6

I left the dress I wore to be married in on the bed in the hotel. For some reason, I couldn't bring it upon myself to pack it up and take it home with me. As I put the items that I brought with me back in my bag, I caught glimpses of the ring that had been put on my finger during the ceremony. I refused to stop and take a closer look though. It seemed like the one thread where if I pulled too hard, everything would unravel, and I'd lose what was left of my precarious sanity.

Thankfully, I had packed light on the way to Vegas, so that meant I just had to put the same clothes on that I traveled in before, and head on out. It made for a quick turnaround time in getting back out of the hotel unnoticed. There was an Uber waiting to take me to the airport, and a ticket that would get me back home in about seven hours. Unfortunately, there would be a wait at the airport, but that couldn't be helped since there were no earlier flights. Instead of worrying about it, I found a nice little nook to stow myself away near my departure gate. There, I took out my iPad and set to work on writing what I hoped would be a best-selling book. Honestly, I didn't even care if it never made a big-time book list, I just wanted to be able to stash some money away for a rainy day and know that I'd seen some success.

The words flowed freely, and soon I was lost to my work. So lost, in fact, that I never even realized when two people sat down on either side of me. Everyone else had ignored the space I had turned into my temporary workstation. Instead, they opted to be closer to the lines where they would eventually board their flights.

My fingers flew over the keys, typing out a very steamy scene, in which the hero took his woman up against the exterior wall of the bar where they'd just met. He was claiming her and didn't care who saw it happen. She was so lost to the lust, and slightly intoxicated, that she didn't care either. It was a wild tryst for her, nothing more. Something to tell her friends about later after they'd insisted that she was the least daring person in their friend group.

The hero had her panties ripped off her, fingers lodged deep in her pussy, and his hard cock being pumped by her hands as he said, "Jesus, baby, I don't even know if you'll be able to take all of me. So fucking tight."

Someone cleared their throat beside me. "I think I need to hit up the bathroom after reading that," the man who had been seated next to me said as he stood. "You weren't kidding about the porn writing." That was when I finally came out of my writer's fog and glanced over to see that it had been Wes who was sitting beside me and reading over my shoulder. On my other side was, a now slightly more interested, Tucker. Wes didn't have any shame and adjusted himself right there for all to see before walking away.

Tucker took a moment to peek over my shoulder and I caught his grin before I closed my iPad to keep their prying eyes away from my work. "What are you doing here?"

"Same as you. Going home," he insisted. "Though, I had planned on us staying in Vegas for another night."

"Nothing's stopping you from doing that," I countered.

He laughed. "I can't exactly have my new wife come home the day before I do, sweetheart."

"Don't call me that, and why not? If it's that big a deal, I can get a hotel for the night when I get in and no one has to be the wiser."

"Okay, then what's the difference in staying in the hotel here with me and one back home by yourself?"

I rolled my eyes. "I thought that would be obvious."

"It's not, so enlighten me."

"Listen, I get that this isn't a typical situation, but I don't need to hang around for your shenanigans with other women. I've already told you; I'd prefer you to keep whatever you're doing out of sight, and that meant during our fake wedding too."

"Mina," he whispered my name, almost reverently and I could hear what sounded like an apology in the tone.

"No, you listen, I get that we needed another witness, but using women you hooked up with – or planned to hook up with – was," I took in a deep breath, trying to find the right word, and failing. "It was so disrespectful to me. I can't even comprehend putting another human being in that position. If you thought I needed a reminder of where I stand, I assure you I did not. You've made yourself perfectly clear how you feel about me and this marriage."

"Mina, I swear it wasn't like that. They were there in the lobby when we met with the officiant. It was just a matter of coincidence and convenience. No disrespect meant."

"You really don't get it, do you? Your convenience meant my discomfort, and you just didn't care. You may never love me, or even like me. I'm fine with that, but the least you could do is be a little careful of my feelings, after all, I'm not really gaining anything from this arrangement. It's all to save your ass, not mine."

I stood and gathered my bag close to my body. "Where are you going now?" He asked.

"I don't want to be near you," I told him truthfully. "I'm going to sit somewhere else, and you are going to leave me alone." Wes had wandered back from wherever he had run off to by then and he took the seat I'd just vacated.

"What the hell did you say to chase her off this time?"

"The wrong thing, again, apparently," I heard Tucker say.

"Did you tell her you invited the women because you were still jealous that she was going to hook up with the giant Texan?"

