The Crippled Billionaire's Runaway Bride

Start Reading

It's your legs that are paralyzed, not your equipment.

Roman, the untouchable golden boy, had lost the use of his legs. And Ithe girl who spent years watching him from the sidelinesswooped right in to take advantage of the wreckage.

My gaze dropped to his lap. I gave a careless shrug. Everything still works down there, right?

That night, Romana man whose self-control was usually absolutepulled me down onto his lap. His breath ghosted over my ear, his voice a low, steady hum. "I heard you're an exceptional rider."

I shook my head frantically. "No my legs are already shaking."

Chapter 1

Roman's legs were ruined.

His girlfriend bailed, his closest friends stabbed him in the back, and his illegitimate brother snatched his throne. Overnight, the untouchable golden boy was dragged through the mud, abandoned by everyone.

I stopped dead in the doorway of his hospital room, my fingers tightening around the bouquet in my hands.

Roman sat with his back to me. His broad shouldersnow noticeably thinnershifted.

He reached for the water glass on the bedside table. I couldn't tell if it was out of his reach or if his grip simply faltered.

The glass hit the floor. It shattered into a dozen pieces. The crash was deafening in the dead silence of the room.

Roman dropped his head. His fingers curled inward, twisting the bedsheets into tight knots.

His jaw was rigidly locked, his long fingers digging into the armrests of his wheelchair so hard his knuckles glowed a sickly white.

The sterile white walls boxed him in like a caged animal. A heavy lump formed in my throat, thick and suffocating. I swallowed hard, forcing it down, and rapped my knuckles against the door.

Roman turned his head. The second our eyes met, the sheer pallor of his face and the faint, bloodshot rims of his eyes sent a sharp, physical ache straight through my ribs.

A flash of surprise crossed his face. Something else flickered in those dark depths, but he buried it before I could decode it.

He beat me to the punch. His voice was raw, like crushed gravel. "What are you doing here?"

I strode into the room, bouquet in hand, and flashed a wicked, biting smirk. "Just came to enjoy the show. The untouchable Roman, left entirely off the VIP list."

"I seem to remember a certain someone preaching about finding the love of his life. 'Through thick and thin,' wasn't it?" I let out a dry, mocking laugh. "Guess 'thin' was the dealbreaker."

My words were venomous. Calculated to hit every bruised ego nerve.

Roman didn't snap. He didn't even flinch. He just sat there in absolute, deadened silence, taking every hit of my sarcastic barrage.

He watched me flag down a nurse to sweep up the shattered glass. He watched me march over to the neglected vase, yank out the rotting flowers, and toss them in the trash. I scrubbed the glass clean, filled it with fresh water, and jammed my bouquet inside.

I swept my gaze around the empty, sterile room. "Not even a single lackey on standby. You look pathetic."

Roman finally spoke. "It's lunch hour."

Translation: the hired help was on break.

Like hell that mattered. The billionaire heir couldn't even afford overlapping shifts.

I dragged a plastic chair across the linoleum and dropped into it, holding his gaze. The red rims around his eyes had faded into a cold, blank slate.

I stared at him. Scanned him from the messy strands of his dark hair all the way down to his motionless legs. My eyes must have lingered on his lower half a second too long.

"They're gone," Roman stated. "The doctors say I'm permanently wheelchair-bound."

His voice was entirely flat. Hollow.

I couldn't even begin to calculate the brutal, agonizing nights it took for him to swallow that reality. To force those words out of his mouth without his jaw trembling.

I snapped my head up.

The dam shattered. Hot, heavy tears broke free, sliding down my face in complete silence.

The cold, sarcastic armor I'd meticulously strapped on fractured into pieces.

Roman's gaze hitched. His tightly pressed lips parted. "Why are you crying?" he rasped. "I'm not dead yet."

I launched myself out of the chair and crashed into his chest, throwing my arms around his neck. A ragged sob ripped out of my throat.

Roman didn't push me away. His arms remained planted at his sides, his fists clenching so hard the veins bulged against his skin.

Chapter 2

Five years ago, when I left the States, he hugged me for the first time. It was a goodbye, but mostly, it was charity. Back then, his chest was broad and radiating heat.

But the man I was holding now was practically made of sharp angles. All jutting bones. And freezing cold.

