. He didn't mind.

He just kept kissing me, patient, unbearably gentle, again and again, until I couldn't stand it.

His eyes were redrimmed too, the restraint costing him, every muscle in his arm drawn tight, sweat sliding down his temple one drop at a time.

He held himself there, right on the edge, and let the rest of the night blur into the dark. "Cece." His voice came low against my ear, the last thing I caught before I went under. "If it feels good... then don't ever leave me.

Okay?" The night of Chad's birthday, the gift I'd picked out in LA reached him through a friend.

Julian sat on the couch, smoking, the bottle in front of him already more than half gone. The present for Chad was something Desmond and I had chosen together.

A pair of antique cufflinks from a label Chad loved, the kind of oldmoney house whose logo you only catch if you already know to look for it. "These are gorgeous," Chad said.

His smile was stiff.

He kept one eye on Julian's face, didn't dare say more, and quickly handed them to his girlfriend to tuck away. "Bring them here." Julian's voice, out of nowhere.

Chad froze, then thought better of arguing and passed the box over. Julian looked at the cufflinks. At the logo, small, discreet, nothing flashy about it.

He stared for a long moment. "Put them away." He shut the box and pushed it aside. Chad let out a breath and reached to take it back.

Then Julian seized the empty bottle in front of him and slammed it down on the glass table. Glass burst everywhere. A long red line opened across the back of his hand.

The room went to chaos. "What now?

What set you off, man?" "That's deep, it won't stop bleeding, you need a hospital—" Julian stood there, dead still, his face dark and crackling with something violent. "Cecilia has never bought a single thing from that brand." His voice was low.

Hoarse. Dragged up from somewhere heavy. Chad rushed to laugh it off. "So? Maybe she just grabbed whatever. It's not like your birthday, man.

She planned yours half a year out." "Come on, Julian. You know where you stand with her. The rest of us combined don't add up to a tenth of it.

Everybody knows how much she cares about you.

How crazy she is about you." Julian let out a cold laugh. "Cares about me?" And slowly, for no reason anyone could name, the loud, crowded room began to go quiet.

Chapter 6 "Julian... maybe I should give Cece a call?" "Or maybe deal with the bleeding first..." Then Chad got brave.

He lifted his phone, snapped a photo of the raw split across the back of Julian's hand, and sent it straight to Cecilia. Julian didn't stop him. Maybe Chad moved too fast.

Maybe he just didn't get the chance. The room went still. Ten seconds, give or take. Then Chad's phone lit up and rang. "See? I told you she's crazy about you.

Julian, look, it's Cece!" Chad couldn't contain himself.

And everyone watched the violence drain out of Julian's face, the hard lines going soft. "You want to take it?" Chad held the phone out.

Julian turned his face away and wouldn't look at it. But the corner of his mouth moved. Chad lit up. "I'll get it, I'll get it." He put it on speaker on purpose.

The second Cecilia's voice came through, Julian's lips pressed thin. "Chad?

What happened, are you hurt?" "Nah, not me, it's Julian's hand, you have no idea how bad, it's scary, it won't stop bleeding..." Chad rambled on. The other end stayed quiet. "Cece?

You there? Look, maybe... maybe you should just come back.

He won't go to the hospital, and he can't keep bleeding like this." "Chad." Cecilia's voice was as soft and lovely as ever. "Yeah, yeah, I'm here, I'm listening." Chad answered, and shot Julian a wink. "Stop telling me anything about him