I didn't hear if Tucker even bothered to answer Wes because I moved too far away to overhear anything else. Having booked myself into a coach seat while the guys had chosen first class meant that I also didn't have to be near them during our flight home. Wes tried, and failed, to swap seats with me before the flight took off, and since we were in two different sections of the plane, I didn't have to deal with either of them for the entire flight. Instead, I had to listen to my seatmate snore almost the entire time, and honestly, that was the better option.

As I disembarked the flight though, both Wes and Tucker were there in the passenger boarding bridge, waiting for me. Once I neared them, they kept pace with me as we made our way into the airport terminal. When we were out of the way of other passengers, Tucker pulled me to the side.

"Mina, when we get out of the secure area of the airport, anyone could see us. You know how the hometown press is and I know they already got wind that I'd flown out of town for some reason. They'll be waiting for me to come back."

"Okay, and that means what?"

"We have to actually look like we are happy and that we just got married, not that we just got back from someone's funeral."

I reached into my bag and pulled out a "What happens in Vegas Stays in Vegas" hat that I had purchased on a whim at the gift shop before leaving. Then I moved over to the shop off to our right and purchased a pair of large sunglasses that would hide most of my face. "Okay then, this should do to help hide the fact that I'm not, in fact, a blushing bride." I waved my hand in front of him indicating his face. "I don't know what to do about all that, so maybe you'll have to be a little better about acting happy."

He hissed out a breath and pulled me close, wrapping his arm around my waist. "Try not to look like I'm kidnapping you, okay?"

Wes laughed and promised to grab our bags if we wanted to just meet him in the parking garage where we left the car on the way to Vegas. He had grabbed a ride to the airport on his way to Vegas and was going to be riding back to the apartment with us. I yanked my phone out and went through the pics I took while in Vegas until I got to the one that I'd taken of the parking area.

"G-4," I told the guys while plastering a wide, very insincere smile on my face.

Tucker laughed, remembering what I said about why I took the picture, and that was a good thing, because it just so happened to be the moment some sneaky photographer took our photo, and when they printed it later, it did make us look like that happy, newlywed couple coming back from eloping in Vegas.

Despite me originally thinking that Wes would hope in the Audi with us, he ended up arranging a different ride home so that Tucker and I would have time to talk on the way back to my new husband's apartment. Despite really not wanting to be there, I didn't see as I had much of a choice in the matter, for now, so I went without a fight. Once we made it to the privacy of the apartment, with a locked door separating us from the rest of the world, I managed to ask the all-important question.

"Where exactly will I be staying?"

"The apartment is temporary," he informed me before taking my hand and walking me to the living room where there were a few printed pages of what looked to be real estate listings scattered on the coffee table. "Pick one, and we'll call it home as soon as the sale goes through." Just like that, we were picking out our future home. Everything somehow continued to move ahead at lightspeed, without any sign of slowing. I had to take a minute, along with a deep breath or twelve, in order to calm the rising panic over what I had done and the implications that decision held for my future.

I glanced at the three options that were sitting there, read through the details of each, and eventually picked the one I did because it had a privacy fenced back yard with lots of trees blocking the rest of the view, and a swimming pool that I would love to utilize. If I had to be fake married and live with the indignities that the arrangement would bring, I might as well be able to have one thing that would make me happy, right?

"This one," I told him as I handed him my choice.

"All right, I'll get Cynthia on it right away."

"For now, where am I staying?"

"I have four bedrooms in the place, pick one, though your clothes and shit will have to go in the master in case anyone stops by."

"Who in the hell is going to stop by the bedroom that doesn't already know?" I meant the fact that our parents would know the marriage was fake, for the most part.

"Listen, I know our parents – well our fathers – set this up, but you have to understand that they fully expect this to be a lasting marriage that produces heirs and all that crap," he announced.

"They what?"

"Come on, your dad had to have this conversation with you."

"No. My father said he hoped that we would make more of it eventually, not that it was a requirement."

"I promise you, the same is not true of my family's expectations."

"Yeah? Well, what would you have me do then, fake some fertility issue so we have to do IVF in order to have these imaginary children down the road?"

He just gave me an odd look before asking, "Why the hell would we need to do that? Do you have a fertility issue I should know about?"

"No, but it's kind of hard to produce heirs when we aren't fucking," I insisted. That was when Tucker started laughing. I did not, because I saw nothing at all funny about the situation.

