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“No,” he whispers, grinning devilishly. “There’s a lawyer I’m friendly with, a man named Gareth Kane. He nearly came to work for my family once, and we kept in touch. I’m going to call him and have him prepare a document. We’re getting on my private plane, flying to Vegas, and getting married. Then we’ll sign the prenup agreement, laying out the rules we’ll both follow. Do you understand?”
I’m panicking. My heart’s racing. His hand is firm on my arm, holding hard enough that I couldn’t get away. I want to run, want to do anything but agree to this, but I’ve already gone too far.
“This is too fast,” I whisper. Panic taking over.
He doesn’t seem to care. Still holding my arm, he pulls out his phone and makes a call. “Bring the car and get the jet prepped. We’re heading to Vegas as soon as it’s ready to take off.” He hangs up, eyes locked on mine. “You will be my wife, Keely, and I’m not going to wait for the morning.”
“Can’t we, I don’t know, just not make it official yet?” I’m desperate for any excuse to delay my execution—sorry, my wedding—but I can’t come up with anything that might work.
“Clock’s ticking.” He moves toward the door, dragging me along. “You’ll enjoy this, I promise. The plane’s very comfortable. We’ll stay in a nice room. I’ll treat you to the honeymoon you deserve.”
“I don’t want a honeymoon,” I say, barely managing to keep my breathing under control. My chest feels like it might burst. “I don’t want to get on a plane with you.”
“Too bad, my little wife.” He hurries down the stoop. I stumble, but he catches me, making sure I’m okay. His hands are strong, his fingers callused from work. I look up into his face, trying to find some hint that he’s joking, searching for a way out.
I find nothing but ice and stone.
A car pulls up, a black SUV. Nolan gets in the back, pulling me with him. He leans over me to shut the door.
The driver’s an older man. Salt-and-pepper hair, a scarred face. He glances in the rearview mirror. He seems vaguely familiar. “All set?” he grunts.
“Yes, Roger. Thank you.”
My jaw drops as the name clicks in my head and I recognize him. Roger, the foreman of the contractors we hired to build our donut shop, winks at me before putting the car in drive.
I gape at him, head spinning. I look from Roger to Nolan, though Nolan doesn’t seem to notice my distress. “That’s—he was—”
“He’s one of my guys,” Nolan says, glancing over. “I couldn’t let just anyone work in my building.”
“This is crazy,” I whisper.
“If it helps at all, I really am a good builder,” Roger says from behind the wheel. “Some of the other guys, well, they’ve got more heart than talent, if you know what I mean, but the place would’ve looked great. I’m still eager to get it all finished.”
“Oh my god,” I whisper, my blood running cold, as Roger drives fast toward Logan International Airport.
A thousand thoughts run through my mind on the ride over. How much of this did he engineer? The work crew we hired, obviously. But what else? The rent issue, the building itself. Could he have been behind Jamila quitting on me? Could he have orchestrated everything down to the smallest detail, all to get me in his grasp? I feel like my life’s coming undone, like I’m a thread being pulled, unspooling everything.
The car parks at private departures. Nolan doesn’t give me time to object. He ushers us through security and onto the tarmac where a big, white jet’s waiting, the crew already outside. A pilot and a pretty young stewardess. “All ready?” the pilot asks, a man in his forties. Mercifully, I don’t recognize him.
“Ready when you are,” Nolan says, once again dragging me behind him onto the plane.
The door shuts and I’m deposited into a luxurious seat. Nolan sits beside me, pinning me in as he leans over and buckles my belt.
“I can do that,” I say, finally snapping back into myself. I brush him away then wipe a sheen of nervous sweat from my forehead. “Stop it, okay? Can you just slow down?”
“Take off in five,” the stewardess says, a pretty blonde girl.
Nolan doesn’t look away from me. “You got this rolling. There’s no stopping now. But don’t worry, we have four hours to discuss what our happy marriage will look like.”
I close my eyes, taking deep breaths. “How much of this did you manipulate?”
“I don’t like that word, manipulate. I prefer to think of it as charming my way in your life.”
“Jamila said Roger came highly recommended by—” I groan, glancing at him.
He laughs. “By Ash, my sister-in-law.”
“God, I should’ve known.”
