Reckoning
Sara Fields
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Epilogue
Afterword
Mafia and Billionaire Romances by Sara Fields
Books of the Alpha Brotherhood Series
Books of the Omegaborn Trilogy
Books of the Vakarran Captives Series
Books of the Captive Brides Series
Books of the Terranovum Brides Series
Sci-Fi and Paranormal Romances by Sara Fields
More Stormy Night Books by Sara Fields
About the Author
Copyright © 2021 by Stormy Night Publications and Sara Fields
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Published by Stormy Night Publications and Design, LLC.
www.StormyNightPublications.com
Fields, Sara
Reckoning
Cover Design by Korey Mae Johnson
Images by Shutterstock/Inara Prusakova, 123RF/toncsi, and Shutterstock/Kozyrina Olga
This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults.
Chapter 1
Willow
“Do you take this man as your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?”
“I do.”
It was always the same. Sometimes the priest conducting the ceremony would switch it up, which made it at least remotely interesting. Some of them were serious in their delivery, others cute, and some of them were just flat out unique in a sort of weird way, but this one was pretty run of the mill. All in all, it was a rather boring ceremony.
This was a normal wedding in a normal church with normal people who thought they were witnessing the happiest moment in two normal people’s lives.
It was all a lie. Every last wasted cent that went into this whole charade.
I was surrounded with more beauty and money than I could shake a stick at. My wedding dress was from some famous designer I couldn’t remember the name of, and it had come with a price tag of at least ten thousand dollars and that didn’t even include the veil, the lingerie beneath it, and the custom-made Louboutins on my feet. The church venue cost a great deal and so did all the flowers and decorations I’d demanded through the wedding planning process because I wanted what I want, and my groom’s bank account could afford it. He wanted to spoil me, and I let him.
I think this was my most expensive wedding to date and that was saying something.
If only they gave out trophies for that sort of thing.
“Do you take this woman as your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold…”
Blah blah blah. I stopped listening to his voice and waited for what would come next.
“I do.”
The groom’s blue eyes danced with excitement. He thought this was all real, which meant that I’d done my job perfectly.
He was probably just excited for the honeymoon that he’d never have.
I’d be gone before he knew what to do with himself.
I’d lost count of how many weddings I’d been in; of how many times I’d been the blushing happy bride standing at the altar. I’d planned more than a dozen of them at this point. I’d worn pretty much every different style of wedding dress that I could find. I’d had every type of cake. I’d been married outdoors, in a church, in a country club, on a boat, and even in a barn. I’d had Michelin star catering at my reception, and I’d had an outdoor barbeque at another and then everything else there could possibly be in between.
The venue was unremarkable. It was pretty, but that’s really all it had going for it. The church was covered in red roses. His tux was black, but the bow tie matched the flowers that surrounded us. Pretty scarlet bows decorated the stained-glass church windows and at least one hundred people sat in the pews watching the two of us take our lifelong vows together.
They didn’t know that my name wasn’t Sophia Jackson, that it was really Willow Rose, or that there wasn’t a single one of them who would see my face ever again.
Especially Dean Waterhouse.
This was going to hit him the hardest.
You see, he thought I was his perfect match. Each of my marks always did. I changed my look, my accent, and my behavior for each one of them. Sometimes that meant that my hair color was different, or I did my makeup to look like someone else, or that my entire wardrobe was modified to exactly what they would like. The people I worked for had deep pockets and they wanted to make sure I had everything I needed to do my job flawlessly.
Those blue eyes sparkled as they searched mine. Afraid that I’d let the ruse fall for a second, I smiled warmly in his direction and his lips turned up with joy. The corners of his eyes crinkled, and I was positive that this was the happiest day of his life.
“I love you,” he whispered.
“I love you too,” I mouthed back. I kissed the tip of my forefinger and held it up in the air. It had been our little thing ever since he’d taken me out on his yacht when he’d asked me out on a second date.
Like we’d found each other when the other was lost, beacons of hope no matter the direction of the wind.
Dean liked the cheesy stuff. The sweeter the better so I poured it on like rain.
Dean had been one of my easier marks. I could mostly be myself around him, which was pretty convenient. It was always the toughest when I had to become something of a persona. The last one had liked French girls and it had been some serious work to make sure I never dropped the accent, not even once.
Before I’d even met him, I knew that Dean liked his woman to be independent, feisty, and a real go-getter. He enjoyed when