"When it's time, that's exactly what we'll have to do." He managed to get that much out before leaving me there with my mouth gaping in shock. I could not have possibly heard him correctly. There was no way, NO WAY, I was going to sleep with him. I couldn't. Hell, I wouldn't. There was no guarantee it would even be safe for me to do so considering his proclivity for bedding fast and loose women. No offense to those women and getting their fun on, but let's be real, the more promiscuous a person, the greater the chances of passing along nasty little diseases that no one wanted.

It was four days later when I finally turned my phone back on and started really paying attention to all the messages that had been left. The press had pointed out that when Tucker and I returned from Vegas, we were both wearing rings on our very important fingers. I assumed that was why the messages and voicemails had flooded in.

As I started scanning through the myriad of texts left for me, I finally got to the one text that I couldn't ignore. Both families were summoning Tucker and me to a dinner the following night that we were required to attend. It would be the fifth day since we arrived home from Vegas, and four days since I'd even laid eyes on my husband. Apparently, he was hold up elsewhere in the world. My best guess was that he was staying with Wes, who could go out and pick up women for him so that he could quietly entertain them with no one being the wiser. I was the forgotten wife, left to my own devices in his apartment, where I never felt comfortable. At least, that's what I'd been telling myself for the past few days.

I still hadn't been home yet, which meant that I only had a few options for clothing. I managed to procure a couple of outfits via an online shopping stint. It did not however prepare me for a dinner with the families, to announce our marriage. It was then that I broke down and called my sister so that she could do some shopping for me.

We managed to accomplish that, and I slept off and on, rather fitfully through the night, wondering if my husband would even show up to said dinner since I hadn't heard from him at all. For all I knew, he could be dead, and I'd just inherited his entire fortune and now his family would have to wine and dine me in order to get it all back. I laughed at the thought. Wouldn't that be something?

Granted, I already knew that the Brightons had the money and businesses set up so that only a male heir could inherit, which was absolutely ridiculous. And so, my mind wondered down crazy paths with the thought. What if we had to do IVF to ensure that we were producing a male heir and not a female? Was that possible? Did people produce designer babies yet? I cringed at the thought. I was one of those people who never even wanted to know the gender until the baby was born. I wanted it all to be a surprise.

Not that I was bound to ever have that experience anyway. Well, maybe, if I divorced by 25 or 26, I would still have time to meet someone, make babies, and experience all of that before I hit my thirties.

I was wearing a black, Fluid Modern Blazer overtop of a silk, green camisole, with black, button front, high rise jeans courtesy of a trip to Loft. The black mule shoes were already ones that I owned, and again, I eschewed the sexiness of a heel in favor of comfort. My hair was pinned up in a chunky braid updo that was difficult to obtain, considering how slippery my silky hair always was. I didn't even care that a few strands had escaped the carefully crafted look to fall around my face. I kept my makeup light with just a hint of green eyeliner to match my shirt and make my eyes pop a bit, mascara, and gloss that smelled like a good day at the beach.

I grabbed my purse, threw my phone in it, even though I'd had the damn thing turned off since I first received my dinner summons and begged my sister for help. Okay, so I was a coward, and didn't want to know if he had called me or decided to just throw me to the wolves for this dinner. Since I hadn't heard a word from him before then, I figured nothing much would change. With my purse slung over my shoulder, I moved to the door, ready to head to my parent's house where the dinner was being hosted.

I admit, I was a little thankful that it would be done on my family's turf. It made things a bit easier to swallow, especially since I had no clue if my missing husband planned on attending. I managed to get all the way down to street level, ready to jump in my Uber, that said it would be there in three minutes, when I ran into the first snag of the evening.

My husband's best friend was standing there, having just gotten out of the silver BMW that was parked in front of the building. He glanced up and saw me, clearly shocked by my presence for some reason. That reason became apparent when my husband removed himself from the back seat and attempted to peel off the woman who was in there with him. She looked like a damn octopus, trying to drag him back inside the car with her.

"Don't go, you can come with me instead – again," she tacked that last word on rather slyly. My eyes moved from that spectacle back to Wes's guilty face. I'd hand it to him, the red hue of embarrassment he had going on really helped sell the guilty look.

"What's wrong with you?" Tucker asked his friend when he noticed him just standing there. That was when my husband turned around and realized I was there on the sidewalk, not even ten feet away. It just so happened, that his flavor of the day managed to get herself free of the backseat and wrap her arms around him, while simultaneously sucking on his neck, at the same moment he noticed me.

