“This is not for me, though. It’s for Tinsley, and I know you don’t like her.”

“I never said I don’t like her.” I wish I didn’t like her. Instead, my life is pure torture wanting her every aching second of my miserable life, knowing I’ll never have her.

“You don’t have to. We both can tell what you think of her.” Sol wrinkles her nose.

At first, I think to protest, but isn’t it better that they think I can’t stand Tinsley than that I want to bone her every time I’m within sniffing distance? I know what kind of reception that would get.

“I’m back,” Tinsley calls out loudly from the door. “The nurse is on her way. By the way, Edwards fixed things so that as long as someone is there to sign in person, the clerk will give us the licenses.”

“You stay here then. I’ll get them.” I give Tinsley a brief chin nod as I leave, and she returns my gesture with a stiff, fake smile. See, she’s not fond of me either.

Despite Edwards smoothing my path, I wait at the courthouse for four damned hours and end up with two licenses. On the first one, I write down Tinsley’s name and then mine without even thinking. I don’t realize the error until I’m halfway out of the clerk’s office. I return and muscle my way to the front of the line over the protests of half the room. Since I have to get the damned paperwork before the office closed, I use my height and size to intimidate everyone. I get the stupid thing with Sol’s name and slink out, feeling shitty that I did that.

It’s dark by the time I get to Tinsley’s brownstone. The upper east side somehow doesn’t smell of garbage. There are actual trees in planters on the sidewalks, and everything looks clean and rich. I hate it.

I climb up the stairs and let the iron knocker fall against the steel door. An older woman wearing a tight expression opens the door. “Deliveries are downstairs,” she orders, pointing to the below ground entrance. Of course that’s where she thinks I should go. Did I mention how much I hate rich people?

“I’m Sol’s brother,” I say.

The older woman’s eyebrows go up, and she gives me a quick once-over. I know she doesn’t care for what she sees in my ripped jeans and black hoodie. “Come in,” she says reluctantly.

I can feel her eyes watching to see if I steal some silver or art off the walls. “Sol is in the guest suite upstairs. Please follow me.”

“No. I’m not marrying you, Grant.” Tinsley’s anxious voice carries through the thick walls. I stop and look for the source.

“Sir, please don’t go in there,” the lady calls after me as I find an ornately carved door and black iron knob.

Ignoring the woman, I push open the door and find some goon towering over Tinsley.

“Get the hell away from her,” I order, striding in and pushing Tinsley behind my back.

“Who are you?” the goon says to me. I presume he’s Grant. Over by the fireplace, a man with a clerical collar around his neck and a Bible in his hand watches with wide eyes.

“Where’s Sol?” I ask Tinsley.

“She’s upstairs. My lawyer said that since she’s had anesthesia today, she can’t sign any legal documents, and my justice of the peace said he can only marry me today. They won’t wait one day.” Tinsley’s face is anguished. She needs my help, and there’s only one solution I can think of. I pull the erroneous license out of my pocket and slap it against the goon’s chest.

“Sorry, Grant. Tinsley is marrying me.” I drag the shocked girl over to the justice of the peace. “Start right now.”

He stammers but begins, and ten minutes later, Tinsley and I are pronounced man and wife. I’ve ruined my life, but at least I kept my promise.

CHAPTER 6

TINSLEY

“You may kiss the bride,” the justice of the peace announces. My stomach drops. I shake my head, stepping back. No way is my first kiss going to be with someone who doesn’t even like me.

My parents aren’t going to ruin or take that from me. I’ve always told myself that I would never have a marriage like my parents. That I would marry for love and only once. My dad went through a few wives before he settled on my mom. I think he only stuck with her because he knocked her up. They liked each other well enough, but there were never any sparks or passion between them. They were more like friends who lived together and raised me. I don’t want a loveless marriage.

“Where do we sign?” I ask George, knowing he wants to head home. I take the crumpled paperwork from off the table. I’m grateful that he was even able to do this for me today. I know this was literally the only time he had to offer. His wife hasn’t been feeling well, and he wants to get home to her.

Tags: Ella Goode Erotic
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