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The wings on his chest expand as he takes in a deep breath. “Okay, yeah, you’re right. That’s not great.”
His hand snags back through his hair and I can’t help but notice his naked bicep flexing obscenely right in front of my face. It’s not my fault. I wouldn’t be expected to avoid looking at a comet crashing in front of me and this bicep is roughly the same size.I’m married to this bicep.
I need to do something. I need to move. Organize. Sort my life as quickly and efficiently as possible so I can breathe again. A good A-to-Z process always does the trick, and I’ll work through it step-by-step until everything is back to normal.
(A)Pack my clothes.
I breeze by Derek and fly into the room to pick up my few odds and ends scattered haphazardly all around the room like the wild and fun gal I am (read: neatly folded in various piles and placed in drawers).
Derek leans against the bathroom doorframe. “Nora…what are you doing?”
“Running for president. I know it seems like an odd time, but someone’s got to do it.” The sarcastic words whip out like iciclesdropping overhead, aimed to kill. But I don’t have patience right now to calmly explain to him that I’m packing my bags so I can (B)catch the first flight out of here and back home, where I can(C)contact a lawyer and figure out how to get this marriage annulled.And if I hurry and get ahead of this, maybe I can (D)implement damage control before word leaks.
What are the rules on annulment anyway? Surely if you’ve only been married ten hours and haven’t consummated it, then it’s easy peasy, right?
Derek’s hand catches lightly against my arm when I try to pass him. Goosebumps flare down my back. “Nora. I need you to take a breath for a second.”
Years of finely tuned smiles and punchy jokes crack under the pressure. I lance him with a look, feeling my heart punch against my chest. My head hurts, the light in here is too bright, and I’m so hungover my skin aches. There’s no room to filter words in circumstances like this.
“Unlike you, Derek, I don’t have the luxury of taking a breath. For you, this will all be an easy, charming story that everyone laughs at over drinks. In fact, I’ve been trained to handle situations like this for athletes since day one—it’s literally part of my job to help sweep your indiscretions under the rug.” My head pulses with each fervent word. “But I will be on the other side of it carefully picking up the pieces and trying not to cut my hands in the process.” My voice cracks on the last word, and I hate showing any signs of weakness, so I pull my arm away from Derek and pace to the bed.
“I’m sorry,” he says quietly.
My knees buckle against the mattress and I hunch over, hugging my stomach as a fresh wave of nausea hits me—but not because of the hangover. “You don’t understand what it’s like, Derek. I’ve—I’veworked so hard to prove myself over the past two years. Including going by a name that I hate because you get further in this industry when other men think I’m one of the guys over email.” I shut my eyes, hearing how ludicrous that sounds and sad that it’s true. “And still, every single one of the men in my office is rooting for me to fail. Waiting for it. They tolerate Nicole because she’s slightly terrifying, but they hate me. They hate that I’ve infiltrated their boys’ club with my silly colorful outfits and my bubblegum personality, and they’ve decided I don’t belong. At all times they think I’m an incompetent idiot—and this, Derek, this will prove it to them. Not to mention the fact that I might be outrightfiredwhen my bosses find out I’ve drunkenly married my client.”
Derek no longer leans against the doorframe. With that trademark thunderous scowl, he strides to me and drops down onto his knees. The weight of his hands dimples the mattress on either side of my hips, bracketing me—cornering me so I’ll look at him.
“I do know what it’s like to operate differently than those around you and be seen as weak because of it.” His voice fades into something raw and tender. “And how bad it feels to work your ass off for something and still come up short in other people’s eyesbecauseof those differences.”
“How do you know?” I ask honestly. “You’ve always been at the top of your career. Everyone respects you.”
A debate runs behind his eyes. “It’s a story for another day. Right now, I want you to hear that there is nothing incompetent about you. And I swear to you, I will do everything I can to keep your name out of this. I have incredible lawyers who can be discreet. We can annul this marriage and I won’t tell a soul. I swear it, Nora.”
Something fuzzy crawls into my heart. All I can do is stare into his blue eyes—telling myself not to wrap my arms around his neck and beg him to hold me. The heat of his body curls around me and itwould be so easy to just lean into it, letting his arms smooth away the sharp fear prickling my chest.
I don’t get the chance.
My phone vibrates loudly on the bedside table. I sniff and swat away the tears that have leaked down my cheeks. Derek drops his arms so I can get my phone.It’s Nicole.And if she’s calling out of the blue like this, it means she knows somehow.
“Hello?” I answer, trying not to sound like I just barfed up eighteen pounds of alcohol in the rare chance that she actually just wants to know where I filed one of her contracts.
“It’s all over the Internet, Mac.”
“No.”The word comes out as a puff of useless air.
“Yes. Not sure if you know this yet, but you guys posted a photo on Derek’s Instagram of you two last night.”
“Naked?”
“What? No.”
“Oh, right. I’m not even naked now.”
Nicole doesn’t laugh, and Derek is watching me with pinched brows before he stands, gaze searching the room. “You were fully clothed, but your tongue was down his throat and you two were holding up your ring fingers like middle fingers. A very screw-you-we’re-in-love photo. Epic…but…”
“Trashy.”
“Your word, not mine,” she says, sounding more empathetic than I’ve ever heard her.