I stepped out of the adjoining bathroom, having scrubbed the tear tracks off my face. "Marry me, Roman." I didn't bother with a warm-up.

Roman's gaze snapped away from the window, locking onto me.

I didn't stop. "You're the family outcast now."

"They're all praying you stay stuck in the mud and never crawl your way back up. You know it, too. The whole city is laughing at you for losing everything."

I stepped closer. "They're laughing because your bastard brother snatched your CEO title. Laughing because your dad's mistress is parading around in the vintage diamonds your mother left you. Laughing because that sweet, unmaterialistic girlfriend of yours didn't even hesitate to jump ship."

I tilted my head. "I heard Celine just got engaged to your so-called best friend, Pierce. It hasn't even been a month"

"What's wrong? Does that piss you off?" I smirked.

The temperature in Roman's eyes dropped below freezing. I did it on purpose. I wanted to rip the scabs right off.

"Let me be your trump card, Roman." I stepped right up to his wheelchair. "Marrying me is the only way you survive this."

I held his stare, radiating absolute certainty. He was going to say yes. I was the best, and frankly the only, viable move he had left on the board.

Roman closed his eyes, swallowing down the ice. When they snapped open, his dark irises were a bottomless, deadened void. "What do you want?"

I stared at him with such unfiltered hunger that he actually averted his gaze. He knew exactly what I wanted. "Don't play dumb. I've only ever wanted you."

A harsh, clipped laugh punched out of Roman's chest. "You want me? I'm a cripple."

He shook his head. "You're making a terrible investment, Delaney."

My gaze dropped straight to his crotch. I didn't blink. "It's your legs that are paralyzed, not your equipment."

The ever-stoic, perfectly composed Roman physically jolted. The sheer audacity of my words robbed him of his voice. A faint, unprecedented flush crept up his pale neck.

He grabbed the hospital blanket and yanked it over his lap, cutting off my line of sight.

That rigid, defensive reaction just made me want to push him harder.

My eyes swept aggressively over his covered lap, dripping with provocation. "How about you let me run a personal field test?"

"Delaney!" he snapped.

I just flashed him a brilliant, shameless smile. I wasn't blushing in the slightest. "Roman, I am the only one who can flip this board for you. Are we in business or not?"

Roman lifted his heavy gaze and locked eyes with me. He didn't say a word. The silence dragged on.

Two months ago, Roman was caught in a brutal car crash. The surgeons managed to pull him back from the edge, but his legs were gone. A lifetime sentence to a wheelchair.

Who was Roman? He was the legitimate heir to the wealthiest family in the city. Born with a silver spoon, drop-dead gorgeous, and armed with a lethal intellect.

He was the absolute apex predator of the old-money elite. The untouchable heir. Limitless potential, razor-sharp edge.

Chapter 3

The second the news broke, I booked the first flight out of New York. I ran straight to him.

Pitching a marriage of convenience was a business transaction, sure, but it was also entirely selfish. With my family's capital backing him, his bloodsucking relatives would be forced to back off. It was the only way he could lock down his title as the heir.

After a suffocating stretch of silence, Roman finally spoke. His tone was dead flat. "Even knowing I don't have feelings for you, you still want to make this trade?"

I flashed a steady, unwavering smile. "Yes."

Feelings? We could build those later. Roman was a good man.

Even paralyzed, I didn't care. Because I was hopelessly obsessed with him.

When you finally collide with the one person who makes your literal bones vibrate, you realize love isn't something you can just switch off.

My crush on Roman wasn't some guarded secret in our circle. Everyone knew. Roman knew.

We grew up together in the same zip code, the same tax bracket. But all that shared history didn't mean a damn thing when Celine walked into the picture.

The second he chose her, I erased myself from his world. I didn't blame him. I didn't hate him, either.

He always kept a calculated distance and never strung me along. When the obsession is entirely one-sided, you don't get to demand a return on investment.

For five years, I genuinely thought I had starved the feeling out. But the moment I laid eyes on him in that hospital room, the truth hit me like a freight train. I couldn't let it go. When you meet someone that blindingly brilliant when you're young, they ruin you for anyone else.

"Fine. Deal."

Roman extended his hand across the bed. A purely professional, corporate gesture. His hand was just like the rest of himflawless. But the formal distance of it grated on my nerves.

