Page 44 of Bound To Be Mine

“It’s not supposed to be romantic. It’s supposed to be professional.” I took another sip of coffee.

“Right, because nothing says professional like a surprise Vegas wedding,” Cleo said, but she was grinning.

I threw a piece of croissant at her. “You’re not helping.”

“I’m absolutely helping. I’m making you laugh instead of spiral.” She caught the piece of pastry and popped it in her mouth. “That’s what family does.”

I’d been so focused on the disaster of the marriage that I hadn’t really thought about what it meant beyond the legal implications. But Cleo and Callum were right—I was part of their family now, at least on paper.

“Thank you,” I said quietly. “For coming.”

“So, how did you end up married?” Cleo asked. “Like how does that even come up in conversation?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I don’t know if it was his idea or mine. That’s the crazy part. I don’t know who suggested it. Like was it a dare? Did I ask him to marry me or did he ask me to marry him? Where did we get rings?”

Callum laughed. “It kind of sounds like old-school Briggs.”

“What does that mean?”

“Briggs used to be fun,” Callum said, settling back on the couch. “Like, genuinely fun. He was the one who’d organize road trips at two in the morning. He’d be the first one on the dance floor at family functions.”

I raised an eyebrow. “We’re talking about the same Briggs? Tall, perpetually scowling, looks like he irons his pajamas?”

Cleo laughed. “That’s the one. But Callum’s right. He wasn’t always like that. Something changed after law school. He got more serious. More rigid.”

“What happened?” I asked, genuinely curious now.

Callum shrugged. “Life, I guess. Responsibilities. The weight of being a Blackwell. Then when their dad died, it rocked them all, but Briggs and Adrian especially. Adrian knew his place. He had to step up and Briggs knew he had to support him. I think he feels like he’s protecting them via the legal way. When Buck died, it shocked all of us. I think Briggs felt like he should have known.”

“How could he have possibly known?” I asked.

“He couldn’t. Buck had a massive heart attack. It just happened. All of the guys handled it in their own way. Briggs was never quite like Sebastian or Dash, but he had his moments.”

I nodded. “So he buried the fun guy under a mountain of three-piece suits and contracts that protected his family and the legacy his father left.”

“Pretty much.” Cleo leaned forward. “But maybe you’ll bring that side of him back out. You already got him drunk enough to marry you. That’s progress.”

“I’m not sure that could ever qualify as progress. I think the word you’re looking for is disaster.”

“Potato, potahto,” Callum said with a grin. “Point is, there’s a real person under all that lawyer armor. You just have to find him.”

I thought about that as they eventually left, promising to check in tomorrow. The idea that Briggs used to be different, used to be fun, was difficult to picture. But then again, I’d seen glimpses of something else in those photos from our wedding night. A man who was laughing, who looked genuinely happy. And clearly there had been something that made me want to marry his grumpy ass.

Later that evening, I stood in front of my closet trying to decide what one wore to negotiate the terms of a fake marriage. I settled on one of the options I brought for the wedding. A black dress. It did feel like a black dress occasion.

The restaurant Briggs had chosen was exactly what I expected: upscale with minimal lighting to provide just a little extra privacy. It was the kind of place where the menu didn’t have prices and the wine list was thicker than most novels. I gave my name to the hostess, who smiled and led me to a private table in the back.

And there he was.

Briggs stood as I approached, and my heart did a stupid little flutter that I immediately tried to squash. He was back in a suit that fit him like a glove. His hair was styled, his jaw clean-shaven. He looked every inch the high-powered attorney I’d met in that conference room.

The disappointment was real. For a moment, I’d let myself hope that maybe Callum was right. Maybe I’d see some hint of the fun guy buried under all that professionalism.

But no. This was Briggs in his natural habitat, armored up and ready for business. He was negotiating our marriage.

“Mandy,” he said, gesturing to the chair across from him. “You look nice.”

“Thanks.” I sat down, smoothing my dress. “You look very lawyer-y.”