Married By Mistake (Billionaires of Europe Book 7)

by Holly Rayner

  There’s a spark between us. I’m not sure what it is, exactly. It’s too much to say that I love her, but something about her kept me awake last night. Something kept me checking in with her, listening at her door, trying to catch her awake and moving around so I could call her out of the guest room and…and what? What was it I wanted her for in the middle of the night?

  I was nervous. I wanted someone to talk to on the eve of the annulment proceedings, someone I knew would understand what I was going through. I just wanted to get out of my own head.

  That makes sense. But it’s unlike me. I don’t deal with anxiety by seeking out someone to talk to, and certainly not someone I hardly know. And yet, I can say with assurance that spending time last night talking to Dani instead of lying awake in my room would have been soothing, calming.

  The car stops outside the Clark County Marriage License Bureau and Dani and I get out in silence, give our names and request at the reception desk, and sit down to wait. We exchange looks, and I can see the distress on her face. I pick up a few magazines and pass one to her. She sits with it open on her lap, flipping pages—obviously not reading—and for a moment, my heart twists and I wish there was something I could do to make all this easier on her.

  We sit there for almost an hour, side by side, waiting, uncomfortable and on edge, before we are called by the receptionist and led into the office of one of the clerks. Apparently, I was right, and this procedure is so routine that we can simply rotate through the office and sign the necessary documents. We don’t even need a lawyer. That’s reassuring.

  I squeeze Dani’s hand as we take our seats in front of an old wooden desk with a nameplate reading Spade.

  Mr. Spade is an extremely young man, probably early twenties, with thick-rimmed glasses and a poorly-tied necktie. He greets me and Dani, looks through the stack of papers on his desk, and pulls one out.

  “You’re here to file for a marital annulment?” he asks.

  “That’s correct,” I say.

  “First marriage for each of you?”

  “Second for me,” I say.

  “Does that matter?” Dani asks anxiously.

  “It shouldn’t,” Mr. Spade says. “Mr. Oliveira, right?”

  “That’s right.”

  “I just need documentation on that previous marriage, but I can have it faxed over. Let me make a call to my boss.”

  He disappears from the room. Dani turns in her chair, her face tight with nerves. “Are they going to deny us the annulment?”

  “No, no,” I say. “If they thought I had a serial habit of getting drunk and impulsively married, we might have a problem, but I was formally married in a ceremony before and the marriage lasted years. This will be my first annulment. It’s not going to affect things.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m positive,” I say. “Don’t worry. We’re fine.”

  Mr. Spade comes back into the room. He’s frowning, and before I can ask any questions, he picks up his phone and presses a button, as if accepting a call that was placed on hold.

  “Spade, here.” A long pause. Then, he looks at me. “Mr. Oliveira, what is your occupation?”

  “I’m the owner of Oliveira Dealerships, a group of luxury car distributors,” I say, confused. Is he trying to establish financial solvency? I’m expecting him to ask Dani the same question, but he doesn’t. Maybe because I’m paying for the annulment? Although, I don’t think we’ve told anyone that, yet.

  Spade hangs up the phone. “Mr. Oliveira, I’m afraid your annulment won’t be possible today.”

  “What?” Dani cries.

  “It’s out of my control. I was just on the phone with my superior, and that’s his ruling. If you want to appeal it, you and your wife will need to return tomorrow. And I would consider securing legal representation.”

  “Legal representation? Why do we need legal representation?” I say harshly. I’m sure I’m confirming some of the worst things Dani thinks about car dealers right now by steamrolling this interaction, but really, this is ridiculous. “I made a call this morning, and I was explicitly told that barring any exceptional circumstances, all I needed to do was to come down to this office with Ms. Bell and file the necessary paperwork.”

  “Mr. Oliveira, please understand—”

  “Well, I’m here. And Ms. Bell is here. She’s actually delayed returning to her home state to be here, and she has a job to get back to. We haven’t got time to come in here day after day while you jerk us around. We’ve completed the appropriate paperwork and I demand you do your part and grant us our annulment.”

