To Remarry The Billionaire

Prologue

Camila’s POV

I sat down, peering out of the window of the church changing room to stare up at the sky, but I wasn’t really staring at it. My eyes were glazed over with tears that wanted to drop, but I couldn’t let myself cry.

If I were to ruin the makeup my stepmother had so diligently stamped into my face a few minutes before the wedding, then she could as well kill me before I have to walk down the aisle to marry the man I don’t know anything about.

“Oh, yes! You guessed it all right. This is an arranged marriage, and funny how something so old school was happening to me right now in this twenty-first century. I mean, what could I have possibly done in my past life to deserve this?”

Last week, Dad had invited me to dinner because he had something very important to discuss, and that was when he told me I would be getting married to the first son of the Klein family.

Oh yes, he didn’t ask me, he told me, and I know it was my stepmother’s idea.

Rumor had it that the man had gone to prison for a year, but I wasn’t sure what the charge was. No one knew who he was or what he looked like, but my dearest father wanted me to marry him.

According to him, Mr. Klein had promised to buy off his on-the-edge-of-bankruptcy company for a good price and help me settle his debt; the one that accumulated from my stepmother and her daughter’s excess spending if he agreed to marry off one of his daughters to his first son.

I wondered why they didn’t choose Sasha for that, why it had to be me. Then they said it was because I was more mature for the task of getting married to him. I was cool-headed and grounded.

Sighing, I sniffed back my tears at the same time I heard my stepmother speak behind me. “You really should be glad we’re giving you this honor. You’re saving your father’s company, don’t you think?” Beverly’s hard-as-granite voice said to me, and I wanted to roll my eyes at that. So much for giving me the honor. Why not give her own daughter the honor of marrying someone she had never met, someone she never loved? Why should that be me?

“Yes, I suppose it is,” I whispered even though I don’t believe that one bit. Looking down at the dress I was wearing, a simple white chiffon dress that Beverly had picked up for me, a dress that looked as if it was made for someone twice my size, I shook my head. If anyone had told me that this would be my wedding dress, or that I would be getting married right out of college, I would have thought they were batshit crazy.

Her excuse for picking out this ridiculous dress was that she didn’t have the time to find me a better dress since it was all on short notice. I had wanted to scoff and say, “Oh, so you know it’s short notice,” but I had just swallowed it down and smiled.

When my mother left a few years after I was born to chase a career in acting, my father had raised me on his own, caring for me the best he could until he got tired of being alone and married Beverly. After that, well, my life spiraled out of control, turning it into a case of modern Cinderella. Our stories are far different, though, because my mother had left; she didn’t die, and I didn’t have three stepsisters. I only have one, but she was all three in one for me, very nasty and unpleasant.

Speaking of, or in this case, thinking of the devil, and she appeared, in her Gucci shoes, ones I don’t have the luxury of wearing. With the way she was dolled up, one might think she was the one getting married today.

“Oh, Camila. Aren’t you the blushing bride?” She said as she walked to where I sat, a silly grin on her face. It was as if she knew something I didn’t know because that smile sure looked suspicious. I decided it was best to ignore her. I couldn’t let her get to me; she was having fun at my expense, and the worst thing I could do was let it get to me or show her it was getting to me.

“Father said to come get you. It’s time,” Sasha said, and then she walked to her mother. Careful not to crease my dress any further, I carefully stood up and walked out of the room and through the side of the church to the large doors at the second entrance.

As I stood there, waiting for the door to open, my heart slammed against my ribcage, and all I could focus on was my breathing because the last thing I wanted was to fall down and faint. It would not only be embarrassing to me but to my family, and they would really roast me if I did let that happen.

The doors opened, and I started to walk forward, my eyes looking around at the people inside to see that they were all looking at me with smiles on their faces. Was I expected to smile as well? I wasn’t feeling like it, though. I tried managing a small smile, but nothing was working, and it probably looked like a contorted one.

“You can do this, Camila,” I said to myself mentally, even though I didn’t feel like I could. I was really scared, and my heart wouldn’t stop pounding. I still wasn’t looking ahead to see who I was marrying because I didn’t want any expression of surprise to show on my face when I did. My father would probably have a fit and die if he noticed that.

Finally, I got to the altar, glancing at my father who was standing there behind me as I faced my groom. I still wasn’t looking at him. I couldn’t. The priest started to talk, but I wasn’t hearing him. I zoned him out completely, focusing on nothing in particular, then suddenly, I heard my name, and I realized it was my father that whispered it.

I looked over my shoulder to see him glaring at me as if I had just committed a grave offense. I caught my bottom lip between my teeth and started to worry my pinky finger, tugging at it with my other fingers.

