Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 75723 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75723 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
I had plans for a gag and a good set of zip ties. After all, she didn’t look like she weighed much. Easy to carry out into the night and the SUV waiting down the block from the church, then into my private jet. My head of security, slash bodyguard, slash kind of a friend—because when you live alone, you don’t have many friends, and the ones you do have happen half by necessity and half by accident—Hans had other ideas. I guess he wanted to basically carry two of us over his shoulder into the jet.
It is why I’m now currently sitting on the edge of the bed where my new wife is lying, and I’m waiting for her to wake up. She’s tied at the wrists with silk ties because silk is soft and non-threatening. Her head will hurt, and she’ll feel foggy. As it is, she’ll probably scream bloody murder. But I don’t want her to try and escape and hurt herself. We need to talk first.
I swear, I’m really not one for proxy weddings, chloroform, kidnapping, and restraints. Also, my brother is a total asshole for this.
Hans gives me a look from where he’s sitting across the room in a chair that’s barely big enough to contain his brute presence. The guy is six-five or six-six, and he has over three hundred pounds of muscle. He always reminds me of a bull about to go apeshit with delight in any shop he pleases, fine glass dishes or otherwise. With no neck, a shaved head, and tattoos galore, no one would guess that at heart, he’s a big softie who likes aged cheese, cotton candy, any and all books, soft kittens, and even the sappiest of movies.
“Whee am I? You dlugged me? Yowwwrrrr a blig flat dwickheaddddd. Let me go wight wow.”
My wife is awake.
Despite her slurred speech and unfocused eyes with the scary big pupils, Everleigh pulls violently at the restraints on her wrists and then kicks her legs out, testing the ties. She looks at me furiously but also with panic as soon as her eyes are able to lock onto something and fixate there. She’s a feral, hissing cat, spitting with rage and indignation. Not that I blame her.
“Whoa. Okay. First things first.” I’m not that far away, and I didn’t realize how threatening it might seem, so I lifted my hands in a peaceful gesture. She gets even redder in the face. “Alright, so I did take you to my house, but you’re safe here. The restraints aren’t meant to hurt you. They’re soft, and they’re just tight enough to hold you so you don’t run and get yourself into trouble or hurt yourself. You need to stay calm, and we need to talk things out.” I take a deep breath because it seems appropriate here, and I also need it. “I didn’t know what my brother was planning. He said he’d found a way out of our problems. A woman who agreed to a fake marriage for a payment of one million dollars. Then, he told me to be at the church at eleven thirty. I didn’t know he was going to stand in for me as a proxy or that he had tricked you. I thought you knew who you were marrying. The wire transfer came from me. I sent it ahead of time. Same for the paperwork. It wasn’t supposed to be a deception. I swear that much to you.”
Her nostrils flare, her lips twist, and she’s no doubt trying to find the words in her bone-dry mouth and heavy head to curse me out and tell me that I’m a liar and a con, that I can go straight to hell, and that she hopes my dick rots and falls off first from some strange curse. “Where were you when your brother was lying to me and marrying me and standing in for you then?”
“I was at the church,” I admit. “But I needed a bit more time. Things are…Bradford knew…he…” Fuck, well, this is going smashingly well. “What my brother did was deplorable, but it doesn’t change anything. I still need a wife, and we’re still married. You need to calm down and be rational. If you want to leave, you can, but you have to return the money, and from what my brother said, I’ve gathered that you need it. Maybe we can come to another agreement between ourselves—a legit one that has nothing to do with my brother’s treachery. Then, you’ll see that I’m not so terrible despite what people have said and what you’ve already deduced for yourself.”
“I…what do you want with me then?” Her speech is improving. It’s no longer slurred, which is a good sign.
“Beyond having you as my fake wife for six months? Nothing. You can blame this one on my grandmother.”