I do, because what choice do I have? People are watching, congratulating us, but my heart is hammering against my ribs.
"Trigger, stop." I dig my heels in as we reach the corridor. "Tell me what's happening."
"What's happening," he says quietly, his dark eyes locked on mine, "is that you're my wife now. Legally. Binding. You wanted everyone to believe we're madly in love. Well, that starts now. Tonight. No more plans and negotiations." His thumb brushes my bottom lip. "From this moment on, you're mine. In every way that matters."
"That wasn't the deal?—"
"The deal," he interrupts, his voice dropping even lower, "was that we get married and make it look real. Did you think 'real' meant we'd go back to our separate lives?"
The corridor suddenly feels too small, too dark. "Where are we going?"
"We have a plane to catch, and you have a role to play."
"I didn't agree to…"
A door slams open behind us. Voices echo down the corridor. It’s my father's, angry and commanding. Trigger's expression shifts, urgency replacing the cold calculation. "Time's up.Choose now, Asha. Come with me willingly, or I'll carry you out. Either way, you're leaving with your husband."
My husband.
The word feels like a trap closing around me. Behind me, I hear footsteps and my father's voice calling my name. But if I let my father interfere, everything falls apart. The plan. The arrangement. Every carefully constructed plan I’ve yet executed, answers I still need. This can only go one way.
"Fine." The word tastes like surrender.
Trigger's hand finds mine, and this time when he pulls me toward the exit, I don't resist. A black car waits at the curb, engine running. The door is already open.
"Get in."
I do, and Trigger slides in beside me. The door shuts with finality as the car pulls away, and I catch a glimpse of the entrance. My father bursts through the doors, his face a mask of fury, but we're already turning the corner, the taillights disappearing into the night.
Trigger's hand rests on my thigh, possessive and warm through the thin fabric of my dress.
"Relax," he says, but there's no comfort in the word. "You're exactly where you agreed to be."
CHAPTER THREE
TRIGGER
"What aren’t you telling me?" London asks as I stare at Asha sleeping across from me on the plane, her head tilted against the plane's window, her arms crossed as if she needs to keep her guard up. There's a small crease between her eyebrows, like she's fighting something even in her dreams. Probably me. "You really expect me to believe the two of you are jet-setting to enjoy a romantic honeymoon?"
"Actually, yes," I sigh. I'm not thrilled about lying to my brother, but it's not just me I have to look out for anymore. I have her. My wife. For a year. That was the deal, anyway. Three hundred and sixty-five days, then we both walk away. She finds a way to save her land, my merger goes through, and everyone gets what they want. Except, I'm not walking away. Not in a year. Not ever. "It must be in our blood or something," I add, as my eyes study every curve of her face. "We fall, and we never stop." I toss back a truth he can't argue.
I hear the anxious breath he takes, his frustration evident before he says, "So this trip?—"
"You mean honeymoon," I correct so that he starts to wrap his head around my new normal.
"No, I mean trip. Tell me which circle of hell I'm going to be dealing with when you get back."
Asha's eyes start to flutter open as she wakes up.
"I'm not sure what you mean. I'm on my honeymoon. See you when I get home." I cut the call without another word.
I turn to find Asha watching me, sleep still softening her features even as wariness sharpens her gaze.
"How long was I out?"
"Three hours. We have about five more to go."
She sits up straighter, tugging at the blanket I draped over her. "Five hours to where, exactly?"
