When she doesn't answer me back, I start to get antsy. I pace the office, shooting one message off after another and staring at her empty desk. I try calling but it goes into her voicemail, which only makes my dick hurt again. Then I text some more messages. I'm sure it's a bit overboard, but her lack of response makes me think she's getting cold feet. And the longer it goes on, the more my worries take hold.

I remind myself that I always get what I want.

Georgia Peach isn't going to be the exception. I'll get her to sign this and become my wife. And it's only a matter of time before I have her in all ways.

Seven

GEORGIA

My half-packed suitcase lies open on my bed. I keep adding things and taking them out.

What do you take for a month at someone's house when you don't even know the people whose place it is?

I barely know Sebastian.

I'm marrying a guy I barely know.

What is wrong with me? I shouldn't be doing this.

More guilt fills me, and my feet grow colder.

I'll always have to tell any future guys I date that I've been married before.

What will I tell them? The truth?

That's going to showcase the good parts about me.

I'm sure Sebastian will have a confidentiality clause in the prenup. Does that mean I'll have to lie for the rest of my life?

It'll be annulled.

It'll still be on record that I was married.

I need to get out of this.

My phone rings, and I glance at the screen, then answer, "Hey, Melanie. How are you feeling?"

"Much better today. No one's puked in the last twelve hours!" she chirps.

I wince and hold my stomach. The mere thought of vomit makes me want to gag. I reply, "That's good."

She continues, "I thought we could reschedule Thanksgiving for next Saturday. It gives us a week to completely heal, and we can still celebrate the holiday?"

"That sounds—" My mouth turns dry. What am I going to tell her?

"What's wrong?" she questions.

"I won't be in town until after New Year's," I blurt out.

"Why? Where are you going?" she asks.

I take a minute, then state, "Sebastian has work he has to do at his family's ranch, so I'll be staying there."

Silence fills the line. She finally clears her throat and inquires, "Sebastian?"

"My boss."

"Yes. It's the first time I haven't heard you call him Mr. Cartwright," she points out.

My face heats. I quickly lie, "He told me not to."

She digs further, pushing, "Why the sudden change?"

My heart races faster. Melanie is my only friend in Dallas. I've never lied to her. Yet, I'm unprepared. I didn't think about what I would tell her regarding this situation.

"Georgia?"