by Nikki Chase
Mom was starting to climb back up from rock bottom. Even though she was only earning minimum wage, we had enough to live on. But she never learned her lesson about men. She started dating this loser called Frank, and he’s been dragging her down ever since.
I’ve always thought Mom would be better off without men, but she needs someone so desperately she’s willing to risk everything. She seems to feel like she needs them for survival, even though from my perspective, I could see she could make it on her own.
Sure, Frank used to have more money that Mom did, and he occasionally helped with the bills.
But he soon became unemployed and dead broke, spending his days brewing in his own filth on the couch. Mom would go out to work, only to come home to nag Frank to go out and find work himself. But why would he, when he already has everything they need without working?
It seems like a miserable existence, and I don’t understand why Mom would choose to live like that.
This is why I’ve sworn off all men. I’m not going to let a man use me and take me for granted.
I enter Mr. Hunter’s office, where I’m met by Eliza, Lana, a man I don’t recognize, and the monster himself. A drop of doubt diffuses throughout my chest, but I tell myself I’m doing the right thing.
I’m here on a mission.
I’m not going to let him use me.
Instead, I’m going to use him.
I’m going to use him and discard him.
He’ll get what’s coming to him, what I’ve sworn to do to him, ever since that day.
I never thought I’d have to marry him to exact my revenge, but sometimes plans change.
Getting even closer to my enemy while gaining more of his trust could only be a good thing.
Ethan
“I thought you were going to wear white, at least,” I say when my bride walks through the door into my office.
Megan gives me a polite smile, but she doesn’t look amused.
She’s a strange one, this hot little bride of mine. I can’t figure her out. Sometimes she’s shy and sweet, and other times she’s detached and almost downright resentful. It’s not about the words that she says because she keeps things professional; it’s just a gut feeling.
But what do I know? I haven’t had much luck with women, have I? After Ashley, I’ve just never felt like trying again, even though my wealth attracts plenty of women into my life.
Actually, maybe it’s exactly because these women are attracted by my wealth that I’m not interested. I don’t want any more Ashleys in my life. I had one and I still haven’t managed to fully get rid of her yet, despite my best efforts.
“Take a seat, Megan,” I say, hoping she’d sidle up next to me.
“Thanks, Mr. Hunter,” she says as she sits her sexy ass down on the couch across the table from me.
I can’t deny that I’m attracted to her. She’s smart, beautiful, and hot as hell. Even Penny seems to like Megan enough to want her as her fake new mom.
Sure, none of this is real, and Penny came up with this crazy plan on the spot. But she must be aware that she might be spending much more time with Megan, if her plan were to work.
And now, as five adults convene around a coffee table in my very serious, very grown-up office, I can’t help but chuckle at the absurdity of it all.
“Anything wrong?” Lana asks with a confused frown.
Obviously, Lana’s under too much pressure to see the humor in the situation. It has only taken her forty-eight hours to get an officiant and gather all the documents needed to unite Megan and me in the sacred bonds of marriage. She has also invited Eliza to this simple ceremony so we’d have the required two witnesses.
“Nothing. Everything’s perfect, Lana. Don't worry,” I say, not wanting to distract her attention from the stack of papers in front of her.
We’re just puppets, all five of us. There’s a puppet master moving the strings behind the scenes, and she’s a ten-year-old girl who still has to turn on her nightlight to sleep.
“Alright, everyone’s here, so we can start now,” Lana announces.
The wedding officiant is young; probably no older than mid-twenties. Lana said she picked him from some website because he was the only one who’s available on such short notice. He casts his gaze all around, regarding the rest of us one by one.
Poor guy seems bewildered by how business-like everything is, and I don’t blame him. We’re even having it done at an actual office. No family, no friends; just a media spokesperson and an attorney—talk about absurd!
I bet he has a thousand questions running through his mind, but I’m sure he’s not going to ask any of them. Knowing Lana, she has probably sworn this guy to secrecy and made him sign a non-disclosure agreement.
He has been paid a lot of money to cancel all his other appointments. If this hadn’t been such an emergency, I would’ve felt bad for all those real lovers who had woken up this morning thinking they were about to get married, only to be stood up by their minister.
Come to think of it, those couples should thank me instead.
Marriage is no fun, and I wouldn’t do it again if it weren’t for a possible PR disaster that could lead to me losing my daughter.
I’ve had Lana prepare a thick stack of pre-nup agreement to make sure that Megan will only walk away with the two-hundred thousand dollars per year that we’ve already agreed to.
How many brides and grooms can honestly tell me they’ve insured themselves against the likely event of divorce?
Everybody should know by now that fifty percent of marriages end in divorce; and yet almost a-hundred percent of couples wouldn’t even think about that likelihood before it’s too late.
“Shall we stand up?” asks the officiant as he gets up from the couch. “Let’s do this over there,” he says, pointing at an empty space where there’s no furniture.
We all get up and stand where he directs us to go.
“Please face each other,” he says as he puts his hands on my shoulder and Megan’s. He gets us to stand face to face, about one foot apart.