"Shit!" was hissed from between his clenched teeth, then my name, "Mina," all while trying to wrestle the other woman off his body.

I ignored him and the spectacle he was causing. I also ignored the photographer stationed across the street who happened to be the lucky asshole to capture every bit of it. I ignored Wes when he moved to come towards me, and do what? I had no clue. I was able to bypass all of it because the world's most prompt and efficient Uber driver pulled up just in the nick of time.

I scrambled into the black Honda Pilot and quickly locked the door behind me. "Please, drive as quickly as possible," I asked. "That ex of mine can't take a hint," I instructed so he would understand it was an uncomfortable situation I was escaping from. The man, who was earning every bit of the large tip he was about to get, got us out of there before I managed to slip my seatbelt on.

"Why can't the exes ever just let things be when it's over?" The man asked.

"I wish I knew," was all I could manage to say because let's face it, I was the one who needed to take a hint. I couldn't believe he brought someone to the apartment only an hour before we were supposed to be at my family's house for dinner. I also couldn't believe, after everything we had discussed, and all that he had on the line, that he would make such a public display of his bullshit again. My stomach felt queasy as my heart hammered heavily against my chest.

My phone remained on silent as we drove. My driver, Ted, attempted a little small talk, but I thwarted anything further by explaining that I was on my way to a family dinner to tell them how my husband had cheated on me and our marriage was all over.

After his swift apology, we simply drove in blessed silence. "I don't mean to alarm you," the driver mentioned when we were about five miles out, "but I think that car you were trying to get away from back there has been following us."

I glanced out the back window, and sure enough there was a silver BMW following just behind us and not trying to be slick about it either. I wondered briefly if the asshole was planning to show up to the dinner with the mystery woman in tow. Then, I wondered what the hell I had done in my past lives to deserve this type of Karma.

In this life, I had been a relatively good person. There was that time when I stole a pack of gum because I couldn't take 'no' for an answer. It was not the cliché story about how I was caught, forced to apologize, pay for the gum or learned a special lesson. I never got caught because I wasn't stupid enough to chew my gum when my parents were watching. I did, however, feel guilty for doing it, and so never did again.

Surely, my one childhood foray into the criminal underbelly of petty theft couldn't have wrought this kind of constant torment in my life though. "Ugh," I groaned out loud. "It will be fine," I told my driver as his worried gaze met my own. "If he bothers me too much, I'm sure my father will shoot him."

Tim laughed, but I was serious. If that asshole showed up with some skank plastered to his side, after marrying his daughter, my father might just pull a gun on him. He wasn't a made man or Mobster or whatever, but I also wasn't stupid enough to think that my father didn't have the capability of behaving that way if the need arose. I'd had the pleasure of overhearing some of the things he had planned for good old Uncle Max, if he was ever found.

When we got to my parent's house, I paid, tipped my driver well, and even took an extra moment to make sure I gave him a stellar review and a huge thanks for doing what he could to get me away from the man who followed us anyway. I was surprised to see that Tucker was the one to climb out of the driver's seat of the BMW and that Wes was no longer with him. I guess Wes and guest were left behind at the apartment.

That actually made me question security issues I had with leaving my things at the apartment. I did not want strange women to have access to my things. Actually, just thinking that sent me into a huge panic because I had left my iPad behind, the one that contained the book I had been working so hard on. Considering it was almost complete, the last thing I needed was for someone to steal my iPad and for all my hard work to be lost. I was mid-panic attack when Tucker made his way over to me.

"Mina," he managed to get my name out before he took in my rapid breathing and descent into complete freak out mode. "Jesus, Mina, sit down," he ordered when he saw the state that I was in.

"I need to get back," I insisted as I shook my head wildly at his suggestion to take a seat. My driver already left, but I need to get back. "My things are at your apartment."

"Our apartment," he insisted. "And they're supposed to be there."

"No," I yelled, shaking my head more vehemently. "I can't trust them being there. You have a strange woman parading around there right now, what if she steals my iPad? My life's work is on that thing!"

"Steal your work? What the hell are you talking about? There's no one else in our apartment."

"You left Wes and that woman behind, where else would they go?"

"Hopefully, that bitch found her own way home. Wes's place is across the hall from mine, so he most likely went there," Tucker offered up in explanation.

"Wes lives across the hall from you?" I questioned, wondering how I never knew that.

