Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 82945 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82945 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
“I didn’t decide to do anything, okay? I’m barely holding on here.”
“What the hell was he doing in Dallas?” I say, more to myself than to her.
She walks over and slumps down into the chair across from my desk. “Looking for you, or at least that’s what he said. I think he was checking into the marriage story.”
“Why?” I shake my head. “Why would he care?”
“I suspect the paranoid, violent mobsters you’re trying to work for don’t like to be lied to.”
I rub my face. What the hell is going on right now? “Tell me everything Liam said from the moment he arrived to the moment he left. Don’t leave anything out.”
Her jaw works, but she does it. Fiona might be a wreck, but she’s smart, with a phenomenal memory. I get a detailed story, and when she’s finished, she pulls her knees up and hugs them tightly. Giving me a nice view of her thighs, which she doesn’t seem to notice.
I stand, pacing behind my chair, doing my best not to stare at her legs. What the fuck is wrong with me, thinking about that right now? When she looks like she’s about to puke on my floor any second?
“You’re right, Liam’s skeptical. The others might’ve bought it, but he definitely didn’t. Did he say how long he’d be in town?”
“Didn’t mention it.”
“I’ll get in touch with him. We’ll have to put some of my things in that room.” I raise my eyebrows at her. “Looks like you have a place to stay for a few more days.”
“Great,” she says, tone flat. “One problem solved. I’m not homeless for a little bit longer.”
“You’re lucky I’m not angrier about the champagne.”
She looks up at me, expression boiling with hate. “After everything I’ve been through in the last two days, you’re going to care that I bought some stupid bottles of champagne without asking? After you told a bunch of gangsters we’re married?” Her legs drop down as she leans forward, glaring at me. “You realize you screwed me, right?”
I stop pacing. “I screwed you? If I recall correctly, Fiona, I told you to sit at that bar and not to come find me for any reason. Any reason, including your fucking apartment burning to the ground.”
“My apartment really did burn to the ground!” She balls her hands into fists. “And I’m not the one that said we were married, that was on you. How was I supposed to know you were meeting with a bunch of murdering psychos? I thought you’d be mad. Not homicidal.”
“I’m not homicidal. They are.”
“You know what I mean. I figured I’d get fired. Not shot in the head.”
I grunt, rubbing my face with both hands. Arguing with her isn’t going to solve our problem, but I’m so fucking annoyed she’s acting like I’m at fault here. Calling her my wife was a bad decision, I can admit to that, but it saved her. And it saved my chances at winning their contract.
“All right, look. We can sit here and blame each other, or we can solve this problem.”
“Great.” She leans back, arms crossed. “Solve it.”
I work my jaw. She’s giving me that stubborn glare, and while I find it weirdly fucking attractive, right now is not the time to think about the feeling of her hips under my hands, or my palm brushing against her breasts, or her lips working against mine.
How goddamn pent-up and horny am I right now?
“I already took the first steps the second I left the meeting with the Crowleys. If Liam decides to dig, he’ll find the proper documentation.”
Her jaw drops. “Wait. Hold on. Back up. The proper what now?”
“Documentation.” I stare at her straight-faced. I had hoped I wouldn’t need to tell her this part. I’d quietly dissolve the whole thing before she ever noticed. Just a blip in the system. “I know a judge in Las Vegas, a friend of mine, and he was willing to file the marriage certificate plus backdate it to a couple months ago. He forged both our signatures. Good guy.”
She jumps to her feet. “You did fucking what? Gareth!”
“What did you expect? You don’t have to play along, but we need proof that we’re married. Do you have any idea what the Crowley family is?”
“You can’t just—you can’t just—force me into marriage. This is, like, beyond insane.”
I come around the desk, staring at her. “Listen to me, Fiona. The Crowley family is powerful. They bribe politicians. They buy local elections. If they wanted to scratch the surface of my lie, they could easily do it. I needed to make sure that there were no holes in our story, and filing the paperwork was the most obvious first step.”
“The most obvious first step was maybe you shouldn’t have lied to them in the first place.” She’s seething now. Not that I can blame her. It must be an ugly surprise to find out that she’s married. Legally, anyway.