Possessive Fake Husband

It was the first night we met at that industry party. When we ambushed her with our plan, I thought she was going to storm out of the room in anger. I figured that’s what any sane, normal woman would do in that situation.

But she didn’t. She stayed and listened. She was appalled, but of course she was.

And then she got something out of the deal.

That’s when I knew I wanted her. That’s when I knew I had to have her.

Shit, she was smart enough to negotiate. If she was smart enough to get something out of that deal in the middle of an emotional ambush, I have to wonder what else she’s capable of.

That’s the kind of woman I want by my side.

“You may kiss the bride.”

I blink a little, surprised out of my reverie. Maggie tilts her head and I step forward. I press my lips against hers, kissing her for the second time in my life, then turn to the small crowd. They cheer and I grin at them as the photographer I hired takes multiple pictures of me and my new bride.

She takes my arm and we walk back down the aisle together as the photographer goes nuts. Her father gives me a nod, a smile plastered on his face. He’s the only other person in this world that knows what we just did.

Everyone else is clueless. Even my mother. She beams at me, although just a couple days ago, she was talking about how I was moving much too fast.

She wasn’t wrong.

“Did that really just happen?” Maggie whispers.

I shrug. “I think so.”

“Shit.” She grabs my arm tighter. “We’re really married. We’re really doing this.”

“Keep your eyes on the prize, Maggie,” I say.

She glances at me. “Right. My cut.”

I nod once and smile at her as we step out of the chapel and into the sunshine.

Her father wasn’t excited about that prospect. He fought me on it at first, which was surprising. I mean, she’s his daughter. But then he explained his plan to give Maggie his entire cut when he retired, and that made more sense.

One day, she might own more of the company than I do, which might be interesting.

Still, I’ll keep my word. She wants a cut, she’ll get a cut.

We step out onto the front steps. The photographer starts taking more pictures as my mother and her father come out next. They get in the pictures with us, smiling for the camera. Her brother comes next, followed by her aunt and uncle, the notorious Lofthouses. We take one big happy family photo before the group disperses.

“Now what?” Maggie asks.

“Now nothing,” I say. “We’re married.”

“I know, but aren’t we having a reception?”

I shake my head. “Nope. Just a small, intimate ceremony. Like you wanted.”

“Right.” She frowns. “Yeah. Of course.” She walks over to talk to her dad. He gives her a hug and I linger there for a moment.

“Well, honey, you got married.” My mother stands next to me. I put an arm around her.

“I sure did.”

“She seems nice. Your father would die a second time if he could.”

“I bet.” I laugh. “Marrying his rival’s daughter.”

“What are you thinking, honey?”

I frown. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, it’s sudden. Were you two even dating before this?”

I arch an eyebrow. I know my mother’s smart, but I didn’t expect her to pick up on this. “We’ve been seeing each other in secret for a while,” I say. “Secret for obvious reasons.”

“Right.” She sighs. “I just don’t want this to complicate things at the business.”

“It won’t. If anything, it’ll make my life easier.”

She frowns and shakes her head. “Well, so long as you’re happy. She seems like a nice girl.”

“She is, Mom.”

She gives me a hug then moves off. Sylvia and Edward Lofthouse come over, shake my hand, say their congratulations, and then head off. I watch them go as Maggie comes back over.

“Did you talk to my aunt and uncle?” she asked.

I nod. “I’m wondering why they were here.”

“They’re important,” she says. “I couldn’t ignore them.”

“I don’t know. They’re not a part of this.”

“They’re the Lofthouses. They come to everything. I mean, Sylvia Lofthouse, she’s…” Maggie trails off.

“I’ve heard stories. She seems normal.” I frown and shrug. “Doesn’t matter. We got what we needed.”

“Which was?”

“Pictures. And a marriage license.”

She shakes her head. “This is crazy.”

“I know.”

“What now?”

“Now we should go back to my place and get you settled.”

“Your place?” She cocks her head. “Let’s live at my place.”

“Right, okay. Where’s your townhouse again?”

She hesitates. “I don’t own one.”

“Ah, okay. So let’s go live with your dad instead of my house then.”

“I don’t—” She stops herself. “Okay, I live with my dad,” she admits.

I grin at her. “Come on. You’ll love it.”

“Separate rooms,” she says.

“Fine. For now.”

She rolls her eyes. “It’s not going to be like that,” she says.