I reached out. Right under his blank stare, I bypassed the handshake completely and threaded my fingers through his, locking our hands tightly together.

I gave him a slow smile. "Sealed."

The rumor that I was marrying Roman leaked into the financial circles the next morning. The sharks circling his territory immediately backed off.

I practically lived at the hospital for the next few days. Every time I walked in, I brought fresh flowers. Today's haul was a bundle of sunflowers.

Roman sat propped up against the pillows, a sleek laptop resting on his thighs. His long fingers flew across the dark keys. His expression was locked in absolute, icy focus.

I jammed the sunflowers into the vase and just stared at him.

My gaze physically irritated him. He frowned, his fingers pausing. "Can you stop staring at me?"

I gave him my best innocent look. "Nope. Physically impossible."

I leaned against the counter. "Unless you let me kiss you. Then I might look away."

Roman shot me a sharp, sideways glare. He saw right through my absolute lack of shame. He pressed his lips into a thin line and deliberately turned his focus back to the screen, freezing me out.

I let out a heavy, exaggerated sigh.

The rapid clatter of his keyboard echoed loudly in the quiet room. I knew exactly what he was doing. He was clawing back everything they stole from him, second by second. Even missing half his mobility, Roman wasn't a man who stayed down.

The hospital-issue gown swallowed his frame. He had lost too much weight. The sharp angles of his face were even more pronounced, more lethal.

The collar of his gown hung loose, exposing the jut of his collarbone rising and falling with his breath. Right in the hollow of his throat, a single dark mole stood out against his pale skin.

It completely hijacked my attention.

I was staring a little too hard when a pair of long, pale fingers reached up and calmly buttoned the collar to the very top.

I shot him a thoroughly annoyed look.

There was no need to guard himself like that. I wasn't going to tackle him onto the hospital mattress and devour him.

Even if I'd been starving for him for years.

Chapter 4

I scoffed softly. "You can button up all you want now, but once we're married, I'm just going to rip them all off anyway."

Roman's fingers stalled. He looked at me, taking a slow, deep breath before exhaling heavily.

"Delaney, is staring at men like a complete pervert all you learned during those years in New York?"

The old me had been a little spoiled. Between my immediate family and cousins, I had nine older brothers. Being the only girl of my generation, I was fiercely guarded and pampered enough to have a bit of a temper.

But around Roman? I used to blush at the drop of a hat.

I was perfectly behaved. A complete 180 from who I was now.

"I learned plenty. I can forward you my syllabus if you want." I loved baiting him.

He gave me a withering look and ignored me, redirecting all his attention back to his laptop screen.

I sliced up some fruit and slid the plate toward him. He managed a few bites before stopping. He snapped his laptop shut and rubbed his temples, a flicker of sheer exhaustion crossing his face.

"Let me do it," I volunteered, reaching for him.

Roman's hand shot out, his fingers wrapping around my wrist like a vice. His face was a rigid mask.

"What?" I asked.

"Go downstairs and buy me a drink," he ordered abruptly.

"What kind of drink?"

"Coffee."

I blinked in surprise. "Coffee?" I remembered his stomach was sensitive; he used to only drink mild tea. But now, he needed the high-octane caffeine to sustain the energy required to claw back his empire. He never liked coffee.

Roman cut through my confusion with a firm nod. "Yes. Coffee."

I didn't overthink it. It had been five years; habits changed. I grabbed my bag, walked out of the room, and headed for the elevators.

I stepped out into the lobby and stopped dead in my tracks. No phone. Letting out a frustrated breath, I spun around and took the elevator right back up.

When I pushed the hospital room door open, the privacy curtain around Roman's bed was completely drawn shut. My stomach dropped. Panic flooded my veins, drowning out all rational thought. I sprinted across the floor and ripped the curtain back.

I froze solid. My pupils dilated, my brain short-circuiting. I just stood there, paralyzed, while the sound of the toilet flushing echoed from the adjoining bathroom.

My eyes locked onto Roman's hands. One of his long-fingered hands was holding himself, while the other gripped a wet wipe. The second I tore the curtain back, he froze.

Roman squeezed his eyes shut, his chest heaving as he fought for control. He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing sharply. "Get out." The command was razor-thin, vibrating with barely restrained fury.

That snapped me out of my trance. I scrambled backward, tripping over my own feet as I spun around. My thoughts were a chaotic mess.

