I Slapped My Fiancé—Then Married His Billionaire Nemesis

My phone buzzed again before I’d even finished reading his last message.

Ashton: [If I ask properly this time—can we go public?]

The screen lit up with the text, plain and cold.

But somehow I could feel him in it—tense, holding back, waiting for me to say yes.

I just sat there, staring.

A minute ago I’d been ranting about the event organisers and reminding him to stay the hell away from Rowan Hale.

I was about to say goodnight.

Then this?

I reread his message.

My brain stalled.

My limbs felt heavy, like I’d just walked in from the snow.

The phone dinged again.