  “Mr. Oliveira.” Spade’s tone is placating. “It’s out of my hands. The decision comes from my superior. I don’t have the power to overrule it.”

  “Then I want to speak to him or her, please.”

  “Mr. Oliveira.”

  “I’ll wait.” I settle myself back in my chair. “I’m not leaving this office until I get an explanation.”

  Spade sighs, then picks up his phone and dials. After a moment, he speaks. “Mr. Carson, I have Luciano Oliveira in my office—yes, I know I told him—I told him that, too. He wants to speak with you.” He glances at me, then lowers his voice. “I don’t think that’s going to work, sir. He’s insisting. He says he won’t leave until…all right.”

  Spade passes the receiver to me, and I take it.

  “This is Luciano Oliveira. To whom am I speaking?”

  “Mr. Oliveira, this is William Carson at the Nevada Attorney General’s office.” The voice on the other end of the phone is smooth, honeyed. I immediately dislike him. There’s a smugness in his tone, as if he’s already judged me for calling about an annulment. “What can I do for you today?”

  “I’m being told that I can’t get a marriage annulled,” I say.

  “Well, do you have all your paperwork?” Carson asks. “Without the proper paperwork in place, I’m afraid our clerks are unable to do anything. Maybe you should double-check that everything is correct and come back when you’re a little more prepared.”

  “My paperwork is fine,” I say. “I have it right here. And if there were any problems with it, I would certainly expect the clerk to point that out to me, not just tell me there was nothing he could do and send me on my way. I want to know what the problem is, and I want to know now. This is inconveniencing to me, to the woman who’s involved, and all of our employees.”

  When Carson speaks again, the smirk in his tone is audible.

  “Actions have consequences,” he says. “I’m afraid you can’t simply wipe your record clean and expect there to be no repercussions.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask.

  “The fact that you’re Luciano Oliveira may mean a lot in the automotive industry,” Carson says, “but I’m afraid in my clerk’s office, it means very little. After all”—he hesitates, and I picture a huge smile spreading across his face—“a name will only take you so far.”

  I’m suddenly slightly nauseous. I’ve used that exact phrase before.

  “You said you were with the Attorney General’s office?”

  “That’s right, Mr. Oliveira,” Carson says. “You and your wife have a nice day now.” I hear a click as he disconnects.

  Slowly, I pass the phone back over to Spade.

  Dani is perched on the edge of her seat, a fearful look in her eyes.

  “What was that, Luciano? Are we getting the annulment? What’s happening?”

  I can’t answer her. I can’t even begin to find words. I honestly can’t believe this is happening, but Carson’s choice of words made it perfectly clear—this is pure revenge.

  Two years ago, I was approached by Attorney General Hobbs shortly after his election. Hobbs explained that his son was looking for a job and that he was interested in sales. I suspected right from the beginning that it wasn’t going to be a good fit—a young man who sends his father in to pitch him for a job isn’t likely to be much of a salesman, after all—but I agreed to
meet with the boy.

  Unfortunately, my prediction turned out to be correct. Hobbs’ son was late to the interview, entitled from the word go, and borderline rude to me and to my staff. I declined to offer him the job. Later, Hobbs called to protest his son not being hired, and I told him exactly what Carson’s just told me. “A name will only take you so far.”

  This is deliberate. As Attorney General, Hobbs must be required to sign one of the papers for my annulment. Or maybe, he’s simply put the word out to watch for me, to look for a way to screw me over. Whatever the details, the motivation is the same. Hobbs is behind this. It’s his way of getting back at me for not hiring his son.

  And I guess it just doesn’t matter to him that he’s punishing Dani too, even though she never did anything to him.

  Disgusted, I get to my feet and grab the papers from Spade’s desk. I storm out of the office, with a confused and distressed Dani running to catch up.

