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“Listen,” I said, “I have to go.”
“Okay, honey. Call us soon.”
“Bye,” I said.
They hung up the phone.
I tossed mine aside, lying on my back and staring up at the ceiling. The bed was enormous and richly furnished, but even the comfortable surroundings weren’t enough to blunt my anger and pain.
I hated letting my parents down. Dad would act like it wasn’t a huge deal, but I knew he was inwardly hurt. Mom didn’t do a great job at hiding that, either.
But could I blame them? One second it was normal and the next I was married to some rich and famous man they’d never met or even heard me mention.
Frankly, if I were them, I’d think I had gone insane.
But now they knew. The hard part was over. I’d broken the news and now I didn’t have to worry about it anymore. They’d get used to the idea soon enough, and then I’d get the money and explain everything to them. Maybe they’d be mad, but getting that million dollars would be worth it.
It might even save my father’s life. Who knew what was going to happen, but the money would go a long way toward helping them keep their life together.
Just a few months and it would be over. They could deal with thinking their daughter had gone nuts for a little bit.
I’d have to make it up to them in the end.
Frowning, I rolled over and tried not to let the nagging pit in my stomach overwhelm me.
12
Nash
“I don’t know what you’re up to, Nash, but you better cut it the fuck out,” Livy hissed.
I smiled sweetly at her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Liv darling.”
I savored the pissed-off look on her face as I leaned up against the door to our rooms.
My new wife was currently hiding away in the bedroom, hogging it for herself. I wondered if I was in for a few months of sleeping on random hotel couches, which was going to be pretty miserable. I was going to have to work on that seduction thing, and quick, if at least to save myself some permanent damage to my back.
Livy looked pissed. She had knocked on my door and practically torn me out into the hallway to wag her finger in my face like I was some spoiled kindergartener or some shit. Fortunately, Livy didn’t intimidate me at all.
“I know you’re lying about something. I just don’t know what.”
“Nobody is lying, Liv. You’re a little paranoid.”
“Who is she, anyway?”
“Met her a while ago.”
She stared at me for a second and then looked down at a piece of paper in her notebook. “Selena Wood, twenty-one. Senior at the University of Pennsylvania, good grades, no trouble to speak of. Working class, normal parents.” She looked back up at me. “This girl is a nobody.”
“She’s my wife,” I said simply.
“Still a nobody. Did you meet her for the first time a few days ago at the signing?”
“Enough,” I said, starting to get annoyed. Livy could always see through my bullshit, and it annoyed the hell out of me. “Selena is here and she isn’t going anywhere. Got it?”
“Listen, Nash, I don’t give a shit what you do.” I made a face at her. “Really, I don’t. What I care about is doing my job, and if this girl is going to make that harder, then we’ll have a problem.”
“My wife is a problem for you?” I asked, getting annoyed again.
“Not yet. Keep it that way.”
I watched as she turned and stormed away.
“Shit,” I muttered to myself, walking back into the room.
Livy was onto us. That wasn’t surprising, since Livy was always on me like white on toast. She was my damn professional babysitter, and she was good at it. Since she was my publicist, she wouldn’t do anything stupid like contradicting me in front of a journalist or saying something stupid around the paparazzi.
But her word held weight with the publisher. If I wanted my mission to be a success, I needed to convince my publisher that this wife thing was for real.
And, hopefully, they’d decide to let me go free of this fucking hell.
I sat back down on the couch, lounging out. I took off my shirt and tossed it aside, closing my eyes to take a little nap.
“Do you ever wear a shirt?”
I opened one eye. “Sometimes,” I said.
“Well clothe yourself, please.”
“No. I’m in my bedroom.”
Selena stared at me for a second and then sighed. “Fine. You can sleep on the bed tonight if you want.”
“Nah,” I said. “That’s fine. You can have the bed.”
“Really. You don’t have to sleep on couches for the next few months. We can alternate.”
“Really,” I said, “you can have the bed.”
“Fine.” She sat down in a chair. “I’m starving. Where do we eat?”
“Call room service. It’s on the publisher.”
