Page 42 of Bound To Be Mine

“He’s not going to like that,” Sebastian warned.

“He’ll deal with it.” I was already composing a text to Jasmine, telling her to book me another few nights at the hotel.

They got to their feet. Dash shook my hand and slapped my back hard enough to stir up any leftover whiskey still in my bloodstream.

“Congratulations,” Sebastian said. “And Bernadette is still mad at you. I’ll tell her it’s not real and you didn’t really steal her thunder.”

“Thanks.”

After my brothers left, I ordered room service—more coffee, more food, more water—and sat down at the desk with my laptop. If I was going to do this, I was going to do it right. I was not going to get myself into a situation that had me spending a few million to get out of a marriage I never wanted.

I spent the next several hours drafting a contract. Terms of the arrangement. We’d stay married for four months, then file for divorce. I assumed that was long enough. I hoped it was. I didn’t want the damn situation to go on any longer than necessary.

Living arrangements—we’d maintain separate residences but would need to be seen together regularly. I added in language about appearances to keep up the ruse. And most importantly, an ironclad NDA. What happened between us stayed between us.

By the time I finished, it was dark outside. My headache had finally subsided to a dull throb. I read through the contract one more time, making small adjustments. It was solid. Professional. It covered everything we’d need to make this work.

I pulled out my phone and opened a new text to Mandy. Cleo had given me my wife’s phone number earlier.

Me: Dinner tomorrow night. 7pm. We need to discuss the terms of our arrangement. I’ll send you the restaurant details in the morning.

I hit send before I could second-guess myself. We needed to work out these details as soon as possible.

Her response came almost immediately.

Mandy: So bossy. But fine. This better be a good restaurant. Your wife has expensive taste.

I stared at the text. Even through the screen, I could hear the teasing tone in her voice. She was enjoying this. Enjoying having the upper hand.

I typed back: I’m aware. I’ve seen your hotel room candles.

Three dots appeared, then disappeared, then appeared again.

Those candles are an investment in my mental health. See you tomorrow, husband.

I set my phone down and leaned back in my chair, staring at the contract on my laptop screen.

What the hell had I gotten myself into?

More importantly, how was I going to survive being married to a woman who made me feel like I was constantly one step behind and challenged me at every turn?

Four months, I reminded myself. I just had to make it four months.

Then I could go back to my normal, orderly life where I was in control and nothing ever caught me off guard.

14

MANDY

Iwoke up the next morning feeling physically normal. My body was fine, but my brain was a chaotic mess of anxiety and what-ifs.

I’d spent most of the previous night staring at my phone, drafting and deleting potential social media posts. Every version sounded either too defensive, too casual, or too desperate. I needed to address the elephant in the room—or rather, the accidental husband in my life—but I couldn’t say anything until Briggs and I were on the same page.

Continuing our marriage was a drastic idea, but it seemed like the only way to make the best of this terrible situation. I hoped dinner tonight would sort everything out. Maybe we’d find a way through this that didn’t end with my career in shambles.

My phone buzzed with a text from Cleo.

Cleo: We’re coming to you. Landing in an hour. Don’t argue.