This may sound crazy, but I want to grab his wrist and threaten him with violence when I see him touch her.
You know what? It doesn’t just sound crazy. It is crazy. I’m acting crazy.
Megan is not even my wife yet. And even if she is going to be legally my wife, this is just a ruse. A ploy to fool the public into thinking that I have the perfect family—the ideal situation for raising a little girl, because obviously a single man can’t also be a great dad.
The wedding officiant glances around to make sure everybody’s ready. When everyone has finished squaring their shoulders and adjusting their clothes, he says, “Friends and family of Megan Jones and Ethan Hun—”
Jesus, he’s actually going to do the whole thing? How long is he going to drag this out for?
“I like Lana and Eliza just fine, but they’re not my friends or family,” I cut him off.
He seems taken aback, but what’s the use of pretending that we’re having a normal wedding?
“Uh… Okay… Umm…” He stammers as he wildly scans the script written on the piece of paper he’s holding, searching for the relevant bits.
“Just read out the entire thing,” I say, sighing. At this rate, it would take more time to wait for him to decide which parts to leave out, rather than to listen to the whole damn thing.
“Okay,” he says with relief. “Friends and family of Megan Jones and Ethan Hunter, we are gathered here on this important day…”
As he drones on, I let my gaze rest on Megan. She may not be wearing white, but she looks better than many actual brides I’ve seen, even if she doesn’t dress herself any differently than any other work day.
She’s captivating. Her green pencil skirt outlines the curve of her hips and ass clearly, while her light, loose blouse keeps her outfit from being too sexy for the office.
I wish she’d make an exception today and go all out without worrying about being office-ap
propriate. Technically, she’s not here as my personal assistant today, but as my bride. I don’t know if that makes any difference to her, though, seeing as both count as work to her.
“Please repeat my words, Mr. Hunter,” says the wedding officiant. “I call upon everyone present here…”
“Do we really have to do this?” I ask. I really don’t see why we need to say these words, when nobody here believes that we’re doing this for real anyway.
“The sooner you say it, the sooner we can finish,” Lana says, giving me a look that tells me she has tried reasoning with the guy and failed.
Apparently, this guy, who has canceled all his wedding appointments at the last minute just to make more money, draws the line at officiating a wedding where vows are not said.
Weird.
But, okay.
I concede to the wedding officiant and repeat the words, deliberately not paying attention to the meaning behind them. They remind me too much of the vows I once made to Ashley in another lifetime. I don’t like to think about that moment, when I made one big mistake that would follow me for years to come.
I thought there was no other way at the time because Ashley was already pregnant with Penny. But we were always fighting. On our wedding day, we already hated each other. A blind rat in a house full of cats has better chances of survival than our marriage ever did.
It never occurred to me that we could co-parent without being married to each other.
But what can I say? I was young and stupid. I thought I just had to try my best and we’d be the perfect little family. I thought I had to get married eventually anyway, so why not now?
It was dumb, of course. But it took me too long to realize just how dumb it was.
“Miss Jones, would you please repeat my words?” asks the wedding officiant.
I watch, as if hypnotized, as Megan parts her full lips and say her vows to me. She looks at me from underneath her lush lashes, her blue eyes brilliant under the bright sunlight that’s streaming in through the big glass wall.
“I call upon everyone present here to witness that I, Megan Jones, take you, Ethan Hunter, to be my husband, to have and to hold from this day forward. I vow to love you and care for you for as long as we both shall live.”
Although I know she’s lying, like I just did, I can’t help but feel unfamiliar tingles in my heart. For a moment, I catch a glimpse of her true feelings in those pools of blue on her face. She’s worried—maybe even scared.
Unlike me, she’s young and not yet jaded by the reality of marriage as an institution. Like many other girls her age, she may even have fantasies about her wedding day, with her wearing a white gown and surrounded by her loved ones.
This whole time, I’ve been thinking of this as a mutually beneficial arrangement, seeing as Megan will receive a lot more money than she could ever dream to make as my personal assistant.
But suddenly, I feel bad for her. Maybe I’m taking something important away from her. Maybe I’m robbing her of the opportunity to have a real first wedding with a man she actually loves.
Damn it, there it is again. That pang of jealousy when I imagine another man with Megan.
I really shouldn’t care who she associates with, so why do I?
Maybe it’s been too long since the last time I had a woman in my life, that it makes me abnormally possessive.
Shit.
Do I consider her “a woman in my life” now? She’s supposed to be just another employee of mine, no different from Lana or Eliza.
Yet, I’ve never felt this way about either one of them, or any of my other employees. I’ve always been able to keep things completely professional, not just for appearances, but also inwardly. I’ve never been attracted to the people I work with.
I guess it’s because I’ve always been focused on working hard for Penny. Maybe I’ve been subconsciously ruling out the women at the office as potential partners because I was worried about how it would affect my business.
But now that the line is blurred between the professional and the personal between Megan and me, it’s like my eyes are now opened to the possibilities.
