Man, he can be just so infuriating. I really don’t see why he had to keep up the pretense that it was a business meeting, when I would’ve been quite happy all along to meet his parents—as his PA, not his wife, of course, but still.

They seemed like perfectly sweet, lovely people—way more down to earth than I would have expected for super-rich billionaires.

It’s a shame that they’ll be disappointed to learn about the impending annulment. But then again, they don’t know the details of how we actually got married.

I got the impression they think Luke and I had been secretly dating for a while and he just didn’t want to tell anyone about me—not that we met, got drunk, fucked, then married, all in the same night.

I’m not sure they’d approve.

We walk back up to our rooms, not arm in arm, but close. He rambles on about this city—no doubt he senses my soured mood and is trying to fix things. I’m feeling really mixed up inside.

On one hand, he’s funny, he’s charming, and he makes me feel appreciated. He obviously wants to give us a go.

But I have to keep certain things in mind. He’s a playboy who’s used to having whatever he wants, whoever he wants, whenever he wants. He probably just sees me as a new challenge to overcome.

Remember that rotating cast of models you’ve seen on his arm. You don’t want to be just another one of those girls. You’re worth more than that.

It’s easier said than done, though.

This hotel is so gorgeous, with it’s chandeliers and its paintings and it’s staff all dressed up in tuxedos. I feel out of place, like an imposter, like someone’s going to expose me for the penniless chancer that I really am.

We arrive back up outside my room and Luke invites himself in.

Be careful. No more repeats of last night’s shenanigans, no matter how tasty he looks.

“You don’t mind if I come in, do you?” he asks as he enters, not waiting for an answer.

“No, sure, be my guest,” I say sarcastically, following him in.

“It’s just that it’s been such a great night, and it’s not late. It’d be a shame to let it end so soon.” And then, obviously catching something in my expression or my body language, he continues, “Don’t worry, I’m not going to try anything, if that’s what you’re worried about. Cross my heart and hope to die. I’ll be the perfect gentleman.”

He looks so sincere I almost believe him. Almost.

Luke helps himself to a bottle from the little fridge filled with overpriced things and pours some wine for himself, but I refuse again and just stick to soda water.

“Still no alcohol? Damn, that night in Vegas really did a number on you, huh?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” I say drily.

“They really like you.” Luke sits his cute butt down and takes a sip of the wine. “I can tell. Most of the time they hate my girlfriends, so good job there.”

My face twists in a grimace as I perch on a chair, deliberately avoiding the bed because I don’t want to send the wrong message, no matter how subtle.

“I’m just your PA, Luke, remember? And I liked them too, they seem like a sweet couple. But . . . well, I can’t let your parent’s feelings influence my decision. I’m sorry, I really am, but it’s just how it needs to be.”

I brace myself, preparing for him to press me about the annulment, but he just shrugs. “It’s your decision, of course. They’ll get over it, I’m sure.”

He leans forward in his chair and looks into my eyes, and I feel a little shiver go through me. Why does he have to be attractive? It makes this all so much more difficult.

“But what about your family?” he asks. “I’ve never heard you talk about them.”

“Ah, well, that’s because as a rule, I generally don’t.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Well, if you want to make an exception tonight, I’d love to hear all about them.”

I hesitate. Do I really want to do this? “Well . . . I don’t have any real relationship with my parents these days. I haven’t done for many years now. It’s a . . . difficult topic.”

He’s stopped all the wisecracks and the jokes now, his face serious. “I understand. Take your time.”

I’ll admit I’m surprised by him, once again. There’s more maturity behind that college-jock exterior than he lets on.

Then, I find the words just tumbling out of my mouth in a cathartic rush.

“My parents were what you could probably call textbook narcissists. I was their only kid—a complete accident. They told me that from a young age. It was always clear to me that I was going to have to look after myself, because they certainly never had enough time for me.”

I take a sip of water, pausing to contemplate.

“One of my earliest memories is from when I was maybe five or six. I’d been playing in the garden, fallen down and bruised my knee. It wasn’t serious or anything, but it hurt really bad. I went running into the house, crying my head off. My Dad told me to find Mom, she told me to stick a Band-Aid on it and stop whining.

“And that was just kind of . . . how it was. I wasn’t wanted.” I bite my lip, trying not to cry. “I just made their lives more difficult, and I always just fended for myself. As soon as I was old enough to, I moved out. They barely even said goodbye. I didn’t deliberately break off all contact, they just never really cared enough to even call and check how I was doing.”

A horrified look flashes in his face, although he quickly hides it. I can’t say I’m surprised. I’ve gotten that reaction before.

That’s why I try and avoid talking about my family if at all possible. They haven’t ever really been a part of my life, and I prefer it that way.

“So you don’t ever see them at all?” Luke asks, trying to sound casual even though I can hear sympathy at the edge of his voice. “Like, not even at Christmas and Thanksgiving?”

“Nope,” I reply. “They started calling me up again a few years back. For a while, I was pleased. I thought that they might have finally realized how horrible they were all those years, and maybe they wanted to make it right.

“But nope. They’d lost all their money in some stupid investor scam, and they were trying to get me to help them out. Guilt tripping. ‘But we’re your parents,’ they said. The whole nine yards.

“I hung up that call, changed my number, and told myself that I’d never talk to them again. Life’s too short, you know?”

My voice wavers on the last line a little, and I feel hot tears rising to my eyes. Damn it. I didn’t want to cry.

Luke, to his credit, offers me a tissue and stays quiet.

“It’s funny,” I say, dabbing my eyes. “I had this whole future planned out and it was so banal. Nothing wild or ambitious or crazy.

“I just wanted to marry an accountant or something, and we’d have our 2.4 children and live in the suburbs. Maybe we’d have a picket fence and he’d play golf on the weekend. I’d potter around in the garden.

“Isn’t that weird? But I had such a dysfunctional childhood, that I just wanted to somehow make that right. Make up for what I never had.”

I glance at him, biting back the story about my first marriage to a mobster. I’ve shown enough crazy for one night.

“I guess it sort of didn’t work out like that though, huh?” I sigh. “Seeing as I ended up getting a shotgun wedding to a billionaire a few hours after meeting him.”

“Well,” he starts, another of those mischievous glints enters his eyes, “it’s not too late for me to retrain, you know? I could be a certified accountant in a year or two, and I’m sure at least one of my companies could find me a place in the accounts department.

“I could stop going to the gym, start drinking more beer, build up that Dad bod. I’m sure my budget can extend to a modest house in the suburbs, and I’ll trade in the Porsche for something more modest like a Honda. Plenty of space for the hypothetical dog we’ll need in there.”

I laugh despite the dampness in the corners of my eyes. Luke cracks me up, and once again I marvel at just how much I like him, being around him and spending time with him.

This is dangerous. I can’t get too close, or it’s only going to make it more difficult to do what needs to be done when the time comes.

It’s only a week or so now until I’ll have been resident in Colorado long enough to start the annulment process. And despite this trip, and the revelations about Luke, I’m still one-hundred percent certain that it’s what I need to do.