“Megan Renee Dolan, you will do this! You will not disgrace 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 new job.

“Put the dress on, Megan, or I won’t hesitate to have it put on you.” The door slams behind the older woman as I slide down the wall, head on my knees.

The worst part about all of this is I’m being used. Forced to marry a man I don’t know, in name or on paper, and not because I’m pregnant. That’s all really just a front for my selfish, uptight parents. The truth is, Dad’s 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 or his profession. What I do know is that he needs a wife because he wants a legitimate heir. I doubt the poor man even knows I’m already pregnant. Which gives me a rather devious idea as I pick myself up off the floor.

Grabbing the dress my mother has chosen, that, in my opinion, shows off far too much skin, I wiggle my tiny baby bump into it and smile for the first time.

If he doesn’t already know I’m pregnant, he’s about to. Before the preacher gets a word in edgewise. This sham 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 sashay 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 as I’m about to burst his bubble.

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

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

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

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

My parents are sitting front and center, and I see hers on the opposite side of mine. All of them look smug as fuck.

I’d be lying if I said I haven’t wondered what the girl looks like. If I’ll regret my rash decision 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 slowly walks down the aisle. Her white dress, short in length and low-cut in the front, doesn’t leave much to my imagination. A veil covers her face, but I see her light curly hair peeking out the sides in soft waves down her back.

As she stops in front of me, I’m dumbstruck after 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 in, though. A shy smile plays across the plump pink stain. Holding my hand out for her to take, her delicate fingers touch mine and a zap of electricity shoots straight to my already hardening dick.

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

Found that regret…