02

OLIVIA

At first, I had no idea where I was, which was pretty laughable given what I had done the previous day. 

The wedding dress on the floor caught my eye and brought me to attention. 

Whose dress was that? I thought. 

It no doubt did not help that my body felt like I had been run over by a truck, and my head felt like my skull had been split in two. 

It was the reason I did not drink. 

I shivered, the realization dawning on me that I was naked. 

And that wedding dress was maybe mine. 

My head snapped to the side, taking in the back view of a man. 

Please be Liam, I prayed. 

It would only make sense that I was no doubt married and he and I had gone out to celebrate, and somehow we were here. 

Seeing that I did not remember a thing at the moment, that was the only plausible explanation. 

I got to my feet, grabbing the shirt that was lying atop my wedding dress and wrapping it tightly around my figure. 

When I rounded the bed, my knees weakened. 

It was not Liam, I thought in dismay. 

The man laying there with his eyes closed looked like he had come alive from a smut novel with his taut jaw and sexy lips.

As if he had heard my thoughts, his eyes fluttered open. 

My first thought was that I must still be dreaming, and if I was, it felt so real. The second was, it was a nightmare. 

Either way, none of this was real. 

"Hello, wife," the man in my bed smiled. 

Wife? 

What the hell was he talking about? 

"What are you… how did you get here, and why am I—" 

My voice trailed off when he rolled his eyes, massaging his temple. 

"Please do not tell me you are one of those women that do not remember anything after having a couple of drinks." 

I glared at him. 

"I do not, so you had better begin explaining to me what the fuck is going on," I snapped at him. 

"You do remember asking me to marry you?" 

My heart froze. 

I waited for him to tell me he was just kidding, but he seemed very serious. 

"I asked you to marry me? Why would I do that?" 

"Something about your fiancé standing you up at the altar." 

That cannot be right. 

There was no way I would ask him to marry me, and— 

I glanced at my fingers, my eyes catching the silver ring dancing in the sunlight. 

What is this? I thought… where was my engagement ring? 

"Do you remember now?" 

"Where is my ring?" I stuttered.

His eyes flashed.

"I disposed of it. I will be damned if I allow my woman wear another man's ring on her finger"

I shook my head, suddenly unable to breathe. 

His woman

I heard him groan, roll his eyes, and point in the direction of the bedside table. 

When I reached for the paper there, my eyes blurred. 

He had not been lying. 

We were indeed married! 

The marriage certificate I was staring at, dated yesterday, proved it. 

"How did this happen? We have to do something about this before anyone finds out." 

As if on cue, I heard my phone ring. 

I reached for my wedding dress, my fingers searching the purses I had had sewn in frantically. 

I picked it up. 

It was my father. 

What did he want? 

"Hello?" I muttered. 

"Olivia!" I heard him roar. "What do you think you are fucking doing?" he asked. 

"What do you mean?" I stammered. 

"Liam contacted me. He says you did not show up to your wedding, and there was no need for me to come over. And now I see a photo of you at a courthouse with… who the hell is that?" 

I spun around to the stranger staring at me so pointedly. 

I had no idea who he was… did I even know his name? 

I had a vague memory of him saying his name, but try as I might, I could not remember it. 

"Olivia, what is going on?" 

I could not speak. 

I was hyperventilating. 

"Olivia!" my father roared. 

I watched the stranger move as quick as lightning, plucking the phone from my hand and slamming it into the wall. 

"What are you doing?!" I screamed. 

"You looked like you needed help," he supplied. 

I stared at him, pretty sure he had lost his fucking mind. 

"That was my father." 

"I gathered." 

I reached for my phone; it was no use. 

"How do we end this?" I pointed at the marriage certificate. 

"We do not." 

"This was a mistake, and there is no need for us to continue with this charade." 

"Mistake or not, we are in the news, and it is going to hurt my brand to annul this marriage so quickly." 

"Your brand?" I muttered. 

He turned to me. 

"You know, you are the first girl who did not recognize me on sight," he said. "Although when you did approach, I was sure you knew who I was, and feigning drunkenness was your feeble attempt at getting to me. But you really do not know me." 

"And I am supposed to?" I asked. 

"Enrique Garcia," he said. 

His name did sound familiar, but I could not get my head to start working because of how hungover I was. 

"You really do not know me," he chuckled. "Fascinating." 

"I need to go," I muttered, reaching to grab my dress. 

The blood rushed to my head, and I figured that was when my memory of the previous day snapped into place. 

The photo. 

My wedding. 

The club. 

His eyes. 

Everything clicked in that fraction of a second. 

I whirled around. 

Enrique Garcia. 

My father's opposition. 

The very man who wanted to buy his company right from under him. 

He must have seen the recognition hit because he smiled at me. 

"You planned this," I sputtered. 

It was the only explanation that made sense to me, even when I could vaguely recall that I had indeed proposed to him in that club last night. 

"I wish I did, Olivia, but no, it was just good ole luck that dropped you into my lap, and I plan to make use of this opportunity." 

"What do you want?" I spat. 

"The question should be, what do you want, Olivia?" 

He stared at me like he was giving me my choice, and it was time for me to scream the divorce in his face, but I did not. 

I tried to claim it was because our faces were already out there, and there was nothing we could do but continue with the charade, but that was untrue. 

I wanted to make Liam pay, and I wanted him to hurt just as much as he had hurt me for destroying everything we had. 

"A marriage," I answered. 

He seemed surprised I would choose that, seeing that moments ago, I had been screaming about annulment. 

"Love me for a year, and you are free to leave right after," I continued, taking a deep breath. 

He brushed his lower lip with his thumb as if in thought. 

"You have a deal, Olivia." He put out a hand, and I took it, allowing his vise-like fingers to wrap around my delicate ones, and then he put it to his lips, kissing my knuckles gently. 

"We need a contract for this," I sputtered, suddenly unable to draw in breath. 

He nodded, a slight smile gracing his abominably handsome features. 

One year, I reassured myself. 

Whatever could go wrong?