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)
In the sexy church mood lighting, which probably isn’t a correct turn of phrase at all, this guy is all shadows and hard angles, but under different, warmer lighting, his hair is probably auburn or chestnut instead of black. Or it’s some other token word for brown. But that’s not important. What’s important is why he’s here and why he’s looking at me like that. Well, actually, looking at us like that. Like a great travesty just occurred here, and some wretched crime was committed. Please don’t let me be going to jail for this already. This isn’t how the fairy tale is supposed to go.
There is something off about this guy’s eyes, and it’s not just the intensity of his feral stare. His pupils are huge. Bradford’s arm slips around my waist, steadying me, and I’m grateful for it. The magnitude of this stranger’s gaze could bowl anyone over. He’s the polar opposite of Bradford’s blonde, light, and angelic looks, and yet…the angles and features, well, they’re quite…similar.
“Darling,” Bradford drawls in a bored tone, his hand clenching my waist, not protectively, no, but to keep me from running. I want to wrench it away. I want to get as far away from him as I possibly can. Foreboding crashes over me, and my blood rushes through my veins, thick and heated with adrenaline. “I’d like you to meet Bradford Anderson. Your husband.”
I know nothing about defending myself physically, but it’s second nature to slam my foot down on Bradford’s square-toed leather shoe and elbow him in the ribs. Unfortunately, I’m about as effective as a mosquito, and he swats me away and tightens his arm all at once, pulling me against him.
“What the hell are you talking about? You’re my husband!” Okay, so I’m out of control. That was pretty much a shriek, but how can I be composed when the man I just married pointed to a damn stranger, gave him his name, and called him my husband?
My stomach rolls painfully, and I think I’m going to throw up. Bile surges up my throat, and I press my lips shut just to not barf on the church floor. I’m not in the right direction to aim for Bradford, but my god, I’d like to aim for him or not at all. No barfing unless I can ruin his suit and shoes. It’s a new law.
“No, sweetheart. That’s not the agreement. I stood in by proxy for my brother, which is allowed. The paperwork was signed by both of you, and it is all legal and binding. But where are my manners? All of this without a proper introduction.” His grin is lethal. Right now, he’s not the sweetheart, golden child that everyone knows and loves. This isn’t the grin he gives when he shakes hands with business partners and colleagues.
This isn’t the Bradford I know. Is that even his name? My god, what is even happening right now? I’m speechless and frozen while he just keeps on talking, so I have no choice but to listen and process the terrible proof that I’ve just made a horrendous mistake.
“This is Bradford Darius Anderson the Second. My father was the first of the same name. And I’m Bradford Lion Anderson the Third.” Fuck, fuck fuck, that’s why they call him Lion. The Third. Oh my god, it’s not because his grandpa was the first. “Darius prefers his middle name, while I use my given name. Our other brothers are also named Bradford, and they go by their middle names. We all are named Bradford. Another family joke.” He chuckles, and he’s clearly enjoying himself, the bastard. “We seem to have a lot of those going around. My brother, my twin brother, is older than me by a mere seven minutes, but that still makes him the oldest Anderson.”
I twist so I can look up into his face. He’s still so perfect, so handsome, smiling. He’s the devil incarnate, and I didn’t see it coming. He’s so freaking proud of himself. He masterminded this wretched plan, and it all worked out for him so perfectly. He’s getting everything he wanted. Everything. And me? I’m the stupid, naïve girl he tricked into this. He’s the smart one, and I’m nothing.
Now, I remember everything. Everything he said. A wife problem… An heir problem… Six months, one million dollars, and a whirlwind romance no one saw coming. You’ll be swept away, given everything you could ever desire. And, at the end of it, a doctor will declare that you’re not capable of having children, and that will be that. An annulment and everything will be saved. You’ll be that much richer, and everyone’s problems will be solved.
The wife problem wasn’t his. Not per se. I mean, he did have a wife and an heir problem because his brother’s problems were his problems. Bradford never said I would be marrying him. He led me to believe I would be, and because I was stupid and trusting, I believed him and showed up here like an absolute dork.