Hillbilly Girlie Marries a Billionaire – Episode 08
Emily read the card twice before calling Lucas back. He examined it, frowned, and explained that his staff had used the formal wording expected for a family announcement. No one beyond Adam knew the marriage had an expiration date. The secrecy protected his position, but it also meant Emily would have to perform permanence convincingly.
The thought made her newly aware of the bedroom around them. One bed, one bath, and one marriage certificate waited beneath the same roof. Lucas assured her a separate suite had been prepared across the hall. Relief came quickly enough to amuse him, though he concealed it behind his usual calm.
After he left, stylists opened the boxes. Silks in jewel tones spilled across the bed; shoes lined the carpet; velvet cases revealed diamonds that caught every light. Emily touched each item with care, afraid that her rough fingertips might somehow damage a world built from delicate surfaces.
“All of this is for me?” she asked. The head stylist addressed her as Mrs. Anderson and confirmed that Lucas had selected the finest options in the mall. Emily knew he had probably delegated every choice, yet generosity on such a scale still left her breathless. Yesterday she had counted wet bills in a gutter.
She chose a deep green gown because it reminded her of fields after summer rain. The fabric was softer than anything she had worn, and the cut transformed the woman in the mirror without erasing her. Beneath the makeup and careful hair, Emily could still see her mother’s stubborn chin and her own cautious eyes.
The stylists departed to collect a missing clasp. Emily, nervous about the banquet schedule, went to ask Lucas when they would leave. She crossed the hall and knocked on his door. Water ran somewhere inside, muffling the sound, and the door drifted open beneath her hand.
“Lucas?” she called. No answer came. She stepped inside, intending only to leave the question and retreat. His room was spare and orderly, more like a luxury hotel than a home, but a discarded suit jacket and open watch case made it feel unexpectedly personal.
The bathroom door opened behind her. Lucas emerged with damp hair, water still tracing his shoulders, and a towel secured low around his waist. Emily turned so quickly that the heel of her new shoe caught in the carpet. Her arms pinwheeled as the room tilted.
Lucas lunged and caught her around the waist. Emily grabbed the nearest thing for balance, which happened to be the edge of his towel. The fabric loosened. His expression changed for the first time since she had met him—from controlled surprise to unmistakable alarm.
Emily squeezed her eyes shut and thrust both hands forward, trying to return the towel without looking. One palm met his bare chest. Lucas inhaled sharply. Her face burned so fiercely she imagined the entire mansion could feel the heat.
He secured the towel with one hand while keeping the other around her waist. Neither moved. Beneath Emily’s palm, his heartbeat was steady but faster than his expression suggested. The discovery unsettled her; Lucas Anderson was not entirely immune to embarrassment, or perhaps not entirely immune to her.
“I knocked,” she said, still refusing to open her eyes. Lucas replied that most people waited for permission afterward. His dry tone rescued a fragment of her dignity. She told him most people locked bathroom doors when sharing a house with a wife acquired that morning.
A quiet laugh escaped him. Emily opened her eyes before remembering why they were closed. Her gaze remained determinedly above his shoulders, but the intimacy of his hand at her waist made distance impossible. The room seemed to contract around the space between their bodies.
Lucas released her slowly once he was certain she could stand. Emily stepped back, tangled again in the hem of her gown, and he caught her a second time. This time both laughed—hers nervous and breathless, his low enough to transform his severe face.
She had not known he could look like that. The warmth vanished almost as soon as it appeared, but it left a mark. Emily remembered Rose’s accusation that she did not belong in Lucas’s world. Yet in this unguarded moment, he seemed less like a distant billionaire and more like a man equally surprised by their strange marriage.
Emily finally explained that she had come to ask when they were leaving. Lucas said twenty minutes and advised her to choose safer shoes. She glanced down at the elegant heels, offended on their behalf, then conceded that walking into a banquet barefoot would make a worse first impression.
At the door, Lucas called her name. She turned cautiously. His gaze rested on the green dress, and something unreadable passed through his eyes. “You look beautiful,” he said. The compliment was quiet, offered without obligation, and therefore far more dangerous.
Emily escaped into the hall before he could see how deeply the words affected her. Inside her suite, she pressed both hands to her cheeks and reminded herself of the contract. Separate rooms, public appearances, one year. Attraction was not forbidden, but it could make every boundary harder to defend.
Lucas dressed alone, irritated by the memory of her hand against his chest. He had selected Emily because she seemed uncomplicated by his world. Instead, she disrupted his control with every honest reaction. A marriage meant to silence his family was beginning to create questions he could not answer.
When they met at the staircase, Lucas offered his arm. Emily accepted, and the emerald at her throat caught the chandelier light. Below them, Adam waited with a message from Grandfather Anderson: the family banquet had been moved forward, and every member of the Anderson board was already waiting to judge the bride Lucas had chosen.