With everyone around me acting like it was normal to celebrate a forced engagement with an impromptu Friday night BBQ, I was beginning to wonder if I’d somehow stepped into an alternate reality, like Alice falling through the looking glass. None of this could be real.

Except it was. I’d pinched myself enough times to know that I was awake and present. Still, I struggled to believe it.

In front of me, a squeal sounded. Alesha was in the pool frolicking with the twins and Sam. Kristian had just catapulted her through the air and she’d landed sideways with an almighty splash in front of Sam.

“You OK?” he asked with a laugh when she surfaced looking like a drowned rat. She nodded and he collected her in his arms, then said something to her I couldn't hear as he pushed her hair back from her face. She smiled and nodded again, and then he hugged her against his big chest. It was a picture-perfect moment. And if it had happened at any place or time besides this, I would’ve smiled and hoped my best friend was going to fall in love. Instead, I sat and scowled, hating myself for bringing us here. I’d messed up, and the only way I could combat that feeling of inadequacy was by sucking down vodka mixers and hoping I’d pass out soon so my brain would quiet. I didn’t know what else to do. It seemed to me that I was stuck without much choice.

Maybe Alesha had the right idea with her joyful acceptance of the situation. Her behaviour seemed crazy and asinine to me, but maybe it was her way of dealing. Maybe she was so frightened that she felt only complete submission would assure her survival. Although, from her position on top of Sam’s shoulders, she certainly didn’t look scared. I honestly didn't know what to think. I was better off drunk.

Shifting my gaze across the yard, I could see Toby and Nate inside the house, deep in conversation with Jasmine. Nate’s back was to me, but Toby and Jasmine kept a careful watch over the rest of us, giving me an unpleasant feeling whenever I caught their eyes.

Chewing the straw that had almost drained my fourth vodka mixer, I closed my eyes, feeling sick from the alcohol and lack of food—I’d refused to eat at dinner—but mostly from the worry seeping into my core. They wanted me to call my aunt and tell her I was going on a spontaneous vacation to the Cook Islands. I was to make up a story about being stressed and needing some time out. I didn’t know if I could pull it off. The last time I’d lied to her was in year ten at school when I told her I was sleeping over at a friend’s house, when in fact Alesha and I had snuck out to see a band. I never discovered how she figured it out, but she’d showed up at the venue, gotten them to stop the show and call us out of the audience. It was positively mortifying and meant that I never attempted to lie to her again.

“Nathaniel tells me that you aren’t too keen on your impending nuptials,” Jasmine said, taking the seat beside me. She held out another vodka mixer, which I gladly took but didn’t thank her for.

“Being told I’m to marry someone so I won’t be killed isn’t the romantic proposal I’d envisioned.”

“We take what we can get, I suppose.”

I regarded her with a frown. “I don’t know if you’re insulting me or insulting Nate.”

She sat up a little straighter and inhaled a steady breath. “If I’m honest, this whole situation is a fuck-up. I don’t know what it is my son sees in you, but he’s jeopardised the safety of this family with whatever game you two have going on. That tells me his interest in you runs a little deeper than a simple fuck. And since he won’t let me do things my way, we have to get creative.” Placing her elbows on her knees, she leaned a little closer and lowered her voice. “But mark my words. You refuse to go ahead with this wedding, and I will end you. I’ve been in this business all my life, and you don’t get to where I am without getting your hands dirty. Right now, the only reason you’re still alive is because of Nate. I suggest you keep him happy. He wants you. He wants children. I want grandchildren. Make being a wife and mother your focus and we’ll get along just fine. But if you fuck up, if you refuse him or try to leave or talk to anyone about our business, I will end everyone you love. Then I’ll slit you from ear to ear and make you watch yourself bleed out in a mirror. And there won’t be a thing my son can do to save you.”

I looked at her, my horrified heart beating wildly in my chest. She would slit me ear to ear? End everyone I love? Lord, save me. Who says stuff like that?

She sat back and smiled, seemingly pleased with my reaction. “Glad we cleared that up,” she said, patting my thigh in a motherly way that was completely at odds with the monster she’d just shown me. “There’s plenty more of those in the bar fridge.” She pointed at my drink. “Feel free to help yourself.”

I grabbed her arm to stop her leaving. “Can’t you at least let Alesha go? She won’t cause any trouble.”

Still smiling, she glanced at her sons and Alesha in the pool. “She fits in well here. I think we’ll keep her. You know, I offered her Toby, but she wanted Sam. I like a woman who knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to ask for it.” There was real pride in her voice.

“What about Sam? Doesn’t he want to find his own wife?”

“Relationships are hard to sustain in our line of work. Best if he has a woman who already knows what she’s walking into. Look at him, he seems pleased enough.”

