Spoiling His Reluctant Runaway Bride

After the car rolled to a stop and the headlights went out, Serena dashed over excitedly. "Hi there! Sorry to bother you, I'm kinda lost. Could you maybe drop me off somewhere I can catch a ride?" Matthew smirked, the curve of his lips carrying a hint of mischief. "It'd be my pleasure, Ms. Dawson." She instantly froze-the voice wasn't right. Under the dim porch light, she glanced sideways...and yep, it was Matthew. Her first instinct was to bolt, but a hand caught her just in time. "Running away?" "W-Who's running? I was just... just... walking the wrong way." Matthew gave a low, teasing chuckle, stepping closer with a slow, easy confidence until she was backed against the wall, no exit in sight. He leaned down, eyes locked onto hers as she kept nervously avoiding his gaze. "The wrong way? You mean from the study window all the way to the side villa-like that's an accidental detour?" Speechless, Serena stiffened like a board, shut her eyes, furrowed her brows and nodded firmly. "Yep. Totally got turned around." "This whole area-ten miles in every direction-is Quinn property. As the lady of the house, you've got total freedom to get 'lost' anywhere you like." Matthew straightened, leaned against his motorcycle, and casually lit a cigarette as he spoke. Serena had barely caught her breath when that bomb dropped. "Wait... Wait, all of this... is your family's?" He exhaled a thin stream of smoke. "Don't believe me?" "No, no! I believe you! Totally believe you!" Considering Quinn Corp's massive worth, and how the Quinn family had ruled Westbridge's wealth rankings for decades, Serena never doubted it for a second. Internally though? She was berating herself for being so dense. 'Ten minutes of running and I thought I'd escaped the estate? Girl, wake up.' The life of the rich really was another planet. From the main villa to this side villa-she'd hobbled all the way on a bad foot, and she was still within the Quinn compound. Absolutely ridiculous. Matthew put out his cigarette with a flick and let out a low chuckle. He reached out and tilted her chin up with one finger, his voice soft but unsettling. "Still planning on getting 'lost,' Ms. Dawson?" "Nope. I... I've got the path memorized now." He looked pleased. "Good. Can't wait to see your upcoming performance, Mrs. Quinn. Or, I could always have the driver take you to your fifty-year-old fiancé." Serena's face went pale the moment that number left his lips. Clearly, he was already onto everything that had gone down today. He even knew about her and that old man. Made sense, though. With the kind of security surrounding the Quinn mansion, there's no way Matthew would bring home just anyone to play pretend wife. He must've made sure she was someone with zero connections, who he could keep in check. Had to be when she was changing at the hotel. He must've dug into her background then. But all that in just a few minutes? That thought gave her chills. Still, she forced out a bright, cheerful smile and turned on the charm. "Promise to deliver a stellar performance." Matthew turned coolly, hopped on his bike, and looked back. "You getting on or not?" She quickly slid sideways onto the seat behind him, tentatively tugged on the corner of his jacket-then immediately pulled back like she got burned. Now what? Where was she even supposed to hold on? The bike suddenly jerked forward, and she lurched, smacking straight into his back with her chin and letting out a pained hiss. "Hold on tight." "Oh-okay, got it..." Her hands trembled as she nervously wrapped them around his waist. Being this close, she could catch a faint whiff of his cologne. And with the way they were sitting... her cheeks started to burn.