The initial shock burned away, instantly replaced by a sickening wave of anxiety. Had I just completely shattered his pride?

Was he humiliated? I cursed my own reckless panic.

I desperately searched for something to say. Anything to smooth over the tension, to lighten the heavy air suffocating the room. My brain scrambled, and what blurted out of my mouth was: "Well it's huge."

The room dropped into a dead, absolute silence. I literally slapped my own hand over my mouth, mentally screaming at myself.

Roman's voice sliced through the thin fabric of the curtain, cold as ice. "What, have you seen enough of other men to form a baseline comparison?"

I blinked. Other men? Not fair. I immediately jumped to my own defense. "I have not!"

Sure, I hadn't practically experienced it, but I wasn't an idiot. I wasn't completely blind to how things worked. I spun back around to face the curtain, raising my voice. "Yours is the only one I've ever seen!"

Chapter 5

The room fell silent again. I felt the conversation had taken a bizarre turn. Why the hell was I debating this with Roman?

"Miss Delaney?" The nurse stepping out of the bathroom shattered the suffocating awkwardness.

By the time the curtain was pulled back, Roman was fully dressed. He shot me a fleeting, weightless glance.

I suddenly found the floor tiles incredibly interesting. I marched over to the bedside table, snatched up my phone, and threw over my shoulder, "Getting that coffee." I bolted out the door.

The day before Roman was discharged, I saw Celine at the hospital. She brushed past me in the hallway, and it took my brain a few seconds to register her face. She either didn't see me, or she simply didn't recognize me.

My mind instantly snapped back to five years ago. Roman was three years older than me. When I was applying to colleges, I originally wanted to pick the same Ivy League school he attended.

Three days after I shared my application list with him, Roman went public with Celine.

The air had been completely sucked out of my lungs the second she appeared.

I snapped back to reality. When I pushed open the door to Roman's room, I strapped my indifferent mask firmly back on.

There was a new fruit basket sitting on the counter. I kept my tone casual. "Who dropped by?"

Roman's voice was completely flat. "A former subordinate. Nobody important."

My eyebrows pulled together. Roman was lying through his teeth. The basket was from Celine, and he was brushing it off as a subordinate. A sharp prick of annoyance flared in my chest. I marched up to his bed. "Roman."

"Hm?" He didn't even lift his head, his eyes glued to his phone.

"Since we're getting married, planting a kiss on you isn't exactly crossing a line, right?"

"What?"

The second he looked up, I leaned in. I aimed straight for his lips, but his reflexes were too fast. My mouth landed squarely on his cheek instead.

A visible flush of irritation crept up Roman's neck. "Delaney, we are in a hospital."

I flashed him a shameless grin. "No one saw. And even if they did, who cares? I'm just kissing my fianc. Perfectly legal."

Roman didn't return to his family's estate after his discharge. Instead, he moved into the riverside mansion his mother had left him. The place had been entirely gutted and retrofitted before he arrived, making the layout completely wheelchair-accessible.

I visited him during the day and left by sunset. I would have killed to move in and watch over him twenty-four-seven, but Roman shut that down immediately. My older brothers were even worse. My oldest brother had issued a flat-out warning: "If you aren't home by eight, I'm coming to drag you out myself."

I had forced a laugh. "You're running a billion-dollar company, you don't need to babysit me. I'll be home."

He had just smiled pleasantly. "That's fine. If I'm tied up, I'm sure one of the other eight can make the trip."

I had smiled like an angel. "You're the best." But the second I turned around, I wanted to scream. Having an army of overprotective brothers was a suffocating nightmare.

Roman's mansion was a forty-five-minute drive from my house. I had my license, so I made the drive myself. His staff already knew my face. I came and went as I pleased.

These days, my favorite hobby consisted of relentlessly teasing Roman and pushing his wheelchair through the estate's sprawling gardens.

But after weeks of perfect attendance, I hadn't shown up for two days straight.

Two days ago, I had been FaceTiming my best friend from Roman's living room. She was looking at me like I needed a psych evaluation. "Delaney, you've completely lost your mind! The guy is paralyzed and you're still throwing yourself at him. Unbelievable."

I had just laughed. "But I'm obsessed with him. I have plenty of trust funds. I can more than afford to keep him and take care of him."