“So your sons just do what you say?”

“If they know what’s good for them, they do. Alesha will make a good wife and daughter-in-law. I can already see that. You, on the other hand.” Her eyes moved over me with disdain. “You’re a complication. And I don’t like complications, Holland. But fall in line and we won’t have a problem. The choice is yours.” Then she turned and walked away, leaving me alone with my self-pity and a bottle of alcohol.

Tired, drunk and emotional, I made my excuses and was directed to a room upstairs where the twins had put my luggage when they returned from the storage unit. I had yet to speak to Nate, who’d retreated somewhere inside the house after his discussions with his mother and Toby. Doing what, I had no idea.

Toby had come out though, and he’d spent the evening watching—well, glaring—at everyone. Particularly me. I got the impression that he shared Jasmine’s sentiment and would rather do me in than welcome me into the family. Perhaps that would be for the best. I couldn’t imagine anyone would be particularly happy in this situation. Except Alesha and Sam, of course. They were acting like they’d won Lotto.

Perhaps this is all a dream.

Sitting on the end of a king-sized bed, I closed my eyes and clicked my heels together three times. “There’s no place like home.” Click, click, click. “There’s no place like home.”

Waiting for a breath, I cracked one eyelid open and allowed the room to come into view. I thought that if I willed it hard enough, I’d be sitting on the end of my own bed and not in a strange room in a strange house where I was prisoner. But alas, in front of my eyes was that cream fucking wall, grey carpet beneath my feet, a pale blue comforter beneath my arse. I was still in Torquay, also known as my new messed-up reality.

I sighed and pressed the heel of my palms against my eyes. I will not cry. I will not cry.

The door to the room opened and Nate stepped in, somehow moving quietly despite his bulk. I couldn’t help but notice that he didn’t need to stoop to enter. Custom-made door frames?

“I thought you were avoiding me,” I said as he took a seat next to me and leaned forwards, his forearms on his thick thighs.

“Just had shit to do. There’s a lot to organise.”

“Guess you never thought you’d be planning a last-minute wedding in the Cook Islands when you met me that night.” I tried to smile, but my lips wobbled and tears filled my eyes. I looked up to the ceiling and sniffed to drain them before they could fall.

“No.” He focused on his hands, thumb massaging the opposite palm. “But I reckon we could do worse for ourselves.”

I released a burst of air from my nose. “I could’ve chosen a contract killer to bed, I suppose.” The moment the words left my mouth, I felt awful. “I’m sorry,” I backtracked. “I shouldn’t put you down like that. I just… I don’t get it. How do you wake up every morning knowing that what you’re doing is illegal? Aren’t you afraid of getting caught? Don’t you feel guilty?”

Taking a deep breath, he laid back on the bed, his arms stretched out and folded behind his head. “You make it sound like I’m a bad guy, duchess.”

I twisted slightly, tucking my knee beneath me so I could face him. “Aren’t you?”

He shrugged. “I don’t feel bad. We’re not physically hurting people. Sure, they get a shock when they discover their shit is gone, but that’s what insurance is for.”

“So you just explain everything away like that and your conscience is clear?”

“Not clear. I know what we do is wrong, but at the same time I don’t really care. I’ve tried the straight and narrow before and honestly, it shits me. Working a nine-to-five while some other bastard gets rich off my back, that isn’t for me. I don’t want to live like that.”

“So you live on the run instead?”

“Who’s running?”

“I just can’t wrap my head around it. Your mother raised you all to be a band of thieves. Who does that?”

“A person who grew up in a ‘band a thieves’. This is the life she knew and it’s the life she taught us, the one we’ve all grown accustomed to. You’ll grow accustomed to it too. You’ll see.”

“What if I don’t want to see? What if when we stand in front of the altar, I refuse to say ‘I do’?”

His tongue slid out and wet the seam of his lips as he stared up at me, not speaking for a long moment. “Is the idea of a life with me really that terrible?”

“It’s not about you, per se. It’s about having a choice.”

“There’s always a choice, duchess.”

“What, marry you or die? That’s no choice.”

“There are worse choices.”

I looked at him, confusion knitting my brow. How was he so calm about this? Surely he wasn’t actually happy about our impending nuptials. “You can’t honestly tell me that I’m the woman you want to spend the rest of your life with. Marriage is supposed to be between two people who love each other, Nate. The only things I know about you are that you have a big dick and you rob people to make living. That’s not a firm basis for a relationship. And what do you know about me? I stretch enough to fit your big dick, and I figured out where you stash your loot and hide out.”

He chuckled.

“Why is that funny?”

“Loot.” He smiled. “You make it sound like we steal bags of cash with a big dollar sign on them.”

