The Billionaire's Mistake

Madison Avenue, Two Days Earlier

Aly James disliked men like the one standing right in front of her.

The air in the room suddenly seems thinner, even the light in the gallery suddenly became mingled together, forming some kind of kaleidoscope.

She hated men who believed everyone should worship them, and she hated men like her father’s driver, the snotty Englishman whose patience was extremely thin and would lash out at the slightest inconvenience.

But on the best day of her life, she had to deal with one man who possessed all those qualities.

Aly folded her arms and took a stance she hoped was menacing enough. “Please can you maintain the peace? We’re all trying to enjoy the art.”

The man in question turned to her, his green eyes taking her in with one bored sweep. Aly pressed her lips together to keep herself calm, even though she wanted to disappear. Away from this man. He was imposing and intimidating.

“The art? Whoever the artist is, I hope he gets slung from a catapult, or an airplane.” The man replied, his eyes daring her to challenge him.

“What?” She tilted her head to the side as she regarded the man in a clean cut suit, and pants she was sure hugged his ass. Although she hated to do so, she couldn’t help her eyes as they drank in his appearance.

He was handsome, painfully so.

“This is hardly art. It's a lack of effort.” The man turned to the nearby piece behind him.

Aly bit her lip and stared back at the man. She could not believe her ears. This piece was her favorite and by far the most celebrated in the room.

It was a bold and evocative piece that had taken her two months to finish. The canvas was medium, but the colors were rich, overwhelming, and stood out. She’d chosen these colors specifically because they carried emotions and movement.

Who does he think he is? She thought to herself as her eyes darted from her painting to the man’s amused stare.

Today was supposed to be her big day–the day she broke out of her father’s wings.

All her life, she’s been pampered and has led a life of luxury. While she was grateful that her father had the money, she wished to have her own life, and to follow her dreams.

Now she was finally stepping out of her shadows and following her artistic talent. She didn't need to be put down like this.

Aly stepped closer, her heart racing at the man’s arrogance. “I don't think you understand what art is. If you do, you’ll know that this represents life, and dreams and the way they shift, just out of reach.” She explained, entranced.

The man arched an eyebrow but the amusement in his eyes remained. “This looks like a mess to me.” He shrugged and continued. “Anyone could do this. I could even throw paint on a canvas and call it art.”

Aly felt blood rush to her head. “It’s more than just throwing paint. What do you know how to do other than share your dumb opinions where they're not needed?”

The man chuckled, and took a menacing step forward. Aly took one step back, her heart racing in her chest. What was he doing?

The man cocked his head to the side as he regarded her. “Dumb? Where it’s not needed?” His presence was overwhelming and he towered over her imposingly. “What do you mean by that? Are you calling me stupid?”

Aly sighed. This was not what she had in mind when she’d decided to stop hiding in the storage room and mingle with guests. Infact, this was the exact thing she was trying to avoid—criticism.

She knew her strengths, and handling criticisms was not one of them.

“If the shoes fit, then wear it.” She bit back.

The man’s eyes flashed with anger, the first real emotion she’d gotten from him.

Aly managed a small smile. Somehow, she was winning in this silent war, and she had the upper hand.

“Is this how you talk to your guests? Do you even know who I am?”

“What would the knowledge do for me?” She retorted, tilting her head to the side slightly. Aly wasn't usually this brave, and the adrenaline that flowed through her felt good. She didn’t even mind that a small crowd was gathering.

The man took another menacing step and opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by the arrival of another man, whose features closely resembled his.

“James, there’s someone I think you need to meet. I just spoke to HR and we need to speed this deal up.”

Aly scrunched her face up in annoyance and disgust. Apparently his name was James. Aly scoffed and scrunched her face up in disapproval. He didn’t deserve to be called James.

James dragged his glare from Aly and fixed it on the new intruder. “Can’t you enjoy the moment, Blaine? It’s 8:30 pm. Take a break from working all the time.”

The man, Blaine, arched an eyebrow and returned James’s glare. But Aly noticed that there was a coldness in Blaine’s stare.

Even James turned away.

“Fine.” James said, then turned to Aly. His smirk from earlier had returned, and it made Aly’s skin itch. “You’re lucky. Also, don't extend my greeting to the artist.”

Aly bristled. “Tell the artist yourself.”

Blaine stepped forward before James said another word. His piercing gray eyes sized her up for a moment. Aly could see there was confusion in his eyes, and also something dangerous.

