I Slapped My Fiancé—Then Married His Billionaire Nemesis

‘None of your business,’ I said, already turning away now that the show was over.

Rhys barked, ‘Stop! I’m not done talking to you.’

‘But I am.’

‘Don’t you have something to say?’

‘Like what?’

Rhys was scrutinising my face like he was looking for a crack in the wall. ‘Cathy’s pregnant.’

I pointed at my ear. ‘I know. I heard. Not deaf.’

‘We’re getting married.’

Catherine, who’d been busy scowling at me, snapped her head towards him.

Her jaw dropped. Her eyes went wide, suddenly so bright they outshone the lights overhead.

‘Good for you,’ I said. ‘Guess that means wedding bells. Do us both a favour and leave me off the guest list.’

‘Rhys! I—’ Catherine beamed. She looked radiant. Maybe it was the pregnancy, maybe it was his love—who could tell.