Substitute Bride: Healing The Broken Billionaire

Serena stared at the red lace pooled on the Persian rug. Her fingernails dug so hard into her palms that the skin throbbed.

She slowly bent down. Her back muscles were stiff and tight. She pinched the offending piece of fabric between her thumb and index finger and picked it up.

Julian watched her. His gaze was cold and analytical. He looked at her as if she were a rat in a maze, waiting for her next manipulative move.

Serena stood tall. She clutched the cheap fabric in her fist. She looked Julian directly in the eye. She refused to shrink away from his intimidating presence.

"Regardless of what you believe," Serena stated firmly, her voice steady, "I have absolutely no intention of seducing you."

Julian let out a harsh, bitter laugh. The sound scraped against the walls of the room. It was completely devoid of any real amusement.

He grabbed the wheels of his chair and pushed backward. He put five feet of distance between them. He looked at her like she was a contagious disease.

"Save your breath, Sylvia," Julian said. He deliberately emphasized the name. He laced the syllables with mocking reverence for her high social status.

Hearing her sister's name used as a dirty insult made Serena's blood boil. Heat rushed to her ears. But she forced her facial muscles to remain entirely impassive.

Julian raised his hand. He pointed toward the cold, unlit corner of the massive bedroom near the heavy double doors leading out to the drafty hallway.

"Take that trash and get out of my immediate sight," he ordered coldly. "Sit on that hard wooden bench in the shadows. Consider yourself exiled to the corner for the rest of the night. Do not dare to speak, and do not let me see your face."

Serena's eyes widened. Her breath hitched in her throat. She stared at him in disbelief at the archaic, humiliating command.

She opened her mouth to argue. Her natural, feisty Montana temper flared up like a lit match. Her chest heaved.

But the image of Sylvia's pale face flashed in her mind. She saw the plastic tubes down her sister's throat.

Serena swallowed her sharp retort. Her jaw clenched so hard her teeth ached.

Without a single word, she turned her back on Julian. Her spine was rigid with suppressed fury.

She walked over to the hard wooden bench near the double doors. The cold draft from the hallway seeped through the wide gap under the wood. It immediately hit her bare ankles.

Serena sat stiffly on the unforgiving wooden surface. The red lingerie dangled limply from her clenched fist.

Julian turned his wheelchair toward his massive oak desk. He picked up a digital tablet. He began scrolling, entirely ignoring her presence in the room.

The antique grandfather clock in the corner ticked loudly. The heavy, rhythmic sound was agonizingly slow. It marked the passing minutes like a hammer hitting an anvil.

Suddenly, the central air conditioning kicked in. A vent directly above the door blew a stream of frigid air straight down onto Serena's bare shoulders.

She shivered violently. Her teeth chattered together. A wave of goosebumps erupted across her arms, chest, and legs.

She glanced at Julian. She hoped he might show a sliver of mercy. But he was deeply engrossed in scrolling through stock reports. His face was illuminated by the blue light of the screen.

Her calves began to ache terribly from sitting in one rigid position. The adrenaline from the car ride and the blackmail had completely faded, leaving only exhaustion and cold.

Serena shifted her weight on the hard bench. The wood creaked slightly under her bare feet.

Julian didn't look up from his tablet. "Sit still," his voice snapped like a whip through the room.

Serena glared at the back of his dark head. She silently cursed him in her mind with every foul expletive she knew.

She rubbed her freezing arms. She realized she was actually going to freeze. She scanned the room. She spotted a thick, dark grey fleece robe draped over a nearby leather armchair.

She calculated the distance. It was only five steps away. She decided she was not going to freeze to death just to satisfy his massive ego.

She dropped the red lingerie onto a small side table. She took a stealthy, quiet step away from the bench, moving toward the armchair to grab the robe.