"Yes. As my husband, you would be under my protection. My name carries significant weight."
I bet it does.
I ran a hand through my hair, trying to process this surreal conversation. "Look, I appreciate what you did for me last night—"
"We did for each other," Julian corrected, his eyes flashing with something that made my stomach flip.
"Right." I swallowed hard, memories of exactly what we'd done for each other heating my skin. "But marriage is... it's insane."
"Is it?" Julian leaned forward slightly. "Unless you'd prefer to break your word?"
Check and mate.
I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and then looked back at the man who had somehow become the center of my universe in less than twenty-four hours.
"This is completely crazy," I said finally. "But okay."
Julian nodded as if I'd just agreed to his choice of restaurant rather than a legally binding life commitment. "Excellent. I've already made the necessary arrangements."
"Of course you have," I muttered.
Two hours later, freshly showered and dressed in clothes Julian had somehow procured in exactly my size—creepy or impressive? I couldn't decide—I found myself sitting beside him in the back of a luxury SUV with tinted windows, headed to the Civil Affairs Bureau.
"How exactly did you arrange this so quickly?" I asked, fingering the soft material of the shirt I now wore—some designer brand I couldn't pronounce.
"I know people," Julian replied without elaboration. "Having money and influence expedites many processes."
Must be nice.
I stared out the window, watching the city rush by and trying to wrap my head around what was happening. Less than twenty-four hours ago, I'd been headed to what I thought was a normal family dinner. Now I was on my way to marry a man I barely knew.
"I still can't believe my mother drugged me," I said, more to myself than to Julian.
His hand unexpectedly covered mine, warm and solid. "We'll deal with that situation after we've secured your safety."
We. As if we were already a team. As if this marriage of convenience wasn't the most ridiculous solution to my problems.
Yet, I couldn't deny the little thrill that shot through me at his touch, at the quiet authority in his voice that promised protection. No one had ever wanted to protect me before.
The Civil Affairs Bureau was a nondescript government building that didn't match the magnitude of what we were about to do there.
Julian's driver helped him into his wheelchair with practiced efficiency, and I followed them inside, feeling increasingly like I was moving through someone else's life.
Inside, Julian handled everything with the same calm authority he seemed to apply to all situations. He produced paperwork I hadn't even known we needed, spoke to officials with just the right mix of cordiality and command, and generally made the process seem as routine as registering for a library card.
"Date of birth?" Julian asked, pen poised over a form.
"March 15th," I replied automatically. "1998."
That made Julian pause, his pen hovering. "You're twenty-six."
"Last time I checked, yeah."
"I'm forty-one," he said, as if just realizing the age gap.
"Good math," I quipped, then immediately wished I could take it back when his expression remained serious. "Look, if that's a problem—"
"It's not," he said, returning to the form. "Just an observation."
