Page 9 of Secret Husband
“You have to fucking prepare. Go to the marriage license bureau.” Had I ever used the phrase “marriage license bureau” in my life? It sounded weird and absurdly old-timey on my lips. “Blood tests. Shit like that.”
“Not for this. We signed something, then we put on our wigs and said ‘I do.’”
No, no, no. I thought of that engagement ring, sitting in a drawer. The ring I wanted from the man I wanted. “I have a boyfriend.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. Interesting. This was news to him, which meant I still retained some power in whatever game we were playing.
“My unfaithful little milaya. He would not like this, I think.”
“No, he wouldn’t. And you know something? Neither do I. I asked you the morning after if we did anything stupid. You said it was just a joke gathering of Elvises and Marilyns. And now you’re telling me I’ve been married to you for what, nine months?”
Enough to gestate a big old explosive device, now detonating the life I was trying to build.
“I only recently discovered it myself. I have done the research, and it is a real thing. I tried to call you, but you blocked me.”
As if this was my fault for not responding.
Never mind that. Thad would feel so betrayed, and who could blame him? Sure, I hadn’t met him before this disaster-piece. This was a pre-Thad mistake. But things were moving along nicely. My toothbrush. That ring …
“We need an annulment. Or a divorce. Have you researched that?”
“I have asked the lawyer. It will take a few weeks, maybe a couple of months. And then it will be as if it never happened.”
Thank God. I wasn’t a flighty person. Given my family history, I obeyed the rules, mostly, and didn’t make mistakes. I had too much on the line, and finally a chance at happiness with a decent, normal guy.
But Alexei … why did it have to be him? Why couldn’t it have been a stranger who lit my fire and made me think of all that was possible? Once upon a time, I might have rejoiced at this news. But now? Not a chance.
That morning in Vegas, he had skulked away like a thief, then texted me that kiss-off. Clearly, he had regretted running into me in Vegas, but was it because he knew more than he was letting on? Was that sneaky exit merely punctuating a moment of “hell, I’m married” panic?
“Did you know this happened? That night? Or the next morning?”
“No. The certificate was in my jacket, and I didn’t look at it until I was packing up in Seattle.”
The document was somewhat crumpled, so he could have been telling the truth. But he’d always had an amazing poker face. Not that it mattered. If this was real—and you bet I would be doing my own research—then it could be dealt with in a real fashion. Before anyone found out. Before Thad asked me to marry him …
Because I couldn’t go into an engagement with the Russian on my back.
“I’ll need a copy of that. And you’ll be hearing from my lawyer soon.”
He pushed off from the windowsill and came to sit on my desk. “Or we could try something else.”
“Such as?”
“We could give this marriage a shot.”
Chapter Three
Alexei
* * *
I expected resistance.
This was Lauren Yates we were talking about. The woman who insisted on playing the finals of the Frozen Four with a sprained ankle. Who punched a guy and broke his nose because he insulted a friend. Who iced me out for years because of how much I hurt her.
Stubborn as hell, there was no way she would cave. I was going to have to fight dirty. I was used to that, just not when it mattered this much.
She snorted. Because it likely didn’t produce the incredulity she was going for, she added a mirthless laugh. As she re-read the certificate from top to bottom, I took the time to study her. She hadn’t changed much in nine months, or even fifteen years. Dark, wavy hair, cherry-hued lips, a determined set to her chin, those silver-gray eyes bright and curious. What had changed was how put together she looked in her green tailored suit. But there was still the nod to her athletic origins with her white sneakers.
