Billionaire's Bride

Made to be his

When the whole world is against me, but you're with me, I don't care about the world, only you.

Janette sat in Asher's private plane, surrounded by luxury-golden seats, a red carpet lining the aisle, and the soft fragrance of roses filling the space. She couldn't help but reflect on how much her life had changed. Before Robert Stark entered it, traveling had always been a nightmare. Public transport made her nauseous, the smells often triggering migraines and vomiting spells that ruined every trip. Now, the sweet scent around her was a relief.

Asher was speaking to the pilot, giving her a brief moment of peace. She still couldn't believe her luck when his phone rang just as he leaned in, asking for a kiss. That had been the day she vowed to keep as much distance from him as possible. She pretended to gaze out of the plane's window, even though her full attention was on her husband. He was impossibly handsome in his black sunglasses, a few loose strands of his hair falling over his forehead. His steps echoed closer, and out of all the lavish seats available, of course, he chose the one right next to her.

"Everything fine, Mrs. Norman?" he asked, his voice soft with a care that felt almost genuine. The air hostess glanced at them with awe, but Janette couldn't help but roll her eyes.

It was all for show. Asher's behavior, the tender concern-it was a performance. She had always been sensitive to kindness, easily swayed by it, and she hated herself for starting to expect more. And expectations, she knew, only led to pain.

As soon as the air hostess left, she let her frustration spill out. "You're such a good actor, Mr. Norman. Has anyone ever suggested you try your luck in films?"

He chuckled, looking amused. "What makes you say that?"

"Maybe because you're acting like we're in love and living the perfect husband-wife dream in front of your own staff," she whispered, not wanting anyone to overhear.

He smirked. "I married you to make it clear to the world that I'm off the market." His words were nonchalant, but this was the first time he'd openly revealed the reason for their marriage. "As for my staff, they know better than to talk. I can't have them blabbing about my personal life."

Janette wanted to press further but decided against it. "Okay," she muttered, glancing out the window as the plane began to prepare for takeoff. She hated takeoffs-always had. Traveling with Robert had been difficult enough, but without her mother beside her, the fear felt more intense now. Her mom always held her hand, soothing her nerves. "Mom, I miss you," she whispered, placing a hand over her chest.

Asher, noticing her unease, rested his hand over hers. Startled, she instinctively gripped his hand tightly. Only after a few moments did she realize what she was doing. Their rings gleamed together, fingers intertwined. It felt oddly right, their hands fitting together as if made for each other. She met his eyes, and for a fleeting second, something flickered in them before he gently released her hand, the warmth of his touch quickly replaced by the cold emptiness left behind.

Hours passed on the flight, and eventually, exhaustion took over. Janette fell asleep on Asher's shoulder, his masculine scent lulling her into a deep slumber.

---

When she woke, she wasn't on the plane anymore. Instead, she found herself in a large, plush bed, nestled in soft pillows. She blinked, confused. How had she ended up here?

Janette looked down and gasped. She was in her undergarments-only a red bra and panties. Her mind raced. Did she undress herself? No, she would've remembered that. Then, she heard the shower running in the adjoining bathroom. It was early, barely five in the morning. It had to be Asher.

Her eyes widened. Did he change my clothes? Did he carry me here? Her mother's warning rang in her ears: "One day, your careless sleeping habits will get you into trouble."

Embarrassed, Janette glanced down at her body. "Shit," she muttered, her cheeks turning red. Husband or not, Asher had no right to change her clothes. But then again, confronting him would only stir unnecessary tension. Better to let it slide for now and collect her grievances for a future argument.

The sound of the shower stopped, and moments later, Asher emerged from the bathroom, a towel wrapped loosely around his waist. Her eyes couldn't help but travel over his toned body-his biceps, his abs-and her cheeks grew even hotter when she realized she had been caught staring.

He smirked. "The deal's still on, Mrs. Norman."

Janette opened her mouth to reply, but no words came. What is happening to me? Why do I feel so powerless around him?