Instinctively, she stepped away.

“Hailey?” He took a step towards her, hsi eyes dragging over her body. He looked like he’d seen a ghost.

“What?” Aly asked, tilting her head to the side in confusion. “My name’s Aly James.”

But Blaine didn’t seem to be listening to her. He took yet another step forward. “Hailey.” This time, he said the name like a statement. “Aly James? Is that the new name? You’re not doing much hiding are you?”

Aly was confused. “What do you mean?” Her eyes darted around the room, searching for an opportunity to escape. She was not comfortable with the stranger and his weird interest in her.

“You’ve always been smart, and frankly, I expected a bit more of a challenge from you.” He continued, his eyes dragging over her body with contempt.

Aly swallowed. She could see the way his jaw hardened.

“I don't know what you’re talking about.” She said quickly, and made to side step him.

But He was quicker. He stepped right in front of her, cutting ehr escape off. She was doomed.

“Hailey, give this act up.” He leaned in, so that his breath fanned her neck lightly. Aly realized that she could no longer breathe.

"You have me confused with someone else. I am Aly, not Hailey.” She argued. She tried to leave again, but he was not letting up.

Grabbing her by the arm, he pulled her into him forcefully. The move startled Aly who had not seen that coming and she lost her footing and slammed into his hard muscular chest.

“Let me go!” Aly squealed. Her voice was easily drowned by the music floating from the bass speakers.

He pushed her away from him with such force and speed that it felt like he was repulsed by her proximity.

That was her chance to escape.

Before Blaine had a chance to talk to her again, Aly slipped out of reach, and moved away, nearly losing her balance.

The last thing she saw as she blended into the crowd was the cold stare in his eyes and the way his jaws clenched.

He did;t come after her. He stood there watching her until she slipped away completely into the crowd.

But Aly knew she would not forget the anger and the coldness in his eyes.

It sent shivers down her spine.

Two Days Later.

It was a grand plot, Aly realized.

It was two days after the opening of her gallery. She was dressed in a white Prada dress that clung tightly to her body, and showed off her curves, and she was being forced to marry a man she didn’t know.

It was all so sudden that she still thought she was dreaming. Maybe when she woke up, she would be in her art gallery or in her room.

But also, a part of her knew that this was no dream. It was very real.

One minute she was going home for her father’s birthday and the next, she was being asked to walk down the aisle to save her father’s company which she also found out was on the verge of going under.

It was ridiculous and had felt like a prank until she saw the man she was getting married to.

Blaine Blackwood.

The creepy man had acted weird when he saw her, and it didn't help that her brother-in-law was going to be James Blackwood, her critic.

Then she realized that it was no joke and only Blaine could save her father’s company. All she had to do was say, ‘I do.’ Even though she does not.

She was standing at the far end of the lawn, but she saw his imposing figure standing beside the priest at the head of the table and dressed in a gray suit.

Even from where she stood, she could feel the coldness in his stance and when she closed her eyes, his cold gray eyes bothered her and reflected back at her.

The lawn had been cleared out and elaborate decorations had taken over. Her father had taken great pains in seeing to that.

It hurt her deeply that her father had not warned her or told her about it. Maybe he was cornered or scared that I would run away if he did.

Aly grabbed both ends of the Louis Vuitton custom dress she had on, her heart racing in her chest. How had she gotten here? She wondered as she stood at the entrance of the lawn.

She stared at the people seated around the dinner table, and the priest standing off to one side, picking his shirt with a bible tucked under his arm. Aly suddenly felt nauseous.

This was not even a wedding. It felt like a handover. She was not even wearing a proper wedding dress, and she hadn't even bothered with a veil. This was not how she’d pictured her wedding day.

She could not do it, and she would not do it.

She turned to her father who was standing behind her. He stared back at her, an older version of herself, and then another tear slid down her face.

“I can't do this, daddy. Don't make me.” She begged.

If life was fair, she should not be the one being forced to get married to a man she didn’t even know.

Her father placed a comforting arm on hers, his eyes teary. ‘I have to do what I can to save the company. Remember darling, it was built by your mother and I, God bless her soul.” He shook his head, and sighed wearily.

Aly simply stared back at her father, not believing her ears. “I can’t be his wife. He is cold and…”

Her father raised his hand in the air, cutting her off. “Not another word. You will get married to him to save us. It’s the only way.”

