Standing at the end of the aisle is my handsome stranger, eyes fixed on me, smirking.
CHAPTER TWO
OWEN
As a highly accomplished entrepreneur/businessman, my expertise in strategy is unmatched, honed through years of navigating the complex world of commerce. I am the mastermind behind lucrative deals, orchestrating mergers and acquisitions that redefine entire industries and reshape markets.
Through years of intense negotiations and interactions, my intuition has become finely tuned, allowing me to distinguish lies from truth.
In other words, I can recognize bullshit.
And the woman standing in front of me is not my fiancée.
When Mr. Hart only agreed to allow me to invest in his family business if I was actually family, I thought he was joking.
He wasn’t.
When marriage to one of his daughters was offered, it turned out to be a blessing in disguise. When my father died and his company passed to me, every gold digger came my way, including my own stepmother.
An arranged marriage, to a woman I had no romantic interest in, would solve that issue.
Before my father’s death, he shared his plan to renovate an old beach resort into a hip retreat for a younger market. Marriage to Eloise made sense because she had influence with eighteen-to-thirty-year-olds through her social media network.
But instead of my agreed-upon bride, her twin sister, Charlotte, is standing in her place looking like she’s about to faint or throw up.
What the hell is going on?
I should be annoyed, but it takes balls to try and dupe the man controlling their father’s financial future, and no matter how uncomfortable Charlotte is, she’s committed.
“Do you, Owen, take Eloise to be your wife?”
I think the more pressing question is, do I call out Charlotte and ask what’s going on now or after I’ve fucked her? Because I’ve seen pictures of Eloise, and the images did nothing for me.
But seeing Charlotte in that dress with those curves made my dick throb.
If my reaction didn’t confirm that this woman isn’t the one whose name is on the marriage contract, then the scar below her left ear did.
Did the Hart sisters really not consider that I’d do a thorough background check before entering into an agreement?
“Owen?” The priest nudges.
Charlotte’s eyes widen in panic.
My money is on her throwing up. “I, Owen, take… this woman to be my wife.”
The priest doesn’t call me out on the change.
“Do you, Eloise, take this man to be your husband?”
Color drains from her face even more.
OK, maybe fainting.
My muscles flex, anticipating playing hero and catching her before she falls.
“I…” She swallows and wets her lips. “I take Owen to be my husband.”
Nice deflection.