Tucker nodded. "He lives across the hall from us, yes."

How was it possible that I thought my husband had been staying somewhere with Wes, and hadn't realized he might have been that close by the entire time? My life was ridiculous.

"Come on, you need to pull it together so we can get in there and get this family dinner over with."

"You think this dinner matters now?"

"Why wouldn't it?"

"Are you stupid?" I asked, legitimately wanting to know the answer to the question. He just stared at me, as if in answer of whether he was that unintelligent. "You literally just got out of that car," I hissed as my finger extended in the direction of the BMW. "You did so in front of your apartment, with a woman – who was not your wife – groping all over you, kissing you, and all while your actual wife and best friend stood by watching."

"Not that it makes a difference, but I wasn't with her like that. She saw you standing there and thought she might persuade me to change my mind about an offer she made. Cynthia had high hopes I might marry her instead of you."

"Cynthia? As in the realtor handling the house you're buying?"

"Yeah," he managed to get out before I laughed at him.

"Wow. You are truly either a clueless asshole or a heartless bastard, and I honestly don't know which is worse at this point."

"I'm sorry you had to see her behave that way. I promise, I've never been with her intimately, if that's what you're worried about."

"What I'm worried about?" I parroted back as a question while I laughed at his ignorance. "I'm guessing you didn't see the man standing across the street taking all of those photos of me watching you being mauled by some other woman less than a week after we supposedly came back from Vegas happily married."

"What the hell?"

"Yup. So, good luck with that when our families, the board, and whoever this sham is supposed to impress see the pictures. You now look like the philandering husband that you are."

"I am not. Damn it, Mina, what the hell makes you think that I'm cheating on you?"

"Firstly, because you told me from the beginning that you would. You even have a free pass to do so written into our prenup – and that free pass actually included any children you might create with someone else. Then there's the fact that you haven't even been home in four days, wait five days now. So, if you weren't with anyone, then why the need to stay somewhere else every night? Better yet, why did I have to stay at your apartment if you weren't even there? Wasn't that the point of me being there so people would think we were living together as husband and wife?"

"Christ, that's the last time I listen to Wes's advice. I stayed with him because he thought you might appreciate the time to yourself in the apartment, considering you never wanted any of this. His apartment is the only other one on the floor with mine, so it didn't appear as though I was staying anywhere else."

"Funny, because I did guess correctly that you were staying with Wes. I just didn't know that you were literally across the hall in the other apartment on the floor."

"I didn't know that you would care."

"I don't. Not really. A head's up would have been nice. I even wondered if maybe you were just dead somewhere, and your family was waiting on me to tell them that you had gone missing. I never bothered to tell them, of course, because I had no clue where you were, whom you were with, or if you were even in danger."

He hissed out a string of curse words and they were laced pretty heavily with his best friend's name as well. "Can we please, agree to talk about all this after the disaster of a family dinner we're about to have to sit through? I promise we will get on the same page about everything once we're done so that there are no more miscommunications."

"Sure. That's fine, but there's still the issue of you breaking a promise to me."

"And what was that?" He asked the question as he rubbed at the bridge of his nose.

"You weren't supposed to make me look like a fool who condones the cheating bullshit, and you already managed to screw that up. Now, I either have to get a quick annulment from you or look like a complete and total idiot who believes your lies when you cheat."

"Just shoot me," he mumbled. "I told you," he started to offer up his excuse about his realtor again, but then fell short when I shook my head.

"It doesn't matter what really happened, Tucker. You put yourself in a position where your actions could be called into question. What were you doing sitting in the back seat with that woman while your friend drove you around anyway? Why didn't you attempt to push her off you until you saw me standing there? Again, why would you even put yourself in a situation where that outcome was even a possibility? And don't tell me that it was all Cynthia's fault. She obviously knows something she shouldn't if she was offering to trade places with me and become your wife instead."

He sighed. "She overheard Wes ask me if you were going to be able to keep the house when it didn't work out between us. From there, she kept badgering me about it, telling me that she was more than willing to play the part of my doting wife, and would have no problem with me sneaking off to meet up with other women, so long as I gave her a little attention in the bedroom too. We were headed back to the apartment to pick you up so that I could use you as a human shield and get you to sign the necessary papers to move forward with the house."

"I don't want that house anymore."

"What? Why?"

