The Billionaire's Brat Wants Me Chapter 116: An Unofficial Promise

Mornings with Val were always the sa: she woke up first, I clung to sleep like it was oxygen, and she made it her personal mission to ruin that for .

I was out cold, wrapped in blankets and dreams, when sothing soft poked against my cheek. Once. Twice. Then again, in an irritatingly steady rhythm.

I groaned, face buried deeper into the pillow.

That only made her double down. Poke. Poke. Poke.

"Val..." My voice was gravel, my brain still clinging to the idea that I could win this battle. "I’ll get up. Just give a sec."

Except instead of giving a second, she leaned over , close enough that I could feel her breath against my ear. And then—warm, wet, and entirely evil—she licked it.

I shot upright with a full-body shiver, clutching the side of my face like I’d been electrocuted. "What the hell was that?!"

She was already laughing, eyes sparkling, dimples cutting into her cheeks like she’d been waiting for this mont her entire life.

> "Morning, husband."

I blinked at her, still reeling, ears burning—not just from her ambush but from the word. Husband. She said it so casually, like it was already carved into stone sowhere.

I collapsed back onto the mattress with a groan. "You never let sleep in, do you?"

Her smile faltered for the first ti, just a touch. She tilted her head, almost sheepish. "Sorry."

That made pause. I turned my head on the pillow and studied her. Her big eyes were wide, apologetic—though not entirely. There was sothing behind it, so kind of quiet mischief that never left her no matter how soft she looked.

We stared at each other for a beat, then I sighed. "You’re still gonna do it again tomorrow, aren’t you?"

Her lips curved into the smallest, most unapologetic smile. "Definitely."

I let my head fall back. "Unbelievable. Why do I even try?"

Her giggle—light, delighted—was the only answer I got.

I stayed where I was, stretched out on my back, letting my eyes close again. For about three seconds, it was quiet. Then I felt it. That stare. Heavy. Intentional.

I cracked one eye open. She was watching , chin propped in her palm, studying like I was one of her books.

"That look," I muttered. "You want sothing."

Her mouth twitched. "You really do know , huh? My husband knows best."

I groaned into the pillow, though secretly I was fighting a smile. "Flattery isn’t gonna make say yes."

"Who says I’m asking for anything?" she teased.

"Because you always are." I turned my head fully now, narrowing my eyes at her. "Co on. Out with it. What is it this ti?"

She gasped softly, hand flying to her chest like I’d accused her of a cri. "Wow. The way you say it, you make sound insane."

"Because you are," I deadpanned.

Her pout deepened, though the glint in her eye gave her away. "I only ask for crazy things sotis."

"All of the ti."

She pressed a hand dramatically to her heart, as though I’d struck her down. "Ouch."

I just stared at her, waiting, daring her to actually co up with sothing that wasn’t outlandish for once.

She held my gaze for a mont, then finally broke into a grin. "Fine. My ring."

I groaned, dragging both hands down my face. "See? Called it."

Her lower lip jutted out imdiately, pout locked and loaded. "But you promised. You said you’d get one."

"I said I would eventually," I corrected, voice muffled through my palms. "Didn’t say when."

"That’s unfair." She tugged the blanket off my chest like it was sohow part of her argunt.

"Unfair?" I pushed myself up on one elbow, looking at her. "Val, you don’t even need a new ring. You probably have—what—ten? Twenty? Half your jewelry box is rings."

"Not the kind I want," she countered instantly, eyes wide and pleading. "The one you’ll get will be special. Because it’s from you."

I froze. Because of course she had to go and say sothing like that. Soft. Honest. Hitting exactly where she knew it would.

My chest tightened, the fight draining right out of . I looked at her again—really looked—and for all her pouts and dramatics, there it was. That softness in her eyes. That quiet sincerity. Only, just beneath it, hiding in plain sight, was the faintest spark of mischief.

I narrowed my eyes. "That was intentional, wasn’t it?"

She blinked innocently, tilting her head. "Was what intentional?"

"That whole ’special because it’s from you’ line."

Her grin finally broke through. "Did it work?"

I groaned again, dragging a hand down my face for the hundredth ti that morning. "Unbelievable."

"Smart, though," she said proudly, sliding off the bed like she’d just won a trophy.

I dropped back against the pillow, defeated, as she leaned in close and pressed a quick kiss against my cheek. "I’m gonna take a shower and get ready. Don’t miss too much, husband."

Then she skipped off toward the bathroom, humming under her breath, her mood ten shades brighter than when she first woke .

I stared at the ceiling, one arm over my eyes, and exhaled slowly.

