Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 63862 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63862 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
“What you are suggesting is illegal.”
“What should be illegal is allowing an extremely intoxicated woman to get married. That certainly seems like something she shouldn’t legally be able to consent to. For God’s sake, if I was too drunk to legally consent to consummating this marriage, then I definitely couldn’t consent to entering into it.”
“I assure you, everything was done legally. As you can see, we have photo and video proof that you were quite willing, one might even say overjoyed, to be married. Once the ceremony is performed, we are legally obligated to submit the paperwork.”
Hope deflated in my chest.
They probably dealt with hysterical and enraged people every day. People who were drunk when they said Yes too.
He wasn’t going to be swayed by my emotions.
And the money didn’t seem even the least bit tempting either.
My jaw quivered, and I had to fight to blink back the tears that flooded my eyes.
“Look, Mrs. Valentine, there are plenty of people who regret this decision. Luckily, this city is full of attorneys who can… make it all go away.”
“Not without a trace,” I snapped, swiping my chips back into my bag and storming out of the room before I cried in front of the bastard.
“Can I get a copy of these?” a newly familiar voice said as I moved out of the office.
Then there he was.
Harrison.
Casually leaning over the reception desk, looking at something on her computer.
Our wedding images and video, no doubt.
“You bastard,” I snapped, storming over toward him.
“My lovely wife—” he started as he straightened.
I shoved my hands into his chest, making him go back a step, his brows raising.
“How much did you pay him?” I snapped.
“Pay who?” he asked, brows pinching.
“Him.. them!” I said, flinging an arm back toward Johnny and the woman. “How much did it take?”
“For the wedding?”
“To make it so they wouldn’t make this go away.”
“As I was just telling the lovely Mrs. Valentine, no matter the enticement, once the ceremony is completed, we must file the paperwork.”
“Enticement,” Harrison repeated, gaze only for me.
“Is this what you do?” I asked, too hungover, too frustrated, too emotional for this conversation. My voice was getting high, pinched. “You’re so rich that the whole world is boring, so you get your rocks off by forcing women into—”
My voice caught.
Tears pricked.
There was no more fighting this.
I had to get away.
Get myself back together.
I turned to storm off.
But Harrison’s hand reached for me, wrapping gently around my wrist.
“Layna…”
There was that soft voice again.
I couldn’t stand it.
I yanked my hand free and stormed outside.
I pressed the sunglasses on my face so no one could see I was fighting off tears.
Then I turned back in the direction of the lawyer’s office.
One way or another, this was going to be done by the end of the day.
Then, well, then life could go back to normal.
CHAPTER SIX
The inside of the lawyer’s office was meat-locker cold, with a modern black and white decor, and a fancy little coffee bar that I made a beeline for after talking to the pretty blonde receptionist.
Everything about the space said ‘expensive,’ and that was exactly what I wanted.
Because an expensive attorney knew how to get shit done and fast.
I took my caramel iced coffee to a seat and stared blankly at the TV on the wall for half an hour before I was called back into the office.
Carl Center was kind of what you’d expect from a successful Vegas strip lawyer who specializes in quick fixes to whoopsie marriages. He was tall with slicked-back dark brown hair with a little pepper at the temples, brown eyes, and a suit that was expensive but not tailored.
The cufflinks?
Loud.
The watch?
Expensive.
And he had two shirt buttons undone and a small bit of chest hair on display.
“Miss… or is it Mrs. now?”
I couldn’t help the growl that escaped me as I took his offered hand.
“I know that sound well,” he said, unfazed.
“I guess it’s Mrs. Valentine. I honestly have no idea what the paperwork said,” I admitted, ripping off my sunglasses and dropping into one of the barrel chairs.
“Rough night, huh?” he asked, taking in my face that likely looked even worse than before thanks to the stupid tears.
“One would assume, yes.”
“So,” Carl said, grabbing a notepad. “You were drunk.”
“The epic hangover I had suggests so, yes.”
“Do you remember drinking? Drugging?”
“I remember tequila. The first one. After that is mostly a blur. I get flashes.”
“Have you had a drug test?”
“A drug test?”
“Not remembering the night before…” he trailed off, flicking his wrist like the idea of being drugged was no big deal, just commonplace stuff.
“I don’t think I was drugged.”
“You sure?”
“I was drugged at a club once when I was younger. This doesn’t feel like that. And, for all of the faults I’m sure he has, I don’t think Harrison drugged me.”
“Men can be masters of disguise when it comes to their ugly nature.”