Page 5 of Never Say Yes To Your Boss

“This is Bradford Darius Anderson theSecond. My father was the first of the same name. And I’m Bradford Lion Anderson the Third.”Fuck, fuck fuck, that’s why they call him Lion. The Third. Oh my god, it’s not because his grandpa was the first.“Darius prefers his middle name, while I use my given name. Our other brothers are also named Bradford, and they go by their middle names. We all are named Bradford. Another family joke.” He chuckles, and he’s clearly enjoying himself, the bastard. “We seem to have a lot of those going around. My brother, mytwinbrother, is older than me by a mere seven minutes, but that still makes him theoldestAnderson.”

I twist so I can look up into his face. He’s still so perfect, so handsome, smiling. He’s the devil incarnate, and I didn’t see it coming. He’s so freaking proud of himself. He masterminded this wretched plan, and it all worked out for him so perfectly. He’s getting everything he wanted. Everything. And me? I’m the stupid, naïve girl he tricked into this. He’s the smart one, and I’m nothing.

Now, I remember everything. Everything he said.A wife problem… An heir problem… Six months, one million dollars, and a whirlwind romance no one saw coming. You’ll be swept away, given everything you could ever desire. And, at the end of it, a doctor will declare that you’re not capable of having children, and that will be that. An annulment and everything will be saved. You’ll be that much richer, and everyone’s problems will be solved.

The wife problem wasn’this. Not per se. I mean, he did have a wife and an heir problem because his brother’s problemswerehis problems. Bradford never said I would be marryinghim. He led me to believe I would be, and because I was stupid and trusting, I believed him and showed up here like an absolute dork.

You horrible bastard. I hope karma comes for you in the form of something really hairy and ugly and nasty.“You…you bait-and-switched me?” I sound like a total nincompoop.

“Not anything so drastic as that. It’s just that my brother is a bit of a recluse and has quite the undeserved scary reputation. If I had told you I needed a favor for him, that you’d be marrying a total stranger whom you’d never met before, and he was going to spirit you away to his corner of the world for the next six months, you hardly would have agreed, and I needed you to agree.”

I’m stunned. Furious. I can’t stop the garble that comes out. “I hope you choke on the next fry you eat, and it gets stuck in your throat, and a seagull comes along and tries to give you mouth-to-mouth. You’re a bastard!”

“And you’re a smart woman.” He just keeps smirking at me because he knows I’m powerless. I can’t walk out of here now. Not with their money already in my account. Something tells me I can’t just send it back, tear up the marriage paper, and call the whole thing off now. “I know all about your father’s debts and your family’s situation. I also know about your sister’s illness. I knew how desperate you were, and that’s why I chose you. I’m so sorry to have to deceive you, but honestly, my grandmother would be proud. I did tell you how she loved a good thriller and mystery as well as any romance, didn’t I?”

“You’re a heinous ass!” I try and stomp on his foot again and miss. Then, I try for the elbow and miss, too. Next, I try to tear the rings off my finger, but they’re just a fraction too small, and I’m soaked in sweat, my skin is overheated, and they’re stuckon like fucking glue. I can’t believe I saw this bastard as a white knight and that I ever fantasized about him saving me. I also can’t believe I thought all week about this crap. About maybe getting a happy ending and being so stupidly naïve and hopeful. “I hope your tiny little weenus rots and falls off, and the next freaking latte your new secretary gets you has spit in it!”

Bradford sighs like I’m boring him by taking up too much of his evening. “Curses? That’s no way to start a marriage off.”

Oh my god, earlier, did he say his brother was going to take me away somewhere? He did! Shit, he did say that. To his corner of the world. Where the bloody fuck would that be?“I’m not going with him! I’m not going to let this happen!”

“You married me off to a spitfire,” Bradford Darius Anderson the Second’s voice is deep and dark and as rich as he must be. But despite that, he sounds thoroughly unimpressed. Pissed off, actually. And a tad confused, maybe? Like he wasn’t fully in on this plan either.

I’m barely able to look at him because I can’t make my eyes focus. The world is spinning strangely, and acid is burning through my chest. I feel like I’m going to faint, but no, I absolutely can’t faint. I can’t pass out because then god knows what would happen to me. It’s the fear. I try to swallow it back so it can’t make me stupid. Or stupider. Stupider than I’ve already been. My legs are going to give out because I can’t feel my ass anymore. I should have trusted my instincts. Should have trusted my numb bum.Why didn’t I run when I still could?