"Seriously? Your realtor completely disrespected me, and you think I want her to get a commission on a house worth that much? Besides, Wes was probably onto something. There's really no need in buying a house that we'll just end up moving out of and having to sell later."

"Why would we move out?"

I gave him a look, because there was no point in describing to him how ridiculous that question even was. Instead, I moved around him and started to make my way further down the driveway. "You should get that car parked somewhere out of the way," I told him as I continued walking.

"Shouldn't we make our entrance together?" He called out to me.

"I don't see why we would," I threw back as I continued to walk away. Maybe, it made me a poor sport, but I didn't have it in me to fake things anymore today. Maybe, I never did.

I entered the house first and waited there for a few minutes in the entryway for Tucker to join me, but he was taking an exceptional amount of time to park the car. Part of me wondered if he had decided it wasn't worth his time to show up. Lucky him, if he had decided to ditch. It didn't take long for our respective family members to start grilling me, once I made my way to the dining room. My father, sensing my increasing discomfort, pulled me into his study. "Tell me you didn't do this, not after we had our last talk."

"I did, it's done." I pushed my hand forward and allowed him to see the ring that I still refused to look at.

"Oh, Mina, I wish you wouldn't have." While we were sitting there, I went ahead and explained the way the realtor had ambushed Tucker when he was trying to square things away with the house. "There was a man across the street with a camera, so I'm sure that it will come to light pretty quickly, considering the way people around here enjoy their billionaire gossip."

While my father assured me that he would get his legal team on it as soon as our dinner was finished, I couldn't bring myself to care. It was also the first time I had ever acknowledged the fact that my now husband would become a billionaire once he inherited his family's conglomerate and fortunes. It was definitely enough to make me nervous about the whole situation I'd managed to get myself into. Once we sat down to eat dinner, after I finally made my father believe that what was done was done, and there would be no backing out on my part, everything seemed to finally calm down. At least they had until several phones at the table started pinging.

My sister, who was seated to my left, grabbed hers and clicked on a notification only to pull up a video that appeared to be taken outside of this very house. I leaned in as she hit play and turned the volume up.

"I wanted to get ahead of the narrative for once," Tucker was saying, in what looked like a self-made video. "See, because of who I am, there are always people out there willing to throw themselves into the fray and take advantage. That happened to me earlier today. Normally, I would blow it off and not even bother giving it a moment of my time, because it's not deserving of such. This time, I have someone else to think about though. My new wife was standing there, to witness what happened, and I don't want anyone to think poorly of her. I honestly don't care how you portray me, so long as it doesn't come back to hurt Mina.

"I went, with my best friend, who happens to also be my lawyer, to try to close a real estate deal on a house that I planned to move my wife into. While she picked it, I wanted to surprise her and try to get the deal done quicker. We met the real estate agent, Cynthia Blackwell, at the estate where she overheard my friend, Wes, joke about what would happen to the house if my wife realized I was a royal prick and divorced me. First of all, let's be clear, my wife is a smart lady and already knows I'm a royal prick, so that will never happen.

"Cynthia, saw an opportunity where there was only a joke. Somehow, her car suddenly wouldn't start, so she rode back to the apartment with us, and sat in the back with me so that she could explain some of the finer details that might hold up the sale, as well as what we could do to get around them. The minute we pulled up to the apartment, and Cynthia saw my wife waiting there, she threw herself at me physically. Even getting myself fully out of the car wasn't enough, because she followed me out and tried to latch onto my body like some weird spider monkey." He visibly shivered for the camera as he addressed the situation. "My wife saw what was happening, and as any classy woman with standards would do, she removed herself from the situation immediately, because it was beneath her.

"Why am I telling everyone about this, instead of just handling it quietly with my wife? Well, it's because a life like mine doesn't afford a person a whole lot of privacy. We saw someone either taking still shots or video as everything happened. I'm sure they didn't catch the audio track, with me telling Cynthia that I would call the police and have her arrested for assault if she didn't get off me, because that doesn't make a juicy enough story for the people who attempt to sell these things. They like to push their own fictional narrative far too often, and unfortunately for me, past behaviors make it seem highly likely that I was just being a horrible husband, when in reality I just wanted to buy my wife's dream home so we could move in and get our lives started in the place where we planned to grow our family."

Tucker sighed into the camera and looked away for a moment, seemingly to collect his thoughts. "The thing is, like with so many other stories that have been printed about me, I normally wouldn't have cared what the press got right or wrong, but I can't abide by a story that would make my wife appear to be weak when she is probably the strongest person I know. Trust me, Mina would have my boys in a jar on her desk if she thought for a second that anything suspect was going on. And you know what, I'd let her, because I'd deserve it."