No it wasn’t. Aly thought angrily. It wasn't the only way–she was not the only way.

If only her sister Hailey had not run away from home a year ago, then maybe she would have been the one walking down the aisle with that man as the eldest daughter.

Not her.

But she did not say her thoughts out loud. She didn’t dare.

As her father led her to be given away to Blaine, Aly closed her eyes and tried to imagine that she was happy, and that she was going to be happily married to someone who loved her. Not a stranger.

She wished she was dreaming, and that when she woke up, she would find herself in her condo, watching her favorite show and sipping on Champagne.

But reality is rude, and when Aly opened her eyes, she found herself staring into the cold gray eyes of her soon-to-be husband, Blaine Blackwoods.

“I should’ve told you, there’s no escape.” He leaned in and whispered to her.

Aly saw the rage in his eyes, and she also saw the triumphant smirk dancing on his lips.

“We are gathered here, to join these people….” The priest began.

But that was all Aly heard.

Several pairs of eyes stared up at her, as she struggled to keep her breathing under check. Her heart beat wildly in her chest and she suddenly felt dizzy.

I can’t marry this man who seems determined to kill me. He’s mental. Aly muttered under her breath as the priest went on and on.

She had to leave.

Without another thought at the decision she was about to make, Aly turned and ran.

Blood rushed through her head as she ran, and all she could hear was ringing in her ears.

But she didn’t stop running.

Her lungs burned as she ran, even though she heard footsteps behind her. She didn't turn to see who it was, she needed to be far away from him.

Ignoring the pain in her legs and the way her dress suddenly felt heavy, she found herself outside her father’s large estate. Panic surged through her as the footsteps behind her didn’t stop.

She changed her direction and ran into the woods that lined the entrance to the estate. Growing up there, Aly and her sister had wandered out of the estate and she was familiar with quicker escape routes.

She knew that if she went through the woods on her right, she’d find herself on the highway, get a cab and then go home.

That was all the plan she had and had not thought much about anything else going forward.

“Stop!”

She heard Blaine bark at her. He was keeping up with her strides and she was getting tired.

It was true that she had a slender figure with long “legs for days” like Vogue had termed it once in a magazine feature, but she didn’t quite know how to use them, sports-wise.

She had never really liked sports or the extra effort that was required. Aly liked to ride horses, to drink fine wine, and dine. She loved to go shopping and her idea of fun was painting, golf and swimming.

Too bad none of those things could help her out now. Maybe if she worked out a little more and spent less time dining, then…

Aly’s thought process was cut off as she plunged nose-first into a pile of mud. Why was there even mud in the wood when it hadn’t rained the day before? She wondered.

Aly groaned as she struggled to stand up, but her heel caught a loose stone somehow and sent her sprawling back to the ground.

She cried out in pain as her ankle twisted and her custom-made dress made a ripping sound.

Aly wasn’t sure which she was worried about-–the fact that her ankle was broken or the fact that Michael Kors would not be pleased with the fact that she had destroyed his best work yet.

She tried to stand up, to move, but the world suddenly spun around her, and she could feel the strength draining out of her. Aly could barely register the sound of Blaine’s footsteps closing in on her.

This was it. She said to herself, wincing in pain. She’d lost.

Her vision was blurred with tears as she tried again to push herself up, but her body refused to cooperate. He was getting closer now. Painfully closer.

She was too overwhelmed, too tired.

Just as she slipped into unconsciousness, strong arms caught her.

She saw his face, hard and his cold voice cut through the blur in her mind.

“Where are you going, Bunny?” He was so close to her face that she felt his breath. “Eager to leave already? I have not even started.”

The way he looked right into her eyes while he said those words to her, the way he held her—so delicately, yet so terrifyingly made her weak. But she was awake now.

Her eyes fluttered open, and when she tried to speak, it drained her.

For a moment she saw something flicker in his expression. Concern perhaps? It was hard to tell because just as quickly as it had appeared, it disappeared.

Or had she imagined it?

He carried her back to the lawn, and as he did, Aly felt tears sliding down her cheeks. Why couldn’t she do anything right?

This was not happening to her. It felt like a nightmare that she could not escape from. Even her own consciousness would not do her that favor.

He dropped her on an empty chair, as everyone fanned around her.

But she only heard the words that he did next, because it would haunt her for the rest of her life.

“You are my wife, and there’s no way around that.”