Or maybe it’s because I’ve been worried about how my dating would affect Penny. I’ve been avoiding women so they wouldn’t complicate my life and hurt Penny in the process.
I could deal with some crazy in my life if it were just me, but I could never risk introducing some nutcase to my daughter. But Penny seems to have taken to Megan, even though they’ve just had one short encounter.
It seems like things are going to get interesting, after all.
“Your wedding rings are the outward sign of the inward bond which unites your two hearts in love,” the wedding officiant says, spouting off his cheesy lines with no shame.
Lana steps forward to give me a ring. I hold out my hand and look expectantly at Megan. She puts her small, creamy, dainty hand on mine, and I’m overcome with the urge to pull her into my arms.
I restrain myself and just put the ring on her finger. My heart skips a beat when I see the golden band reflect the sunlight. It looks perfect perfect. It looks like it belongs there.
I tear my gaze away and let go of Megan’s hand. I’ll deal with these strange new feelings later, but this is not the time.
Lana hands Megan a matching ring, which she places on my finger.
I try to remind myself that this is just another contract, no different than the hundreds of legal agreements I’ve already signed in this office. These rings are just like signatures on this contract that we’re making.
I don’t protest when the wedding officiant declares us husband and wife, then tells us to seal our union with a kiss.
Sure, we may not have to do it because no government paperwork actually requires this bit, but I want to. I want to taste those pink, full lips.
I put my hands around Megan’s small waist and pull her closer. Why did I ever complain about the wedding officiant telling us to stand close to each other? It’s such a wonderful thing to be near her.
As Megan looks up into my eyes, her blonde hair catches the sunlight, making it look like there’s a white aura surrounding her. My breath catches. She’s beautiful, and I’m about to kiss her.
I lean in and tilt my head slightly to the side. She closes her eyes. This is happening.
Her lips feel soft and warm. The more I taste it, the more I want. Against my better judgment, I trace her sweet lips with my tongue.
She doesn’t pull away. If anything, her hands on my back urge me to get closer, to sample more of her. I’m not going to refuse her offer.
When we part, her lips look red and swollen, glistening with wetness. Her face is flushed, and her breathing is a quick and shallow. It takes zero imagination to picture her on the bed, looking exactly like that after I’ve worked her up and made her crave my cock inside her.
The entire office stays silent for a few seconds after I pull away, no doubt shocked by that passionate kiss.
Honestly, I’m surprised, too. I didn’t expect this level of chemistry. If I wanted Megan before, then I’m really craving her now.
“I’m pleased to present the newlyweds, Mr. and Mrs. Hunter,” the wedding officiant finally says.
Maybe it was awkward for Eliza and Lana to have witnessed their boss kissing another employee, but I don’t care.
I’ve had a little taste of Megan, and it has only made me want more.
Luckily for me, she’s going to live under my roof from now on.
Sooner or later, we’re going to end up in the same bed and I’m going to explore every inch of that sinful body.
Oh hey, look, I don’t hate my bride. This is better than my first marriage already.
Megan
I had no idea where Mr. Hunter lived before today. For some reason, I expected a big mansion with a long, winding driveway through a garden so big you could call it a forest.
The guy is so loaded I forget sometimes that he didn’t come from money.
It’
s a pretty big achievement that he has managed to get this rich—if he didn’t also destroy a lot of people’s lives to get here, that is. Knowing what I know, I can’t be too impressed.
But that was before I saw his home.
His apartment building looks like any other newer ones in the downtown area. All glass and steel, with a balcony that faces the water, overlooking the Pacific Ocean.
I’ve never lived in any place like that before, of course. But I know a few people who do, and I’ve visited a couple of times.
But I can feel the difference between those places and Mr. Hunter’s as soon as we walk up the stairs leading to the large glass double doors that serve as the main entrance to the building.
Instead of parking the car in a covered, restricted-access basement, Mr. Hunter just drives up the main driveway and stops the car.
One man in a white shirt and a black vest opens the door on my side. Another man wearing the same uniform lets Mr. Hunter out, then takes the wheel himself. He drives away, presumably to park the car. This apartment building has a freaking valet.
Instead of a regular key fob system to open the doors, there’s a fingerprint scanner. It’s not like it’s needed, though, because both the doorman and the concierge recognize Mr. Hunter and address him by name. I guess he’ll never be locked out of the building.
“May I take the luggage, Mr. Hunter?” asks the concierge as he walks around the counter, revealing a portly belly that tests the strength of his shirt buttons. He has prominent cheekbones that don’t match the rest of his body, a pair of friendly brown eyes, and a big smile.
“There’s no need, Paul, thank you. I can do it myself,” Mr. Hunter says as he continues to pull my red hard-case luggage across the marble floors of the apartment lobby.
“Very well, Sir,” Paul replies.
Mr. Hunter stops in his tracks, like he has just suddenly remembered something. He puts one possessive hand around my shoulders, sending a thrill down my spine. Turning around, he says to Paul, “This is my wife, by the way. She’ll be living here from now on.”