I risked a glance in Tucker's direction as the video continued to play. He was watching me, waiting for my reaction. I didn't offer one yet, choosing instead to turn back to the video.

"So, Cynthia, you owe my wife an apology for your appalling behavior. We also will no longer require your services as a real estate agent. We will go with someone a little more professional in the future. As for everyone else out there, the narrative you're given for people in the spotlight isn't always the correct one. Keep that in mind before judging people." Then the crazy man looked directly into the camera, as if he were looking right into my soul. "Mina, I'm sorry that the house didn't work out, and that the real estate chick turned out to be a problem. I promise, I'll get you the house of your dreams soon."

Then the video cut to a gorgeous television news personality as she grinned at that camera and fanned herself. "Is it just me, ladies, or are you all just as envious of Mina as I am right now? She caught a good one there." I rolled my eyes as I turned to Tucker, so he could finally see that reaction. The egotistical shit took a moment to grin widely at me. Damn the reporter for over-inflating his ego in the midst of a potential scandal.

"All fixed," he mouthed to me before taking another sip of the sweet tea that my mom insisted on putting in front of him.

"You know," my father started in then. "You wouldn't have to make videos like that if you were more careful about the people you involve yourself with. The minute that woman made an overture, you and Wes should have called her a tow truck, a taxi, and went your separate ways. Business sense needs to roll over to your personal life too. If someone seems wrong in business, you cut ties and keep distance. Same is true in life. I shouldn't even need to address this part, but were you really going to pick my daughter up and put her in the car with the same woman who had just propositioned you about taking her place?"

"While I appreciate the advice in hindsight, it wasn't something that occurred to me as being an issue, no. I knew where I stood with things, so the rest didn't matter. Obviously, I just learned a lesson about why it shouldn't have happened that way. As you already know, your daughter and I have a rather untraditional union that also happens to be new. It's going to take a minute for the both of us to get our bearings and for things to run smoothly."

"Couldn't have said that better myself, Son," Tucker's father butted in, making the man sitting beside me cringe. The last person he wanted to be seen as pleasing, was his father. The elder Tucker really was a cheating bastard who had no problem using his son in order to further the family's business where he, himself wasn't able to. I imagine that he thought once his son inherited the family's wealth that the son would share it with his father. Somehow, I didn't think that was how things would turn out, but I guess Reginald didn't realize that just yet.

I reached down and patted Tucker's thigh, because I understood how that must have made him feel. Despite our differences, we both had been pawns in our family's maneuvers, even if my father had seen fit to back out in the end.

"While we're all here," Tucker's grandfather announced, "I need to make sure that you sign this." The man tossed what had to be a thirty-page document down the table to land in front of my plate with a solid thud. It also almost knocked over my own half-full glass of sweet tea. Rude.

"What is this?" I asked.

"I recently received a copy of that ridiculous pre-nuptial agreement the two of you signed, and there were some items of importance left out." He cleared his throat and looked pleased as punch with himself as he continued. "I took it upon myself to have my lawyer look it over and address all the areas of weakness, and the lack of clarity about what future children might inherit."

"You did what?" Tucker asked as I glanced down at the document in front of me.

"As you pointed out, I already signed a prenup, and we are legally married, so it's a bit late for that," I told Mr. Brighton. Still, I started flipping through the pages and scanning over them quickly. Once again, there was a lot of unnecessary legalese included, which stacked up the page count ridiculously in my opinion.

"Any children of mine, that are not linked by DNA to Mr. Tucker through valid DNA testing will get nothing, not even a stake in the company my father started," I paraphrased. "Oh, but this gets juicy, any children, no matter their maternal DNA, who are produced by Mr. Tucker are entitled to a portion of our estate – including anything I bring to the table." I glanced up at Mr. Brighton. "That doesn't really seem fair."

"It's a post nuptial agreement, one that cover's my family's assets, and you will sign it," he demanded.

"Actually, I don't think I will, and there is absolutely nothing you can do to force my hand. Plus, there are all these witnesses here to testify to the fact that I refused, should my name somehow magically end up scrawled on this toilet paper that you call a legal document."

"Young lady, you will not speak to me in such a manner."