“Well I’m glad you find this so amusing. Meanwhile, I’m here having my life turned upside down.”

Reaching out, he wrapped a hand around my arm and pulled me towards him. “Come here,” he said, his voice soft as he urged me back on the bed. With a sigh, I joined him, lying on my side to face him.

“Let it be known that I’m lying here because I’m tired, not because you told me to.”

“Sure thing, duchess.” He placed a hand on the curve of my hip and looked into my eyes. “Listen, I’ll admit that getting married at this point isn’t what I’d planned, or something either of us wanted. We hooked up a couple of times, had crazy-good sex, and then I was less than gentlemanly in my exit.”

“You cleaned my apartment out. Twice.”

He chuckled again. “Yeah, and I would’ve loved to have seen your expression when you woke that second time. Shocked the hell out of you, right?”

“Of course it did. You’re a shit-stirrer. When the hell did you manage to roofie me, anyway? We were drinking from the same bottle, same cup.”

He lifted his hand and brushed my hair back from my face. His fingers grazing my skin felt ridiculously nice. “When I offered you my glass after you’d finished screaming my name.”

“I didn’t even see,” I whispered, my eyes fluttering just a little.

“Sleight of hand,” he stated, holding his pinched fingers to me, my gold earring between them.

“How?” My eyes went wide as I sat up on my elbow and touched my earlobe. “I didn’t even feel it.”

Sitting up with me, he gently placed the earring back through my ear. “It’s an essential skill in my line of work.”

“Your line of work.” I closed my eyes. My brain felt like it was vibrating from the stress of my situation. The alcohol really hadn’t been enough to take the edge off. It just made me feel sick, tired and even more troubled. “Tell me something about yourself. Something that doesn’t involve your… work.”

“I can cook,” he offered. “I make a really mean salmon dish with green beans that just melts in your mouth. Plus, I can make any kind of breakfast you want.”

“Can you make pancakes?” The idea of food made my stomach grumble. I still hadn’t eaten.

He smiled. “I’m told they’re the best around. Want me to show you?”

“Do you have Nutella and strawberries to go with them?”

“Jasmine keeps this place pretty well stocked, so I’m sure you won’t be disappointed. Wanna go see?” He sat up and held his hand out to me. Then my stomach growled so loudly that I felt compelled to take it.

“Just because you’re feeding me doesn’t mean I’m suddenly OK with all of this.”

“Understood. But I won’t allow my duchess to waste away. You can be pissed and well fed.”

When he led me down to the kitchen, the area was dark except for the light over the stove.

“Looks like everyone’s gone to bed,” I noted.

“Good. I was only planning on cooking for you, anyway.” He pulled ingredients from the pantry and placed them on the bench: flour, sugar, baking soda and salt. Then he dug a little farther and came out with a jar of Nutella. “Looks like we’re in business. Sit.” He pointed to the stools on the other side of the bench.

Doing as I was told, I climbed onto the stool and watched him move about the kitchen, pulling the last of the ingredients from the fridge: eggs, milk, butter, strawberries and… lard?

“You put lard in your pancakes?”

He winked as he started dumping ingredients into a bowl. “Trust me.”

I didn’t know why my mind didn’t instantly object to that request. Perhaps it was because the topic was only pancakes, but it made me realise that for some reason, unknown even to me, I did trust him. He may have stolen from me, but he was doing everything in his power to protect me. I had no doubt that I’d be dying in a ditch somewhere if he hadn’t stepped in.

“Thank you,” I said suddenly, the realisation of an alternative fate hitting me in the chest.

“Save your thanks for the final product,” he replied, flicking the whisk around the bowl like a pro.

“Not for feeding me. For saving me. I’m still pissed at you, but that doesn’t mean I don’t fully understand the gravity of what you’re doing for me.”

He set the bowl to the side and placed a pan on the stove, clicking on the gas flame before he met my eyes. “I’m just glad you said yes. It would’ve been a bit of a hit to the ego if the first girl I asked to marry me chose death instead.” He was so candid with his words. Whether he was joking or just being matter-of-fact, I didn’t know. Either way, calling this what it was made things a lot easier for me.

“I don’t recall being asked.”

One side of his mouth kicked up as he dropped a nob of butter into the heating pan. The scent and the sizzle took over the air. “How about you tell me something about yourself that I don’t know yet,” he said as he picked up the mixing bowl and tipped enough batter for two large pancakes into the pan.

“You know everything there is to know already. I’m a drama teacher, I sing, I can make a joke out of just about anything, and I have exactly one good friend. I lead a pretty sad life.”

“What do you like to do when you’re home alone?”

