The Billionaire and the Virgin (Billionaires and Bridesmaids #1)(65)

“I was trying to protect you.”

“From who you really are? Who’s going to protect all those women from you? The women you pay to debase themselves for your viewers?”

“Marjorie, it’s not like that—”

“It’s exactly like that,” she cried, pulling her hand from his. “How would you feel if those men showed up right now and I felt pressured to take my top off? And then it showed on TV?”

His jaw clenched. “I told them to leave you alone.”

“Because you’re the boss,” she pointed out. “If you weren’t and they harassed me, I might have done it just to make them go away. Then how would you feel?”

He said nothing. Just gazed at her with wounded eyes.

“Those women are someone else’s daughters. Their sisters, their girlfriends. You’re profiting off of bullying them.”

“What do you want me to say, Marjorie? I love you. I never intended on falling in love, but I’m crazy about you. If you want me to say I’m sorry, I will. If you want me to sell the network, I will. I love you. I’d do anything for you. I loved you from the moment I saw you.”

“I don’t know if I can still love you, Rob. The man I loved was a lie.”

“No.” His nostrils flared and he glared at her. “I’ve been me with you this week. That’s who I really am. That wasn’t a lie.”

“The man I fell in love with wouldn’t hurt women. He treats me like gold,” she said softly. “I loved the man who was kind and gentle to me, who held my hand and rescued me from creeps. Not the man who hires the creeps.”

“Marjorie, please.” He grasped her hand in his, pulled it to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. “I adore you. I adore everything about you. I’ve never met someone like you and I can’t wait to spend every minute with you. Give me another chance. Let me redeem myself in your eyes. Please. I want you with me. When I go back to California, I want you to come with me and give me another chance. I can change.”

Her heart was breaking at the pain in his handsome face, his smoky green eyes. How many times had she dreamed of having a man tell her that he loved her and wanted her? And how was it that Rob—who was so perfect for her in so many ways and made her feel so cherished and loved—could turn out to be so awful underneath? She felt utterly betrayed, and stupid . . .

And she just hurt, from head to toe. Her heart hurt the worst. “I can’t, Rob.”

“I don’t want to lose you. How much is Bront? going to pay you? I’ll double it. No, I’ll triple it. You can be my assistant. Two of mine are f*cking idiots anyhow.”

She reluctantly pulled her hand from his, wanting to weep at how her body still wanted him even though her heart felt torn asunder. “I’m sorry, Rob. I have a rehearsal dinner to get to.”

“Marjorie, please.”

She shook her head. “Just . . . just leave me alone, okay?”

As she walked away on wobbly feet, she kept expecting him to come after her. She looked back, once, and saw Rob still sitting at the bench, a haunted expression on his face.

He could beg her to forgive him as nicely as he wanted, but in the end, she didn’t trust him. She didn’t know the real Rob. Did the real Rob go on moonlit swims with tall girls and take them out for ice cream simply because they wanted to spend time together? Did the real Rob want to impress a girl so much that he wore a sweater-vest and took her to bingo? Or was the real Rob a manipulator who wore a million faces and would say whatever she wanted to hear just so he could get into the wedding?

She felt sick.





Chapter Twenty-two



The reception dinner was lovely. Despite the fact that Marjorie sat alone, the seat next to her uncomfortably empty, her friends did their best to make her feel wanted and happy. She’d never felt more loved by her friends . . .

Which was ironic, because all she wanted to do was run up to her room and have a good crying session. She couldn’t, though, because she didn’t want to ruin Bront?’s happiness. So she smiled and acted like she was fine. She laughed and chatted and shook hands, and gave her small, shaky little speech at the rehearsal dinner. Her smile felt pasted on? but if anyone noticed her stiff, frozen look, they kept it to themselves.

And afterward, when all the women piled into several limos and headed out for the official bachelorette party, Marjorie was amongst them, doing her best to have fun. Somehow, she found a seat in the limo next to Bront?, who hugged her and didn’t say anything.

And Marjorie hugged her back, tears threatening.

They were quiet in each other’s arms for a long moment while the others chatted and drank around them. Then, Bront? leaned into Marjorie’s ear.

“I just want you to know,” she whispered, “That the manager told Logan that Mr. Cannon and his people—all of them—left the hotel earlier. You don’t have to worry about seeing any of them again.”

“Thank you,” Marjorie murmured woodenly. She knew Bront? was trying to make her feel better. And she supposed it should have made her feel better. Any more awkward confrontations were no longer something she had to worry about.


But she wasn’t any fun at the bachelorette party, and she ended up sitting at one of the back tables with pregnant Audrey, sipping water and listening halfheartedly to the other woman’s baby plans.