"I'm sorry," I let the apology settle for just a few short seconds before I took it one step further. "I am from a generation that is fond of giving respect where it is due, and expecting it back in equal measure whether I have a penis swinging between my legs or not. I have never done anything to be treated like the garbage this contract insinuates I am. Firstly, no matter what verbal agreements there are, I would never actually go against the vows I took when I married your grandson. That's because my word means something to me. So, there wouldn't be a concern about children I might have outside of my marriage.

"Secondly, if your grandson chooses to not take his vows seriously, that's on him, and I will not be held accountable for any ramifications his actions may incur, whether they are of the living and breathing variety or the type you can just take a shot of penicillin for." I winked at him then.

"Thirdly, I already signed the only documents I plan on signing. It was fair, concise, and didn't take a year to wade through. It's a shame that it's not up to your standards, but since this marriage is between that man and myself," I told him as I pointed to his grandson, "then it really doesn't matter what you think should have been in the document we both signed. If you choose to disinherit any of my future children, you can do so in your own Last Will and Testament, which you of course have every right to do. And lastly, you needed this marriage to happen so that you could get a piece of my father's fuel cells."

There were several gasps around the table since no one had bothered to let me in on that fact. The past few days, while being squirreled away in Tucker's apartment with no one to speak to, had me doing quite a bit of research. "Don't act like you did me any favors because I don't care about your money, status, or your name. I did this for my own reasons, mostly to help my father out. But let's not make any mistakes here – you needed this more than he did. My father could have sold his business off for a fortune that would have more than covered anything his previous business partner stole."

The man's narrow-eyed gaze did not deter me. "Now, if y'all will excuse me, I've had enough of people trying to shovel bullshit my way. I'm tired, I have a quiz to study for, a paper to write, and a book to finish. All of those things are far more important than being summoned to some stupid dinner so a completely out of touch tyrant can shovel his expectations for my marriage at me," I explained as I tossed the overlarge legal document back to the man who rudely tossed it to me first. Unfortunately for him, I managed to knock his drink over in the process. Mr. Brighton stood quickly to avoid the spilled mess ending up in his lap.

Tucker stood too, "I'll drive you back to the apartment," he offered.

I nodded and leaned down to give my sister a quick kiss on the cheek. "We'll catch up soon," I promised her as I did so.

"You're darn right we will. Let me know when you're done with classes tomorrow."

"Mina?" My mother called to me from where she sat near my father at the head of the table. When I turned her way, she smiled warmly at me. "You make me proud," was all she said. I couldn't speak, because it was rare that my mother said things like that to me. Instead of succumbing to my emotions there in front of everyone, I simply nodded and left the room with Tucker following close behind on my heels.

"I have to agree with your mother," he finally said when we were both secured in the front seat of the BMW. "I've never seen a single person stand up to my grandfather that way. It was amazing."

"You should have been the one to do it," I countered. "He's your grandfather. Stop being so afraid of losing your wealth and take a stand when it's needed. That's what you should have done in the beginning when you didn't want to marry someone as the price of a merger or to appease the board. Instead of giving them more fuel for why they should hate you, you should have been working toward proving them wrong in other ways – like your business prowess instead of your bedroom moves."

"You're right," he announced as he put the car in gear, and we started moving.

"Is this even your car?" I asked as I glanced around, looking for any show of personality. The Audi we had taken to the airport at least had a guitar shaped air freshener hanging from a little hook in the dash.

"No. This is Wes's."

"You stole his car?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "I had somewhere to be, and he didn't. Besides, he was already at home."

"I guess you two are really good friends then."

"We are the best of. Have been since we were young." When I didn't bother responding, he asked a different question. "What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Why haven't I met any of your friends?"

"Because I don't have any."

He laughed, thinking I was joking. When I didn't laugh with him, he chanced a glance at me. "You can't be serious. Everyone has friends."

"No, everyone doesn't have friends."

Tucker drove in silence for a few minutes before he quietly asked his next question. "Why don't you have anyone, Mina?"

"Because people are very disappointing," I answered, not wanting to dive into the reasons why I stopped hanging out with literally everyone I used to know. Even my sister wasn't aware of what happened to make me the way I am, and she was probably the person I was closest to on the planet these days. I certainly wasn't about to trust the worst moment in my life to a man I barely knew, even if he was married to me now.

"Maybe, one day, you'll tell me why."

I didn't bother with false platitudes, because the answer was probably more like, 'not in this lifetime'.