Page 8 of My Big Fat Vampire Wedding
“The one where you have to be married to receive it?”
“How did you know about that?” Pandora asked, throwing up a hand.
Dante furrowed his brow. “Because that’s how it has been for centuries?”
Apparently, Pandora was the only one not paying attention. In her defense, there were spicy books to read. Tensof thousands of them. It was actually one of the things she most looked forward to when it came to immortality.
“You know how they are, Pandy,” Dante said, shaking his head. “They’re not going to see reason about this.”
“They have to,” she said, a hint of panic sneaking into her voice. “I need that money.”
Dante turned away from her for a moment, staring off at the house in general.
“So, get married.”
A laugh burst out of Pandora at that. He couldn’t have been so distracted by … whatever the hell he was doing all the time that he hadn’t noticed she’d been single for, oh, ages.
“Oh, right. Just get married. To my invisible boyfriend. No big deal. Won’t be suspicious at all.”
“So, get a boyfriend.”
“Maybe it’s that easy for you, Dante, but I haven’t dated anyone in forever. There’s no reason to assume that string of bad luck is going to change in the next year, let alone three months.”
“Fake it,” Dante said, shrugging.
“Fake what? Dating?”
“Yeah. Find someone to date, then marry. Get your inheritance, then just break it off.”
Pandora thought for a moment. That wasn’t … outside the realm of possibility. Fake dating was the main plot of at least three-quarters of the romcom novels Lucy passed to Pandora once she was done with them.
But how did one realistically find someone willing to get into that sort of arrangement?
“Why would anyone ever agree to that?” Pandora asked, since Dante seemed to be full of answers.
“Pay him,” Dante said.
“I don’t have any money.”
“From yourinheritance, Pandy.” Dante rolled his eyes at her. “Get someone to agree to it. Maybe someone who needs the money. Agree to some terms. Then parade him around the family like some epic whirlwind romance. Really sell it,” he added. “You know how Mum is.”
If by “how she is” Dante meant almost alarmingly perceptive and great at sniffing out a lie, then, yes, Pandora was painfully aware. Like the time Pandora had claimed she’d gone out all night hunting prey, only to have her mother take one sniff at her and know she’d spent the night at a coffee shop sipping chamomile tea and reading a book about rival dog groomers falling in love and living happily ever after.
“Then, once everyone is convinced, plan the wedding, get married, stay married for a while, get your money, and get a divorce. Claim things just didn’t work out. You weren’t compatible after all. Very sad and all that. Then just … take your money and live your undead life.”
He made it all sound so doable. Easy, even.
And, hey, there had to be an endless pool of men who needed some extra cash just like she did.
She would have to work fast if she was going to do this.
“Dante, I think you may have just saved …” She trailed off at the sound of heels clicking across the tile floor.
Their mother was awake.
Awake and in heels within moments of climbing out of her coffin.
Ophelia Von Ashmore was nothing if not the most elegant woman in every room.
