“A sexless arranged marriage with a dreamy billionaire for a year in exchange for two hundred million dollars that will save your family’s hotel, which will revert back to yourownership once you sign the divorce papers.” Keira sums up my preposterous life.
“This isn’t the picture-perfect wedding I envisioned for my first time walking down the aisle.”
“How many people walk down the aisle for the wrong reasons?”
“Good point.”
“At least you know three hundred sixty-five days from your big day, your husband won’t try to screw you over. How many women get shortchanged during their divorce? You’re walking into this with your eyes wide open and a nice little contract tucked neatly under your arm like a boss lady.”
I’m tempted to laugh, but I’m reminded of my precarious situation.
“Speaking of which, I need a California lawyer,” I say.
“Rhys can hook you up.”
“Daddy asked me not to spend any money on the corporate business card because we’re maxed. Since working with Thana, aka returning to the toxic environment I fled, was out of the question and I hadn’t gotten around to calling the art buyer I was working for—”This is so embarrassing.“I have no idea how I’m going to pay for the legal fees, Keira.”
“I’ll talk to my boyfriend. We’ll figure something out.”
I nod. “Thank you.”
My ringtone––a high octave pop Top 100 song––jars me out of a deep sleep.
Grumbling, I open one eye.
I’m surrounded by darkness.
My gaze lands on the clock on the nightstand.
Four a.m.?
I should’ve turned my phone off.
I curse and pull the sheet over my head, intent on ignoring whoever dared to wake me up before the roosters.
I will myself to fall back asleep when my phone rings.
Again?
Fuck.
Stop calling. I’m sleeping.
My phone rings a third time, causing me to grunt like a bear ready to attack.
This is a losing battle.
Who needs to talk to me this badly in the middle of the night?
With my face still squished into the pillow, I tap around on the nightstand until my fingers grip my phone. I bring the device right up to my face.
It’s a struggle to open both eyes. When I do, I narrow them on the screen.
I flinch.
I flip over, sit up straight in bed, and answer the call. “Daddy,” I say in a groggy voice.
Heavy breathing echoes on the other end.