“I’m very sorry about all this,” Bradford the Third, I mean Ass, croons, and I can tell he’s not one bit sorry. The world has no idea what a piece of shit this guy really is. I had no idea myself. But I’m going to tell everyone. Everyone is going to find out about this—about the scheming and the lying and the trickery. I’ll go straight to every magazine, newspaper, and online publication. They can have it for free. The world needs toknow that this man isn’t who they think he is. He’s a predator who traps—

A strong set of hands grab me from behind, grasping my shoulders and face and maneuvering me away from Bradford, and honestly, I’m not that sorry to go, but I am terrified. I don’t even get to turn my head around again to see who has me, but it’s not Bradford Darius Anderson the Second because his black eyes are the last thing my gaze lands on before everything goes dark.

Chapter three

Darius

The last thing I wanted was to drug her, but I guess Hans could see she wasn’t going to go quietly, and he got a little trigger-happy.

I had plans for a gag and a good set of zip ties. After all, she didn’t look like she weighed much. Easy to carry out into the night and the SUV waiting down the block from the church, then into my private jet. My head of security, slash bodyguard, slash kind of a friend—because when you live alone, you don’t have many friends, and the ones you do have happen half by necessity and half by accident—Hans had other ideas. I guess he wanted to basically carry two of us over his shoulder into the jet.

It is why I’m now currently sitting on the edge of the bed where my newwifeis lying, and I’m waiting for her to wake up. She’s tied at the wrists with silk ties because silk is soft and non-threatening. Her head will hurt, and she’ll feel foggy. As it is, she’ll probably scream bloody murder. But I don’t want her to try and escape and hurt herself. We need to talk first.

I swear, I’m really not one for proxy weddings, chloroform, kidnapping, and restraints. Also, my brother is a total asshole for this.

Hans gives me a look from where he’s sitting across the room in a chair that’s barely big enough to contain his brute presence. The guy is six-five or six-six, and he has over three hundred pounds of muscle. He always reminds me of a bull about to go apeshit with delight in any shop he pleases, fine glass dishes or otherwise. With no neck, a shaved head, and tattoos galore, no one would guess that at heart, he’s a big softie who likes aged cheese, cotton candy, any and all books, soft kittens, and even the sappiest of movies.

“Whee am I? You dlugged me? Yowwwrrrr a blig flat dwickheaddddd. Let me go wight wow.”

My wife is awake.

Despite her slurred speech and unfocused eyes with the scary big pupils, Everleigh pulls violently at the restraints on her wrists and then kicks her legs out, testing the ties. She looks at me furiously but also with panic as soon as her eyes are able to lock onto something and fixate there. She’s a feral, hissing cat, spitting with rage and indignation. Not that I blame her.

“Whoa. Okay. First things first.” I’m not that far away, and I didn’t realize how threatening it might seem, so I lifted my hands in a peaceful gesture. She gets even redder in the face. “Alright, so I did take you to my house, but you’re safe here. The restraints aren’t meant to hurt you. They’re soft, and they’re just tight enough to hold you so you don’t run and get yourself into trouble or hurt yourself. You need to stay calm, and we need to talk things out.” I take a deep breath because it seems appropriate here, and I also need it. “I didn’t know what my brother was planning. He said he’d found a way out of our problems. A woman who agreed to a fake marriage for a payment of one million dollars. Then, he told me to be at thechurch at eleven thirty. I didn’t know he was going to stand in for me as a proxy or that he had tricked you. I thought you knew who you were marrying. The wire transfer came from me. I sent it ahead of time. Same for the paperwork. It wasn’t supposed to be a deception. I swear that much to you.”

Her nostrils flare, her lips twist, and she’s no doubt trying to find the words in her bone-dry mouth and heavy head to curse me out and tell me that I’m a liar and a con, that I can go straight to hell, and that she hopes my dick rots and falls off first from some strange curse. “Where were you when your brother was lying to me and marrying me and standing in for you then?”

“I was at the church,” I admit. “But I needed a bit more time. Things are…Bradford knew…he…”Fuck, well, this is going smashingly well.“What my brother did was deplorable, but it doesn’t change anything. I still need a wife, and we’re still married. You need to calm down and be rational. If you want to leave, you can, but you have to return the money, and from what my brother said, I’ve gathered that you need it. Maybe we can come to another agreement between ourselves—a legit one that has nothing to do with my brother’s treachery. Then, you’ll see that I’m not so terrible despite what people have said and what you’ve already deduced for yourself.”

“I…what do you want with me then?” Her speech is improving. It’s no longer slurred, which is a good sign.

“Beyond having you as my fake wife for six months? Nothing. You can blame this one on my grandmother.”

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