He’d booked the room for two weeks.He had little doubt that would be enough time for him to explore the area, look at some potential properties or research other areas that might work better.And that was before he approached his maybe family.Or not.
Still, why six suits?
Impatient with himself, he returned to the main room to wait for Ayana so they could head out to explore.He’d noticed the bridal shop—Married in Marietta—on their drive into town and wondered if she’d want a wedding dress.
His stomach soured with anxiety.He was getting married.To a stranger.And it was his idea.Or Cam’s by dying.He imagined Cam, if still alive, would have laughed himself sick at the situation.Or maybe it was Cam’s spirit, continuing to push, push, push from another plane of existence, always wanting the last word.
He glanced at his watch.Just half three.The bridal store would still be open.Should he make an appointment?Or was that overstepping?And maybe Ayana would want to get married in something she clickety-clicked herself while listening to music or a podcast.Would she be disappointed not to have a white dress or would she think it sacrilegious as it wasn’t a real marriage?
Sydney had assured him that many men in his financial position were business-oriented about their marriages so why was he knotting himself up?He didn’t care if Ayana married him in jeans in front of the court clerk.He just wanted it done so he didn’t have to keep thinking about it.But he was savvy enough to know he couldn’t say that.
He could practically hear Cam snicker.
*
White.
What was she thinking?
Still.It was a bold choice—a stretchy, white lace dress that teased as much as it hid.And bright white.Clingy, falling asymmetrically to skim along her tan ankle cowboy boots.She belted her dress with a matching tan wrap leather belt and spiked her hair a little with product.
Humming the wedding march ironically, she pulled out her saffron-colored velvet coat, fleece-lined and trimmed with striking chocolate brown faux fur.
Wow.Not small-town anything.
But she liked to make a visual splash.When she’d been part of the Family she’d had to wear beige—a really ugly pale beige that made her look like a boiled egg, and even at nine she’d hated that.
So beige never again and no dressing for anyone but herself.Her look, her style gave her courage, especially now that her life felt like it was playing out on a theater in the round.Definitely surreal.And her impulsefor the plotthat had been backed up by the solid facts of a job that promised adventure, an infusion of serious cash, a foothold in the real estate market—finally—a chance to work up a potential business plan with advice from a businessman though her ideas that were likely pathetically small compared to what he normally navigated.
And bonus.Another name change, making her harder to find.
Her heart skipped in alarm as she thought of all the changes she stood on the brink of, but she was used to facing down fear.
“I wish you were here, Alissa.You would have loved this.”
Even though she knew that it would have been harder to run and hide and take care of her sister.She would have succeeded.
She touched the gold locket around her neck that held a lock of her sister’s hair and sucked in a deep breath.If she had her way, they’d marry this afternoon.Get it over with.Montana didn’t have a waiting period.She’d checked.And she wanted to get it done before she lost her courage.This marriage at least was legal.And her choice.
“Stop stalling,” she told her reflection and turned and exited her bedroom.
“Ahhhh, wow, ahhhh… you look… ahhhh.”He spread out his arms, fingers wide, looking like she’d strutted out in a bikini and stilettos before slapping him.
Really, for a billionaire who was far more worldly and sexually experienced than she was—at least she assumed he was—his tongue-tied response to her flirting and slightly sexy, edgy clothing was… charming.
And it made her feel more on equal footing.
“Gorgeous, sexy, and ready to tie the knot,” she said striking a pose and holding her velvet coat wide so he could see her slim figure, the toned curves, the lack of a bra and how her nipples were hidden yet teased by the floral pattern inherent in the fabric of the dress’s design.
“All of that,” he said, running his large, elegant hand through his hair.“All of it and more.”
She smiled, feeling like she was starting to have a better read on him.But she didn’t want to get cocky.Or lazy.She’d grown up all but a prisoner and with no power or value except what her father or another man decided she had.She’d escaped, and she wouldn’t hand over her future to any man—even one who appeared unexpectedly shy and socially awkward.
He’d been honest with her so far.But this whole scheme of his was infused with gray and slippery elements, so she couldn’t relax her guard.
*
They’d left thechampagne chilling in the ice bucket while they filled out the marriage license application online.