"No, seriously, you're actually going to marry him?" she pressed. "How exactly is the physical side of this marriage going to work?"

Chapter 6

Best friends have zero filter.

"It's fine, it's really not that complicated," I told her casually. "First of all, he's incredibly well-endowed. I checked. Second of all, I've been an exceptional equestrian since I was a kid."

My best friend just stared at me through the screen, her jaw practically unhinged. "Delaney, you don't even blush when you say this stuff anymore."

I kept chatting with her, absolutely shameless, until my phone hit one percent. I hung up the FaceTime call and casually glanced over my shoulder. I froze.

Roman, who was supposed to be inside, was sitting right there on the patio. He had definitely heard every single filthy word that just left my mouth.

Graham, who was standing behind Roman's wheelchair, awkwardly pushed up his glasses. He just gave me a tight, polite smile.

Roman's heavy gaze pinned me to the spot. Heat flooded my cheeks until they burned. I spun on my heel and bolted.

When I arrived at the mansion today, I ran into Graham. Roman's right-hand man was an unassuming guy with a perfectly polished, even-keeled vibe. He greeted me with a professional nod. I smiled back and headed straight for the stairs.

"Miss Delaney."

Graham called out when I was already a few steps up. I paused and looked back.

"Mr. Roman is having a very difficult day," Graham warned softly. "You might want to give him some space and go up later."

I blinked, my hand tightening on the banister. "Got it," I murmured.

Graham turned and walked away. I stared up at the second-floor landing, chewing on my lower lip. After a few seconds of debate, I kept climbing.

Roman spent most of his time working in his study. I softened my footsteps, creeping closer. When I reached the open doorway, I stopped dead.

Roman sat in his wheelchair with his back to me. He was facing the massive bay windows, staring out at the bruising, storm-grey sky. All the lights in the room were off. The heavy shadows turned his broad shoulders into a stark, bleak silhouette.

The air in the room felt suffocatingly thick, pressing down on my chest. I opened my mouth to call his name, but the words died in my throat. My mouth went bone dry. A sharp ache flared in my ribs.

Roman clamped his hands onto the armrests of his wheelchair. He locked his arms and shoved his weight upward, trying to stand. His legs just gave out. He crashed heavily back into the seat.

He braced his arms and tried again. And again. Falling back every single time.

He slammed his fist into the metal rim of the wheelchair. Blood instantly welled up across his knuckles. He dropped his head, heavy, jagged pants ripping from his throat.

Lightning slashed across the sky outside, followed by a deafening crack of thunder. The storm completely drowned out his ragged breathing, but it couldn't wash away the crushing reality of his situation.

Hot tears spilled over my eyelashes. Terrified he would hear me, I slapped both hands over my mouth and spun around. I pressed my spine flat against the cold hallway wall, fighting desperately to swallow down my sobs.

The faint, mechanical hum of the wheelchair wheels rolling across the hardwood finally reached my ears. I scrambled down the hall and ducked into the nearest guest bedroom.

Roman rolled out of the study and disappeared into his master suite. A minute later, the heavy rush of the shower echoed through the walls.

I crept out of the guest room. Driven by some invisible force, I walked straight into his empty study.

The room was a complete wreck. Stacks of financial reports were scattered across the floor, mixed with the jagged, shattered remains of a glass tumbler. The explosive destruction painted a clear picture.

My eyes swept over the wreckage before snagging on a stark flash of red sitting perfectly centered on the desk. I stepped closer.

It was a formal invitation. Celine and Pierce's engagement party.

Roman's laptop was still open. The screen was glaringly bright, locked onto a single text message thread.

[ No matter how much money you make, it doesn't change the fact that you're a cripple. You don't deserve her. ]

It clicked instantly. Celine's engagement party was today. Pierce had deliberately texted him to twist the knife, ruthlessly tearing his wounds wide open.

Chapter 7

When the custom elevator doors slid open on the ground floor, I had just hung up my phone. I lounged on the sofa and gave him a casual wave.

Roman rolled out wearing oatmeal-colored loungewear, a thin grey cashmere throw draped over his legs. His face was a mask of cold, flawless composure. Not a single trace of the explosive wreckage from the study remained.

"Roman, your hand." I grabbed his left wrist and pulled it toward me. His knuckles were coated in glaring, dried blood