Tricked Into Marrying The Arrogant Billionaire

“What’s happening to me?” Emma whispered, panic tightening her throat.

Her eyes felt impossibly heavy. She pressed the fingers of her right hand to her forehead while her left braced against the wall, the only thing keeping her upright. Any other day the floor would have claimed her already. She couldn’t remember what had triggered this. Two hours ago she had arrived at work perfectly fine and thrown herself into her tasks. The strange fog had only settled after she drank that glass of water. A part of her refused to connect it to Kate—the colleague who seemed determined to see her fail—but the thought lingered like a sour taste.

Working full-time when she should have been in college was already hard enough. It was the only path open to her after being found as a child in New York, tucked behind a trash can. She had been told she washed ashore with no family, no past. The story had never truly bothered her—until now, when her head felt as though it were expanding and the hallway narrowed around her. The floor swayed beneath her unsteady feet. She shoved open the nearest door and stumbled inside.

Sleep tugged at her, but this was nothing like ordinary exhaustion. Her bones felt like overcooked noodles as she dragged herself toward the bed. “What’s happening to me?” she forced out again, eyes stormy with the effort to stay conscious even a few more seconds. Fear clawed at her—for her life, her job, the rent that was nearly due.

She collapsed face-down on the mattress, struggling for air, when the door opened.

Lazily she rolled over and found herself staring at a man who was both familiar and a stranger. She had never spoken to him in the months she had worked here. One lesson she had learned early was to keep her mouth shut. Logan Moore was the kind of man who could cost someone their job with a single word and walk away untouched. She needed this paycheck.

She tried to stand. Her legs failed her. Palms and knees hit the floor hard enough to jar her face.

“Hey—” His voice carried genuine concern as he stepped closer.

She raised a shaky hand to stop him, then crumpled again, cheek striking the ground. Her skin tingled, but when she checked her palm there was no blood. Something was deeply wrong. She stared at her hands as if they belonged to someone else while he carefully lifted her.

“I-I’m s-sorry, Mr. Logan Moore.” The full name tumbled out in a shudder. She scrambled away from him the moment she could stand, surprising herself with the sudden strength. A minute ago she could barely lift her arms; now she faced him on her own two feet, heart hammering.

His signature smirk rested on his lips. He licked the lower one slowly. Emma’s gaze dropped to her shoes—the black leather peeling, the ugly gap near the toe she tried never to notice. When she looked up again, the smirk had softened into something she had never seen on him in three months of watching him come and go with models.

They were alone.

“I came to change the sheets,” she said.

They both knew it was a lie. She sniffed, twisted her fingers, then slapped her own forehead. Color flooded her cheeks.

“Emma.” Logan’s voice was a tight groan. “Who did this?”

He stepped closer. She didn’t flinch. That small defiance seemed to please him more than he expected. Warm fingers traced from her forehead to her mouth. He caught her lower lip gently between thumb and forefinger.

“Emma.” He sounded almost scared.

His arms came around her—first careful, as if she might break, then firmer when she stayed rigid. He pulled her flush against the hard width of his chest, one arm locked around her lower back.

“Mr. Moore, I—”

He silenced her with a brief kiss.

For a heartbeat her mind emptied. All she registered was the handsome face, the brown eyes, the pink mouth that had just claimed hers. She pushed at his chest; he didn’t move. He lowered his head again and covered her lips more fully.

“I’ve always wanted to do this,” he murmured against her mouth. “Emma, I want you. And I know you want me too.”

He gave her no time to answer. In one smooth motion he swept her up and carried her to the bed, her slight frame pressed to his chest. He set her down carefully, kicked off his shoes, and began undressing her while she could only watch, too weak to protest or assist. His mouth traced a slow, deliberate path along her thighs. A faint gasp escaped her. The sensations she had kept locked away for so long stirred, multiplying until her belly fluttered with them.

Logan kissed the corners of her mouth, then settled fully on her lips.

Reality slipped away. Everything else became history.

The room still seemed dark, though not pitch black. Emma could make out the surroundings clearly as she forced her lazy eyes open.

“What…” She froze mid-whisper. “I’m doomed.”

She shivered. Without thinking twice she sprang off the bed, yanked her clothes on, and dashed for the door. There would be explanations later. Right now she only cared about not being caught sleeping in a guest’s room.

The moment she stepped outside she collapsed against the door, face pressed to the wood, and let out a shaky breath.

“Pffff!”

A short pause followed, long enough for her to turn around.

“I bet that was pretty intense,” the man grinned.

Emma found herself face to face with the manager, Kennedy Curt. His expression already looked dangerous, the kind that turned everything red.

“Good m