His voice stays neutral. "Yes. You'll plan it with my mother. It'll make her happy. I'm sure all my sisters will stick their noses in as well."

I fret, "You didn't tell me your family would be present."

His tone turns to annoyance. "You didn't think I was going to marry you without my family there, did you? By the way, which of your family members do you want me to fly in?"

My heart squeezes so tight it becomes hard to breathe. I take a minute to answer. "I don't have any family members I want there."

He sternly claims, "Georgia, my parents will think it's odd if your family's not there. They need to be there."

I squeeze my eyes shut and try to keep emotion out of my voice, but I can't. It shakes as I admit, "Sebastian, I don't have any living relatives."

Silence fills the line. He finally clears his throat and asks, "What are you talking about?"

"Don't make me repeat it," I beg.

To my surprise, Sebastian doesn't push it. He finally states, "Okay. It'll just be my family, then. Well, that and probably the whole freaking town."

"The town?" I blurt out.

"Chill. They don't matter," he orders, but it doesn't calm my nerves. He adds, "I'll send over the new revisions as soon as I get them. Make sure you reply to my messages."

"Okay."

"I'll see you at noon tomorrow. Be ready to leave after we sign," he directs and hangs up.

I stare at my phone with my stomach diving.

What am I getting myself into?

Eight

SEBASTIAN

I pull up to Georgia's apartment complex and cringe. It's in a run-down part of town, and the paint on the building peels away from the concrete wall.

I lock my vehicle, remove a suitcase and matching overnight bag from the bed of my truck, and carry them up the steps. Annoyance fills me when I reach for the doorknob. It's not locked. Anyone can walk right in.

She'd be a prime target for all sorts of crimes just by walking to her car.

After she gets my money, she can move.

She's not getting that million dollars. She's only getting a hundred thousand. She'll use it for her bakery and stay here.

I make a mental note to gift her a five-year free lease at one of my condos near the office as a parting gift once the annulment is signed.

That'll soften the blow when she doesn't get the million dollars.

The old elevator creaks as it makes its way to the ground level. I step inside and wonder when it got serviced last. The entire lift shakes on its way to the fifth floor, then comes to a jolting stop.

I shake off my irritation and step off the death trap, strolling down the hallway that's just as outdated as the front of the building. When I get to Georgia's unit, I knock.