  Chapter 17

  Dani

  “You’re kidding,” I say.

  “I wish I was.” Luciano shakes his head, looking despondent.

  The two of us are sitting on the edge of the very same fountain he splashed around in just yesterday looking for the lost handcuff key. After storming out of the clerk’s office without having gotten our annulment, Luciano was clearly too angry to get back into the town car or even to talk about what had happened. Everything in his body language communicated that I should just let him walk it off. So I did, trailing behind him, holding onto all my questions despite my burning curiosity. Finally, after almost twenty minutes of walking, Luciano stopped at this fountain and explained the situation to me.

  I can’t believe it. I’ve never seen him look dejected like this, not even when we couldn’t find the handcuff key. He’s always been masterful, in control of every situation and able to quickly formulate a plan for what we need to do next. Even after only having known him for a few days, it’s strange to see him at a loss like this. It’s alarming. The situation must be really dire if it’s defeated Luciano so thoroughly.

  And it’s so petty. He’s talking about the Attorney General of the state of Nevada taking revenge on us as if we were in high school. And for what—not appointing his son to a cushy job he hadn’t earned?

  I can tell, without even having met him, that the Attorney General’s son would have been a perfect representative of the worst kind of car salesman, the kind I presumed Luciano was when I first met him. He probably thinks he’s better than everyone, more important than everyone, and entitled to whatever he wants. After all, he expected to get a job based on who his father was—and now, his father wants to punish Luciano for not caving to nepotism!

  I should be upset—we haven’t been able to get our annulment, and I have no idea what we’re going to do about that now—but strangely, I feel like laughing. The whole situation is just so ridiculous. It’s been ridiculous since yesterday morning, when we woke up in those handcuffs. And, at this point, I’ve been living in crazy-world so long that I’m taking the hits in stride. I’ll probably end up dealing blackjack or dancing on a bar before this adventure is over. Why not? Nothing would surprise me at this point.

  Luciano sighs. “I’m really sorry about this, Dani. You’re caught up in this mess that has nothing to do with you, and I feel awful about it. I’ll figure out a way we can get this taken care of; I promise. I don’t want you to worry.”

  “It’s all right,” I tell him. “I know this isn’t your fault. You did what you had to do when that boy came looking for a job. Any rational person would have done the same thing. It’s completely unfair that they’re trying to get back at you like this now. You don’t deserve it. I’m really sorry.”

  “What’s awful is that they’re not giving any thought to how it’s affecting you,” Luciano says. “You never did anything to the Attorney General.”

  “I know, it’s annoying,” I say, trying to keep my voice soothing. I can see that Luciano is really worked up about what’s happening, and I don’t blame him—if we’d been unable to get an annulment because of something in my past, I’d be feeling humiliated and guilty and outraged all at once. And the fact that it’s such a stupid thing, such a petty grievance, only makes it worse. I’d be willing to bet Luciano hasn’t thought about that incident since it happened. He had no idea it would come back to bite him today. What a nasty surprise.

  But, as upset as he is, I’m surprised to find that my own feelings on the matter are somewhat different. Yes, I feel badly for Luciano. This is embarrassing for him. And it is inconvenient that we’re being forced to jump through hoops to get our annulment—not to mention that the clerk said we would need legal representation. That does make me worry about the costs associated with getting a lawyer and the fact that we could potentially be denied the right to get an annulment altogether and be forced to file for divorce. That would really be a hassle.

  But, in spite of all that, there’s a bright spot to all this: I’ll get to spend more time with Luciano.

  I have to admit, I was a little sad at the prospect of the annulment. I figured we’d sign the papers this morning, shake hands, and go our separate ways. We’ll see each other again at the car show, but after that, who knows? Maybe we’d never even speak again. But now, we have this marriage situation to work out, and as annoying as that’s going to be, it’s something we have to do together. Which means we have to spend more time together.

  I can’t find it in me to complain about that.

