Page 64 of The Wrong Billionaire
Bending, I slide my hand beneath her legs and lift her into my arms.
“Come on,” I murmur. “Bed for you.”
I carry her through to my bedroom, stopping at the sight of the bedclothes covered in rose petals. More roses sit in a vase on the bedside table, along with champagne in a bucket of ice.
I sigh and look at her. Slowly, I lower her feet to the floor.
“Wren,” I say softly. “Time for bed.”
“Tired,” she says, sinking onto the mattress.
“I know.” I watch helplessly as she flops onto her back. Okay. I’ve put Caesar to bed several times in the past; I can do it for my wife.
Lifting up the layers of lace to expose her feet, I carefully take off her sandals. She mumbles something, but doesn’t complain.
I go out to the kitchen and retrieve a bottle of water, then look at the cases and backpack. She probably has a nightie in there, but I don’t want to go rummaging through her stuff. Leaving the case and bag there, I go back into the bedroom. She hasn’t moved.
I open the door to the walk-in wardrobe, fetch a T-shirt, and come back out.
“Wren,” I say firmly. “You need to take your dress off. Come on. You can put this on.” I take her hand and pull her to a sitting position. She groans, but lets me lift her to her feet.
Supporting her, I take her into the bathroom. “Can you take your dress off?” I ask, unclipping the circlet from her hair and leaving it on the side of the sink.
She manages to gather the skirts in her hands, but doesn’t have the coordination to lift it up her body. Taking a deep breath, I help her peel it up and over her head. A scatter of rose-petal confetti falls from it onto the tiles as I hang it carefully on the back of the door.
I turn back. She’s leaning against the sink, almost asleep on her feet. She’s wearing a beautiful set of cream underwear, and I swallow hard.Not now, Marcus.
“Here.” I help her slide her arms into the T-shirt and tug it over her head and down her pale body. It reaches past her ass, and I blow out a breath, relieved when she’s covered. I’ll have to leave her underwear on.
“Sweetheart, you gonna pee before you come to bed?” I hesitate, not sure whether to help.
“I’ll be fine,” she declares, focusing for a moment.
“I’ll wait outside.” I go out and pull the door closed. While I’m waiting, I slide off my jacket and hang it up, then pace up and down until she finally opens the bathroom door.
“How are you feeling?” I ask.
“Thirsty,” she mumbles.
“Come to bed.” I take her over to it, peel back the duvet, and she sits. I take the top off the water bottle and wait until she’s had a good drink. Then I help her lie back on the pillows.
“Mars…” she mumbles.
I sit on the edge of the bed.
Her eyes shine, and she presses her fingers to her lips. “I’m sorry.”
I smile and brush her hair back from her face. “It’s okay.”
“I’ve ruined everything,” she squeaks.
“Of course you haven’t. It’s one night. Tomorrow is a new day. We’re going to the farm. It’ll be fine.”
She wipes beneath her eyes. “I didn’t mean to ruin it.”
“You haven’t.”
“I was just… nervous.”
