Page 3 of Impending Consent

“We’ll talk later, Sail. Read the prenup and do not follow me out of that fucking door.”

A flash of anger traveled down my spine when he left my apartment and attempted to shut the door. My hand caught the edge just in time and when my foot met the tile outside my apartment, his hands were on me and I was lifted into the air.

The stack of papers left my hand and scattered to the floor. Rival had me locked around the waist by one arm and carried me to the sofa where I was not so gently deposited. Before I could move, he lowered his tall body, hovering over me, a scowl in place.

“Look, I get that you’re used to doing what the fuck you want and talking to people anyway you want, but as your husband, that shit wont fly with me, Sailor. The only man who owns the privilege of seeing you like this is me. I know a lot of what I’m saying at the moment isn’t registering, but you are my wife. We’re legally married. We’ll discuss the details later. Put some fucking clothes on before you leave the house or we’re going to have problems.”

His eyes leveled with mine and I opened my mouth to object but he met me with a kiss that felt far too familiar and intoxicating for me to think logically. When he pulled away, I blinked several times, trying to make sense of what the hell had just happened and then I heard the door close and the click of the door being locked.

When I could fully process again, I left the sofa, gathered the papers, and scanned them.

One year.

1456 Grand Cove Lane.

Half.

Half, shit. Half of my net worth?

I searched for the last page and sure enough there were two signatures. Sailor Addison and Rival Hassan.

I’d signed this, which makes it a legal contract.

But prenuptial didn’t mean marriage. What was I missing?

Rival’s words sounded in my mind.Check your email.

I hurried back to my room, grabbed a robe from the chair in the corner, and shoved my arms through the sleeves while I reached for my phone and quickly navigated to my email app. As soon as the thread was open, the third email listed had me throwing a hand over my mouth as I dropped to the side of my bed.

VirtualLoveLast.com

There was an email with an official copy of our marriage certificate, a video of the ceremony, and a statement that the hard copy of that certificate would be mailed within seventy-two hours.

What in the entire fuck?

I immediately called my sister.

“Hey Sail, I’m surprised you’re up?”

“Why would you be surprised that I’m up?”

“You were drunk as shit last night. Don’t you remember?”

“No, I don’t. I talked to you?”

“You sure did, called and asked if I wanted to come over and meet your new husband.”

“I said that?”

“Sure did, I talked to him too. He seemed nice enough but I’m sure he thinks you’re absolutely insane. Stick to wine, Sail. Brown liquor is not your friend. This feels like an episode of College Sailor,” my sister stated amusedly. She seemed completely unbothered by telling me I’d called and asked her tomeet my new husband. Why would she not be alarmed and talk to him like doing so was a normal occurrence?

“What did he say?”

“Who?”

“Rival.”

“Oh, not much, apparently you were hiding in the bathroom, whispering to me about getting married, which by the way is insane. You must have been shitfaced, Sail, because there’s no way you would marry anyone. Anyway, you told him to say hi to his sister-in-law and must have shoved the phone at him because he introduced himself, said you were a little tipsy and that he would make sure you got to bed okay.”

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