Turning back to face the groom whom I was still too scared to look at, I peeked at him to see he was looking at me with a small smile on his face, causing a dimple to show on the left side of his face. Holy s**t! My eyes widened as I saw him. What? This was the man I’m supposed to marry? He looked to be in his early thirties, I wasn’t sure, when I had expected him to be around his late thirties or early forties.

I was twenty five years old college graduate, about five feet seven with longer legs than I should have, but I guess I was okay. This man in front of me made me look pale in comparison when it came to beauty. I looked boring aside my brown eyes with gold hue around the pupils and my long golden hair.

He stood about six feet tall or maybe there were a couple of inches to him, and he was the most gorgeous man I had ever seen, and that wasn’t an exaggeration. He had green eyes, I know, but even those looked intense, and they added to his looks. His skin was tanned and that seem to compliment his hair.

His hair was so dark but I couldn’t call it black entirely, but he looked rugged as well, rough on the edge kind of man. Either way, he was really handsome.

How come my stepmother was letting me marry this gorgeous man and not her daughter? Oh, right! He’s the bad apple of his family, and Sasha doesn’t deserve anything less than perfect.

I could see it though, the anger on his face he was trying not to show, and somehow, that made him look even hotter.

Soon, the priest started the marriage vows and he started to say them after him, but all I could do was marvel at his voice. He had one of those raspy voices that seemed to be trapped in between the back of the throat and the vocal cords. Not sure I was explaining that very well.

Now, it was my turn, and then I froze. Wait, what was this man’s name? I just knew he was from the Klein family; I had been so out of it from the news that I would be marrying a stranger I had no time to check him out or anything like that.

Behind me, I heard my father clear his throat, and I swallowed hard. Oh, did I forget to say that he scared me sometimes, especially when things weren’t going his way? It was as if he was now mixed with my stepmother and acted like her sometimes.

“Huh, I, Camila Ellis, take…” I trailed off, swallowing hard. What the heck was his name? I looked at him to see if he would be nice enough to tell me his name, but he wasn’t looking at me like he did when I first looked up at him. He was looking away, and there was no smile on his face again. It was as if he was now bored, and couldn’t wait to leave this place. What was I thinking anyway? That he liked what he saw when he saw me and couldn’t help but be nice? He had probably been laughing at me, and I thought he was trying to be nice.

I remembered the family had four boys and a girl. I read about it somewhere, but I wasn’t sure of this one’s name. There was a Liam, Ethan or Ezra, I wasn’t sure. A Declan, Miles, and huh… “Zeke?” I called out, causing people to gasp.

Holy s**t, I was going to get killed. Again, I could feel the stare from behind me, and I knew my father would have killed me with his eyes if looks could kill.

“It’s Zion!” The man in front of me said. Oh, so nice of you to supply that name after I’ve humiliated myself. Who the hell names their kids Zion anyway? No offense to people with the name.

“I take Zion to be my lawfully wedded husband, in front of God and man, through it all, till death do us part.” I really wanted to just leave here as soon as possible before I die from the embarrassment I was feeling. I looked at the groom as he regarded me with an amused expression on his face, like he was going to have fun teasing me about the mistake, then he looked away.

“With this ring, I wed thee.” He said, lifting up my left hand to slide on a huge-ass rock, a ring with white gold and diamonds. When it was my turn, my hands trembled as I lifted it to pick his and slide the ring on his finger.

“You may now kiss the bride,” the priest said, and I froze again. Well, it was done. Now, I was in it for the long run, except if Zack—sorry, Zion—decided he didn’t want to see my sorry face anymore and divorce me. I should have run when I had the chance; I should have just bailed and left Sasha to bail my father out of the crisis she and her mother had created with their spendings.

I suddenly remembered that the priest had instructed the groom to kiss me, so I raised my head to do my part as I knew every pair of people’s eyes were on us, waiting to probably see me faint, or something dramatic to happen.

Zion bent his head towards mine, as if he was really going to kiss me, so I closed my eyes and waited, but all I felt was a small touch to my cheek, and that was all. That wasn’t the embarrassing part; it was the fact that it took me a few minutes to realize that the kiss had happened and was over, and I was still standing there with my eyes closed and my mouth slightly open.

Somewhere in the church, I heard Sasha say, “Oh God, get a grip on your emotions. This isn’t a love union,” and some people laughed.

I blinked my eyes open, blinking back the tears that were threatening to drop, then I sniffed and looked up at my new husband. He was looking at me again, but this time, he had a look of anger in his eyes. Damn, even my husband couldn’t wait to kill me.