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“Whatever. That’s exactly my point. It’s why she needs to move there with him.” Aurelia’s words ring out through the suite, and we all fall silent, the only sounds are the muted fans and the game outside the thick glass wall of the suite.
“Absolutely not. I’m not doing it.” Georgia is furious, whether it’s about moving to Maine or living with me or the impact that has on her life, I’m not sure.
“There has to be an alternative to this,” Grey says with a note of desperation, except we all know there isn’t one. I throw Grey and Zax a quick glance, and neither is visibly happy, but the truth is, as much as I don’t want that, it’s what needs to happen. And we all know it.
Done with all of this, I stand and extend my hand to Georgia. “Enough. I need a moment alone with my wife.”
Chapter Fifteen
“Lenox,” Zax growls urgently, clearly not liking the fact that I just called Georgia my wife. Judging by her expression, she doesn’t either. It was meant to drive home a point, not stake a claim. This is what they wanted me to do. All three of them. So here we are.
I look at him and then Grey. “Give me a different way.”
Grey’s mouth twists, and he turns to Zax, whose displeasure is all over his face. It doesn’t matter, though. He can’t, and he knows it.
I drag a fuming Georgia through the suite and shove her into the bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind us. “Oh, really?” she glares, folding her arms defiantly and leaning against the sink. “This is going to be a door-locking situation?”
“Depends on how reasonable you are,” I retort. “We’re going to move you into my house in Maine.”
“What?!” she shrieks, her hands flying about. “You’re on their side with this? Come on, Lenox. No. We can’t live together, and you freaking know it.” She pokes the center of my chest.
“Keep your voice down. We don’t need everyone to hear us fight. Your ex and his father plan to contest the marriage. That much is clear. They’re going to say all sorts of things, like how you’re not mentally stable after your father’s loss and that I’m taking advantage of you.”
Her eyes narrow.
“You’ll be safe there,” I continue in a low voice. “No one can touch you, not even the press—at least at my house—and it’ll give me time to figure everything else out.”
“I can’t work in Maine,” she grits out between clenched teeth.
“You can get your license in Maine, Georgia. That’s a bullshit excuse, and you know it.”
“Zax and Grey don’t think I need to live with you.”
I give her an unamused look.
Her hands hit the top of her head. “Lenox, I don’t want to live with you!”
I chuckle, but there is no humor in it. I press her back into the sink, my hands going on either side of her body, caging her in as my anger builds. “You think I want that? You think bringing you into my house is a good time for me?”
She shakes her head, aggravation crawling through her features. She shoves me back, but I don’t go far. I don’t want outside ears to hear us. “Then why be so adamant about it?”
“I fucking married you, Georgia. Our agreement is for a year. That means for the next year, you’re mine to take care of whether I like it or not.”
“You can’t want that.”
“I just told you I don’t.”
“Then why are you doing this?” Her voice climbs, and I give her a warning look. Only Zax and Grey know how things are between us, and I’d like to keep it that way. She tempers herself. “Beyond saying I’m your responsibility because you fake married me, because that’s not adding up all the way.”
“Except it does. You’re my wife. That’s how this goes.” I hold up my left hand, showing her my band, getting right up in her face. “It’s like Callan said. Why bother marrying me if you’re just going to give them an in to disprove it? You told me yourself that the appearance of this being real is paramount. It was one of your goddamn rules for us. Fight me all you want, but your ass is coming home with me to Maine tomorrow.”
She grips my shirt, giving me a rough yank until we’re practically nose-to-nose. “Fuck you, Lenox. Husband or not, you don’t get to tell me where I’m going or what I’m doing. In fact, I’d never let my real husband get away with that shit.”
“Good for you and your imaginary real husband. If you wanted that, you should have married Ezra. But here, now, this is it. Stop being a stubborn pain in the ass and get over it.”
Panting rushes of air cleave from both of us, mixing in the minuscule space between us. She wants to fight this, and I get it because it’s a bad situation in the making, but what other choice do we genuinely have?
The problem is, we can’t seem to get our bearings with each other. We’re boiling hot and ice cold and occasionally flirt between both lines. And with that, I don’t know how to navigate her, and I think it’s the same for her with me.