“If you’re hoping my answer is ‘masturbate’, you’ll be terribly let down. I like to binge Netflix while eating junk food. Or I like to read in bed while also eating junk food. Food kind of goes with everything, but it’s savoury for Netflix and sweet for reading. Oh, and I’m a terrible cook. I pretty much live on takeaway food. Uber eats is the biggest blessing of my life.”

“Can you chop?” He lifted his brow as he slid an egg flip underneath a half-cooked pancake and flipped it.

“Of course I can chop—as long as you don’t mind a little blood in your food.” He stopped what he was doing and looked at me, a question in his eyes. I laughed. “That was a joke. I guess I’m not very funny tonight.”

He moved slightly to his right and handed me the punnet of strawberries, a small knife and a cutting board. “Think you can manage to keep all your fingers intact?”

I picked up the knife and a strawberry. “I’ll try.”

As I sliced at the small red berries, using the knife as a weapon to escape crossed my mind. But the moment the idea entered my thoughts, I squashed it immediately back down. To do that, I’d have to hurt Nate. And despite everything he’d done, hurting him was the last thing I wanted. So I finished slicing the strawberries and then put the knife back down, realising that he’d been right earlier—there were always choices.

“All done,” I said, pushing the cutting board towards him.

He looked at the knife, then back at me and said, “Thank you.” I had to wonder if he’d been reading my thoughts.

When he set the plate of hot pancakes and melted hazelnut spread in front of me, my mouth watered at the sight. I almost drooled when the scent hit my nose. “This looks delicious,” I said, licking my lips as I picked up my knife and fork and cut into it. “You’re not going to join me?”

He leaned on the bench and shook his head. “They’re all yours. Eat up while they’re still hot.”

Loading up my fork, I took my first mouthful and moaned. They were the lightest, fluffiest, most delicious pancakes I’d ever tasted. “Oh my God.”

He seemed genuinely pleased by my reaction and smiled. “Glad you like them.”

“Like? I love them. In fact, I think I could marry these pancakes.” I took another mouthful and closed my eyes. They were so good.

“Technically, you are marrying those pancakes,” he pointed out, moving around the bench so he was standing beside me.

“Sure you don’t want some?” I offered, holding up my fork loaded with more than was polite to put in one mouthful.

“I’m not hungry for food.” His eyes swept over my body.

“Oh.” I stuffed the forkful in my mouth and chewed quietly, understanding exactly what he was insinuating. Once again I tingled, my nipples pressing against the fabric of the lace bra I was wearing, straining behind the sundress. Suddenly I wasn’t so hungry for food either.

He was by far the sexiest man I’d ever seen. He and his brothers were the kind of men other men developed crushes on and women swooned over. So, the question begged to be asked, “Why do you want me, Nate?”

“Why wouldn’t I want you?” he responded.

“Well, I’m not exactly model material.” I gestured with one hand to the entirety of me.

“I’m not interested in models.”

“So you’re a chubby chaser?”

He laughed. “No.”

“Then why me? Why are you so into this that you’re willing to marry me? Is it just to ease your conscience?”

He ran his thumb over the corner of my mouth. I closed my eyes at his touch, and even though I could feel he was wiping away a stray bit of Nutella, I wasn’t embarrassed. It was hot as hell.

When I opened my eyes, he was sucking his thumb into his mouth. “That was really sexy,” I whispered, to which he chuckled, then leaned forwards and kissed me by sucking against my lower lip.

“I think you’re sexy,” he whispered against my lips.

“Why?” I simply couldn’t wrap my head around it. He could have anyone. If he wasn’t a chubby chaser, then why would he choose me?

“How about I tell you how I feel when I’m with you?”

“That might help.”

“Found,” he said, his voice soft and low as his fingers danced across my skin, touching my face, my neck, brushing through my hair. “Weak.” He collected my hair in one big hand and wound it around his palm, tugging so my head went back. “Strong.” He pulled so I was forced to tip my head back, and then he lowered his head so his lips brushed lightly along my jaw. “Hard.” He whispered that last word in my ear, then held my earlobe between his teeth.

I released a slight gasp as my head swam with the desire he drew from me, uncontrollable.

“When I see you, I want you.” His lips moved down my neck and over the skin exposed by my dress. “When you aren’t around, I want you even more.” He brought his mouth back to mine. “And I know you want me too.”

“I do,” I gasped just before he sealed his mouth over mine and kissed me, his tongue claiming ownership over mine. My bones turned to liquid and I almost slid off the stool when he released me. Four words. The first two more profound, of course. Found. By me. Weak. Because of me. Was this even real?

“Finish your food. You’ll need plenty of energy to feed my hunger.”

I downed the last of my pancakes in record time.