  “Listen,” I say to him. “We’ll figure it out.” It’s my turn to be strong in the face of the unending drama that seems to be swirling around us. Luciano kept it together during the whole handcuff crisis. Now, I’ll keep it together so he can go to pieces a little about this.

  I hesitate, wondering if this is okay, then reach out and rest my hand on his shoulder.

  He doesn’t pull away. He sighs and looks up at me.

  “Thanks, Dani,” he says. “You’re right. I’ll see about getting us a lawyer.”

  “You have to let me help pay for that,” I say. “I mean it. No arguments.”

  He nods. “Sure. We’ll discuss what’s fair.”

  I look around, taking in the Monday daytime view of the Las Vegas Strip. It’s still a raging party, just as it has been throughout my time here. Across the street, I can see a cluster of boozed-up women clutching souvenir cups and laughing. I look closer and see that one of them is wearing a white sash and a tiara. The sash reads “bride-to-be.” It’s another bachelorette party.

  It strikes me, suddenly, how unremarkable everything that’s happened here is. Sure, to me, it’s been extraordinary. It’s been one of the weirdest and wildest weekends of my life. But dozens of women in this city are probably having the very same weekend I had right now—meeting a handsome man, having too much to drink, and waking up to learn that they’re married.

  What makes my experience unique isn’t what happened. It’s Luciano himself. His kindness. His supportiveness. The fact that I don’t just want to run away and forget all about him. I want to see him again. Maybe I even want him to become a regular person in my life. Is it possible we could be friends?

  He looks over at me. “Do you need to go?”

  I look at my watch. “I should,” I say, unable to keep the disappointment out of my voice. “I’m already a day late. I really want to get the shop back open tomorrow so I don’t lose any more profits than I already have.”

  Luciano nods. “That makes sense. I’m sorry you had to delay your return. I hope your customers weren’t too inconvenienced.”

  “It’s just one day,” I say, even though Mondays are usually my busiest day. Tomorrow’s bound to be even busier. “Will going back to work be rough for you?”

  “It won’t be a problem,” he says. “I trust my managers to run the dealerships in my absence. That’s not unusual. I usually spend the day on location at one of the dealerships while the others run without me, or I work from my home office and let m
y managers call me with questions or concerns. I doubt I was missed.”

  I stand up beside the fountain. Luciano joins me.

  “I can have the cab take you back to your hotel, if that’s where your car is parked,” he says.

  “Thanks, yeah. I’ll need to stop at your apartment to grab my bags.”

  “That’s not a problem. I’ll call the doorman and tell him to let you in.”

  “What about you?” It’s hitting me, now, that we’re about to go our separate ways. “Where will you go?”

  “Honestly?” Luciano chuckles. “Probably to Nick’s. I need a drink, and I need to talk all this out with someone. I bet you could use the same.”

  “I’ll be calling up one of my girlfriends as soon as I get home,” I admit, laughing. “I’m sure they’ve come up with all kinds of wild gossip about what happened to me already, but this is one of those rare occasions where the true story probably tops all the rumors.”

  “I’ll say,” Luciano agrees.

  We both hesitate. Then, Luciano reaches out and pulls me into a hug.

  I’m surprised but pleased, and I hug him back, lingering for a moment before pulling away, enjoying the feeling of his arms around me. It seems strange to be going back to Riverside, to be leaving him behind. I’ve already grown used to having him around.

  “I’ll find a way to get us that annulment,” Luciano says. “This is all my fault. I’ll take care of it.”

  “It’s not your fault,” I counter. “It’s the Attorney General’s.”

  “It’s because of me. I’ll figure it out, okay? I’m not going to let this be a problem for you. Once I’ve solved it, I’ll make sure you have to do the absolute minimum amount of work.”

  “Luciano, please don’t upset yourself.” I rest a hand on his arm. “We’ll get it taken care of when we can. It’s not like it’s hurting me to be married to you. I don’t have a boyfriend or anything. I don’t have to explain this to anyone when I get home.”