Marrying The Comatose Billionaire For Two Million

vember wind. A single delivery, Upper East Side, with a tip that was more than

bit at her cheeks, but the number on the screen was a small, warm fire in her gut. This one order would cover the new medication

canopy. The doorman, draped in a coat that probably cost more than her bike, eyed her blue delivery

her stomach and held up her

e, she pulled out her phone again, her thumb hovering over Spencer's name. Just got a delivery near you. Thinking of you. She erased it. He was probably buried in textbooks

ic pulsed from behind the apartment door, along with

t no one answered. She knocked again, louder this time. Nothing. T

door open just enough to pe

ble just inside the door, snap a picture, and go. Bu

r going to get rid of that lit

photo was a permanent fixture in the city's gossip columns. The hea

cer's laugh. It wasn't his warm, private laugh, the on

t was just a bet. C

"A hundred bucks said he couldn't get the 'pure-hearted' delive

, every late-night talk, every gentle kiss-a transaction. A game. A joke.

lly kissed her? God, Spencer, who knows what

were clean, but the skin was chapped from the cold and the constant work. Shame, hot and suffocating, washed over her. S

hing wa

ing as Spencer, her Spencer, began to mimic her. He put on a serious, earnest voice, repe

oment, the heartbreak inside Ava curdled into something hard and cold. T