“That’s going to take time. Until I can find a precedent or a chink in the armor of your father’s will, I’m afraid you’re just going to have to make the best of this situation.”

“That’s easy for you to say. Your home’s not been invaded by strangers.”

“I honestly doubt they’re going to be in your way, Addison. Because of his health, Robert will most likely spend most of his time upstairs, and by what I’ve been told, Joanna stays with him. If anything, you’ll most likely only see them at meals.”

“Great,” Addison said, pinching the bridge of her nose. “There goes my appetite.”

“They aren’t bad people,” Fran said, leaning forward in her chair. “They really aren’t.”

“I don’t care if they’re bad, good, or somewhere in between. I don’t want them here!”

“Well, that’s too bloody bad because as of this morning, you’re married to one of them!” Fran said, getting to her feet. “Joanna’s your wife now, Addison, and she’ll remain your wife until we can break the will, so please stop bitching. It’s getting boring.”

For a moment, Addison stared back at Fran, before finally letting out a sigh. “Fine, but your priority is to get me out of this.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

“Where do I start?” Addison said, her expression showing not one ounce of humor.

“You can start by telling me where your ring is.”

Meeting Fran’s stern look with one of her own, Addison said, “It was under a chair, but now it’s in my desk.”

“You need to put it on.”

“In your dreams.”

“Addison, it’s all about appearances, so please don’t argue.”

“I don’t like it.”

“You picked it out.”

“It doesn’t feel right.”

“Well then get it sized!” Fran snapped as she walked around the desk. Yanking open the drawer, she grabbed the ring and slammed it on the desk blotter. “Now put the bloody thing on and stop pouting.”

Incensed, Addison shot Fran a murderous look. “Do you have any idea how much I hate it when you tell me what to do?”

“Well, then you’re about to get really, really angry.”

“What exactly is that supposed to mean?” Addison said as she jammed the ring back on her finger.

“You’re not going to work today. Actually, you won’t be there all week.”

“Are you off your trolley? Of course, I’m going to work.”

“Afraid not,” Fran said, her eyes creasing at the corners. “Did I forget to mention you’re on your honeymoon?”

Seconds later, Francesca Neary was running for her life.

Chapter Fifteen