She had . Again. And we both knew it.

---

We showered, dressed, and ate breakfast, the usual morning rhythm slipping into place. By the ti we stepped out into the morning air, warm sunlight spilling over the driveway, she was practically bouncing on her toes as we slid into the car.

I buckled my seatbelt and turned to her, eyebrow raised. "So. Where to?"

Her grin widened imdiately, like she’d been waiting for to ask all day. "You pick. You’re buying."

I let out a short laugh, shaking my head. "Val, I don’t have that kind of money to spend."

Before I could get another word in, she cut across . "I didn’t say I wanted an expensive ring. I just want one. From you."

She said it like it was the simplest thing in the world. Like she hadn’t just upended my morning with ear-licking ambushes and vows. And the way her eyes lit up—too bright, too hopeful, too much—it actually made my chest ache a little.

It wasn’t about the ring. It was about . Us.

I stared at her for a second, then nodded and started the car.

We drove in comfortable silence, the radio low in the background.

The jewelry store was brighter than I expected—glass displays catching the light, rings glittering in neat little rows like they were all showing off.

We walked slowly down the aisle, her eyes darting everywhere, mine mostly glued to her expression instead of the rings. The clerk, a neatly dressed woman with an easy smile, approached us.

"Good morning," she greeted. "Looking for sothing special today?"

I opened my mouth, but Val beat to it.

"Our engagent ring," she said, her tone sweet as honey. "We’re getting married."

I choked on air. Actually choked. The clerk lit up instantly, beaming at us. "Oh, congratulations!"

anwhile, I was turning red beside her, trying not to sputter. Val just smiled, smug and radiant, like this was the most natural truth in the world.

The clerk led us toward the cases, showing options, talking about tals and cuts and settings, but I barely heard any of it. Val’s hand slid into mine as she leaned down, eyes scanning the rows with an almost childlike awe.

After a while, she pointed to a simple band with a subtle curve, nothing too flashy. "That one," she said softly, more to herself than anyone else.

I nodded and went to pay, my wallet already bracing for impact.

Which ant she was alone.

---

I was signing the receipt when I glanced back. A guy—tall, sharp jaw, slick hair—had strolled up to her.

He leaned in slightly, voice smooth. "Hey beauty."

Val’s head snapped up, expression unimpressed. "No."

The guy blinked. "Relax. I just wanna talk."

"I’m married," she shot back instantly.

His gaze flicked to her hand, bare. He smirked. "I don’t see a ring."

Her chin tilted up, eyes flashing. "My husband went to get it."

The guy actually froze at that. I almost laughed.

I walked back just in ti for her to slip her arm through mine, her grip firm, her expression smug. She gave the stranger a look so sharp it could’ve sliced glass.

The guy looked between us, shook his head, muttered sothing under his breath, and wandered off.

I glanced at her, eyebrow raised. "What was that about?"

She flipped her hair, her voice featherlight. "Just a ntally unstable person who thought he was in a position to negotiate."

I chuckled but decided not to push it.

---

We walked out together, sunlight spilling onto the pavent as we made our way back to the car. Once we reached it, she slipped her arm out of mine, her expression shifting.

Then she turned, stretched her hand out toward , palm up, fingers wiggling expectantly.

I stared at her for a beat, then chuckled softly. "Really?"

Her grin widened.

I pulled the box from my pocket, flipped it open, and slid the band gently onto her finger. For once, she didn’t beam or smirk or tease. She just stared down at it, eyes softening, shoulders relaxing, all that chaos lting into sothing quiet.

"I love it," she whispered.

My throat tightened. "Good. You deserve it."

Her smile deepened as she slipped the second band—the pair—onto my finger. The gesture was careful, reverent.

Then we both slid into the car. I started the engine, the soft purr filling the silence.

When I glanced over, she was staring at her hand again. Her lips pressed together, quivering like she was holding sothing back. Her lashes fluttered too fast, the way they always did when she was fighting tears.

"Val?" I asked imdiately. "What’s wrong?"

She shook her head, biting her lip. "Nothing. I’m just... so happy right now."

The words were barely above a whisper, and for a second, I almost forgot how to breathe.

She blinked the tears away, laughed softly at herself, and declared, "I’m never taking it off."

I reached over, ruffled her hair, unable to stop my grin. "Sure. Whatever makes you happy."

She leaned back against her seat, still staring at her hand like it was the most precious thing in the world.

And ? I just kept driving, the road stretching ahead, the weight of her hand in mine making it clear—whether the ring was official or not, there was no undoing this. No undoing us.

---

To be continued...