Special Day

I get into the car and drive her home as quickly and safely as I can. When I drop her off, I park outside Monique's apartment, satisfying the slight hunger I feel right now. I want to go to her apartment and claim her lips once again, if not her body, but there is so much at stake, so I stay put until I decide to call her, but no one picks up. I try again until she finally answers.

"Hello, Mr. McIntyre?" Her sweet voice calms the pacing beast in me, and I close my eyes, drowning in it as she keeps calling me again and again. Oh right. "Sorry, connection issues." I clear my throat but frown when I hear a male voice say something. "Where are you?" "My apartment, or well, my neighbor's?" her neighbor's apartment? "Why?" "Personal reasons, sir. Do you need something?" Yes. No. I don't even know.

"No, just checking if Mrs. Williams agreed or not." "Of course, sir, she says she'll wait for your call. Excuse me." I internally gag when I hear her laugh at this neighbor guy, but I don't say anything. I'm in no place to be jealous; I'm not even jealous. Her safety is just a concern; that's it.

"Right, apologies, sir." "That's fine. You can get back to what you were doing. Goodnight. I'll see you on Thursday." I hang up and exhale, gripping the steering wheel.

It's just a neighbor; she's probably helping him. Or they're on a date. No. I drive off before my thoughts drive me to do something impulsive. I'll see her at work Thursday; there's no need to get upset. I say to the fast pace in my chest.

I'm thinking that this isn't a simple attraction if my body reacts to just the thought of her this way, but what else could it be? Sure, she's extremely good-looking. She's the most beautiful woman I've ever laid eyes on, and if she can get my heart racing just by hearing her voice, it has to be something more.

I plop down onto the hotel bed after a shower and take my phone. No news update about tonight. Yet.

I go into messages lingering in the chat of Monique until a notification pops up, and I click the unknown number. A picture of Isabelle holding my hand from an angle where her ring is visible.

Unknown: Isn't it a good picture, husband?

Of course, it's Isabelle, and of course, she had someone take intimate photos of us.

Me: What do you want, Isabelle? You already have a fake relationship.

Isabelle: Nothing, dear husband.

She goes offline, so I turn my phone off and stare at the ceiling.

In 2 days, I'll be a married man with a con artist as my wife. In four, I'll return to work with my captivating assistant and a ring on my finger. The news should already be spreading, and I'll be under media surveillance 24/7.

1 whole year of marriage with this devil woman who will be my wife in 48 hours. Easy peasy, right?

I sigh and toss my phone around, slowly falling asleep.

...

Today is the day!

The day I wish I could bring my mother back from the dead and clarify this has-to-be mix-up. I stormed into the building, seeing my father, Mr. and Mrs. Smith, the priest, but no Isabelle. "Is she almost here?" I ask, walking towards the small group of people.

"No, but she should be done getting dressed by now," her mother says. "What do you mean by that? She should be here by now or on her way." I don't have time for this. "Yes, son, but you know, my beautiful daughter needs extra touches to look perfect for this important day." I huff, taking a seat away from them.

What's Monique even doing right now? I should've texted her this morning. Will I really be able to ignore everything she makes me feel after today? I will; I'm her boss with a wife over the span of one week.

Of course, what I'm feeling will change once my morals kick in. The pain I'm feeling as I think about it now is only temporary; it'll pass.

What if it doesn't?

That one question keeps ringing in my head over and over, along with my heart's pace rising.

Engines rev up outside, and that's my cue to get up and take a position at the altar. Mr. Smith goes outside, and when they're ready, David and Isabelle come inside with two men carrying her train down the aisle and another man videoing the whole thing until her hands are placed into mine. They really went all out.

"Smile for the camera," my father says, but I don't change my expression. Maybe tweak it enough to not look as unhappy and miserable as I really feel right now.

The papers are given to us, and we sign them.

• 1-year prenup agreement

• No mandatory romance requirements, except for the blackmail.

I sigh and back up, then we take back our positions at the altar, exchanging rings and pretending to kiss. I just lean enough, and the photographer uses the right angle.

"I'm Mrs. McIntyre!!!"

Let the real ride begin.

Monique

This is the first day Ryan has ever been late, and I'm early, so he can be proud of me for once, which is quite surprising.

Should I be concerned or happy that I finally beat him at something he's always reprimanding me for? I shake my head and rearrange his office desk for the third time until the door opens.

"Mr. McIntyre, glad you could make it," I tease formally, earning a glare from him as he closes the door with his non-pocketed hand. He's so fine.

"Traffic was really terrible," was it? I didn't see any on my way here.

I don't pry; I just nod and let him settle into his seat. "Mrs. Williams should be here in a few." "Good, get me a cup of water and some painkillers." "Painkillers?" I ask, pouring his water. "A very awful headache," I nod, finding some painkillers.

"Ms. Moore, your button is undone." I look down and see my breasts exposed at the top of my bra. "Oh my god, sir, I'm so sorry." I panic, quickly fixing the open buttons on my blouse. When I turn around, my cheeks are hot, maybe even red too, and my heart is racing, seeing Ryan grip his mouse tightly, glaring at me.

He doesn't say anything except call me with his fingers, but before I can go more than halfway, the receptionist says, "Mrs. Williams is on her way up."

"Let's go to the meeting room," I suggest, and I am the first person out the door.

Thank you, Mrs. Williams.