Pulling out the paper I’d printed at the library, I stared at it with excitement thrumming in my veins.
Live-in property & pet caretaker needed. Four-year minimum. Background check required. Generous compensation. Marriage of convenience required.
I wasn’t exactly sure why this entire thing looked so… exciting to me. But the thought of having someone at my back, someone that may or may not protect me in the event that my aunt screwed me like I knew she was going to do, made me flitter with anticipation.
I had these feelings. These feelings of the wrongness or rightness of a situation.
I’d had them my entire life.
That was how I knew that the lawyer that I’d chosen—one of three—had been the right one, and the other two had been the wrong ones.
That was how I’d began to trust Six, my best friend.
That was how I’d avoided my aunt’s first and second attempted ‘hit’ on me, too.
Yes, you heard that correctly.
My aunt tried to have me murdered.
I didn’t have proof, no. But I knew, deep down in my heart, that she had.
I wasn’t dumb. Brand new brake lines didn’t just ‘go out.’
And people didn’t just ‘accidentally’ almost-stab you with a knife when you just so happen to turn twenty-five that day and your accounts are officially released to you.
Anyway, the feeling that I had when I read that ad? It hit me in a way that nothing ever had before.
That sense of rightness had only been associated with four people in my life.
My mom, my dad, my uncle Deighton, and my best friend, Six.
Nothing had ever felt ‘right’ like this in a long time.
And that was why I was meeting the man in an hour and a half.
That was why I’d agreed to his terms already.
That was why, in the matter of an hour, I would be getting married and making this official as could be.
A practical stranger to me.
We’d already worked it out.
He’d be leaving within hours of our nuptials to places unknown.
All would be explained to me as soon as I met him at the courthouse.
We’d exchanged all of two emails back and forth.
One from me saying I was interested in the ad. One from him saying the ad had a time limit that was quickly approaching. One back from me saying ‘I was in.’ And one to me saying where to meet him and he’d explain in more detail.
That was it.
I was marrying the man based on zero information.
CHAPTER 2
If Beauty and the Beast taught us anything, it’s that looks don’t matter as long as you keep her locked up long enough.
-Hunt to Wyett
HUNT
I was nervous.
I wasn’t sure why I was nervous.
I wasn’t nervous about going to prison for at least four years in just a few short hours.
But I was nervous about meeting my eyelash girl.
It’d taken far longer for her to respond than I ever thought it would take, and the length of time in which she’d thought about it made me happy.
Happy that she wasn’t jumping into something without first thinking it through.
It showed me that she had a good head on her shoulders as well as a pretty one.
“Thanks for the ride,” I said to my neighbor.
My neighbor that lived two warehouses down from mine grinned. “No problem.”
Then he drove away, leaving me outside the courthouse looking up.
Our courthouse wasn’t anything special.
A plain brick building that had seen better days.
It didn’t even look all that fantastical like most old courthouses did.
No big clock tower. No beautiful brick walls. No large pillars out front.
Just a dank, ugly white brick building with mildew on it that needed to be power-washed off two years ago.
But what made it beautiful was the woman that I could see at the front doors, waiting for me.
She looked serene standing there in a pale blue dress that reached to just below her knees.
She reminded me of a princess. Beautiful, regal, but refined.
I found that the enticement of seeing her long legs covered up by that gently waving dress was more of a turn on than seeing her actual legs would be.
And I would know. I’d seen enough of her photos—I was a grade A stalker at this point—to know what she looked like with less on.
Her friend, Six, posted a shit ton of pictures.
I’m talking so many that it wasn’t even funny.
I had enough spank bank material with Wyett looking directly at the camera to last me a lifetime.
Though, one day I hoped to experience her in real life.
The moment I breached the steps, her mouth all but fell open.
“I remember you! Eyelash puller!” she cried, pointing at me accusingly.
I laughed. “I call you eyelash girl.”
“I can’t… how… what are you doing here?” she all of a sudden blurted.
“I’m here to get married.” I paused. “Why?”
I had to play the game after all.
Her eyes widened even more.
“To, uh, someone you know?” she asked hopefully.
I shrugged. “I was actually meeting her here. Her name’s Wyett… do you know her?”
Her eyes closed briefly before she pried them open again, her spine straightening almost imperceptibly. “I’m Wyett.”
Fuck, she was cute.
“Ahh,” I said. “Well that’s good news then. I was about to ask you to marry me instead.”
At that, she burst out laughing. “Do you normally ask women you barely know to marry you?”
I know you very, very well. Almost as much as I know myself.
“No,” I admitted. “Not unless it’s necessary.”
She tilted her head. “Necessary? Why is it necessary?”
“I’ll tell you after we’re done.” I gestured to the door and then moved to pull it open for her. My chest brushed across her back, and she shivered. “The judge has us in about two minutes. And his day is full with other things. If we don’t go now, we might miss our chance.”
Fifteen minutes later, we were back in the same spot with a marriage certificate in my hands.
She blinked at me in surprise. “That was fast.”
I looked at my watch.
“I have a
