“Megan Dolan, you will do this! You will not be a disgrace to this family by having that baby out of wedlock.” Tears pool in my eyes as my mother screams at me again.

I made a mistake, I fell for the wrong boy. And he screwed me. Literally and figuratively. Now I’m paying the price while he backpacks across Europe before starting his fancy job.

“Put the dress on Megan or I won’t hesitate to have your forced into it.” The door slams behind the older woman as I slide down the wall, head on my knee’s.

The worst part about all of this is I’m being used. I’m not being forced to marry a man I don’t know, in name or on paper, because I’m pregnant. It’s a front for my selfish uptight parents. Dads in debt, and he’s selling me to get out of it.

I don’t know if my groom to be is young, old, fat, fit, evil, shy. Nothing. I don’t know his name, nor his profession. I know he needs a wife because he wants a legitimate heir. I doubt the poor man even knows I’m pregnant.

Which gives me a rather devious idea as I pick myself up off the floor. Grabbing the dress that shows far too much skin my mother had chosen, I wiggle my baby bump into it and smile for the first time.

If he doesn’t know I’m pregnant, he’s about to. Before the preacher gets a word in edge wise. This shame of a marriage will be over before my parents can protest otherwise.

Hearing the organ begin my new theme song, I take a fortifying breath before I start down the short aisle of the small church. The man I see is not what I was prepared for.

He’s tall, looks muscular. Dark brown hair, and matching chocolate eyes. When he reaches for me and we make contact for the first time, my body lights up in a way I’ve never felt.

For a split second, I feel regret before I burst his bubble.

I don’t’ know what the fuck I was thinking. Marrying a woman basically sold to me so I can have an heir and her parents can pay off their debts. My only excuse is I was desperate. At thirty years old I was supposed to be taking over my father’s company as CEO.

For as long as I could remember it’d always been passed down from father to son. For generations, my family has manufactured and sold defense equipment to the US Military. I was never a partier, not some spoilt playboy. I worked my ass off to get where I am and my father tells me three weeks ago I find a wife and work on making an heir or he was going to sell the company. I don’t understand what the fuck the hurry is, but he’s dead set I settle down into married life.

So here I stand, at the alter, in a tiny little church, prepared to vow my life to a woman who I don’t even know her name.

In my head, I’ve been calling her anonymous bride. If she’s anything like other women I’ve known she’d likely skin my balls for that.

My parents are sitting front and center, I see hers on the opposite side of mine, all of them look smug as fuck. I’d be lying if I hadn’t wondered what the girl looked like, if I’ll regret my rash choice to do this.

When I hear the organ start playing the wedding march, my attention is drawn to the back of the room.

Unknowingly I hold my breath as a woman barely the size of my thigh walks slowly down the aisle. Her white dress short in length, and low in the front doesn’t leave much to my imagination.

A veil covers her face, but I see her dark brown hair, with blonde highlights peeking out the sides in soft waves down her back.

As she stops in front of me, I’m dumbstruck as she lifts the veil over her head. Large green eyes meet mine, full of trepidation, mischief, and sorrow? I wonder about that last one.

It’s her lips that draw me though. A shy smile plays across the plump pink stain. Holding my hand out for her to take, he delicate fingers touch mine and a zap of electricity goes straight to my already hardening dick.

When her soft voice says, “I’m pregnant,” I’m dumbstruck by the husky quality until the words register in my brain.

Found that regret…