I groan when I wake up to someone pounding on the outside of the door.

“Go away!” Dex yells to the maids. “Sleeping!”

For once, he says something that I agree with. It’s still dark out.

I turn over, rubbing my eyes, and come face to face with my handy makeshift wall of suitcases. It’s still between us, separating the two sides of the bed like heaven and hell. I’ll let you guess which side has the devil on it.

“Open up,” a muffled voice calls through the door. The voice is a little deep for a maid.

“Shit,” Dex mumbles as he gets out of bed. I peek over the luggage wall like a soldier taking a look over the parapet of a castle to see the enemy. The enemy is in boxer briefs. The enemy is armed with sexy tattoos and a nice ass. The enemy will be the death of me if I’m not careful.

Dex takes a deep breath before opening the door. Marv is there, bursting in like a cannonball. He’s fully dressed and showered, looking way too awake considering the sun isn’t out yet.

Dex turns to me as he yawns. “Did you order a billionaire?”

I sit up in bed, giving Marv a wide smile even though I’m cursing him in my head. “Good morning, Mr. Gladstone,” I say, trying to sound chipper despite my groggy voice. “Up nice and early I see.”

“I’m up at four a.m. every morning,” he says, pounding his chest with a fist. “It’s the billionaire way.”

I’d rather keep my broke ass little bank account and sleep in until noon, but that’s not what I tell him.

“I love getting up before the sunrise,” I lie as I jump out of bed and open the curtains. There’s no sunlight to let in.

“Oh, God,” Dex says, rubbing his eye as he stumbles back to the bed. “I’m the only sane one here.”

He belly flops onto the bed with a sigh as Marv closes the door.

“We have a busy day,” Marv says, charging into the room like a seasoned general. He tilts his head as he looks at the suitcase wall down the middle of the bed but doesn’t say anything about it. “We’re meeting Prince Kalib today.”

“Great,” I say, grinning. The faster I meet the prince, the faster I can charm him into buying sixty yachts, the faster I get my money, the faster I can quit, and the faster I can go to flight school to become a pilot.

“Are we meeting him for breakfast?” Dex asks with his face smushed into the pillow. “Does the prince get up at ungodly hours as well?”

“We’re meeting him for lunch,” Marv says with a smile. “On his private island.”

“Private island?” Dex asks, finally looking awake. “Are we taking the jet?”

“Nope,” Marv says, shaking his head. “There’s no runway. The concierge is getting us a float plane.”

“Are they getting us a responsible pilot as well?” I mumble.

They both turn and narrow their eyes at me. “I mean, what time are we leaving?”

“I want to see both of you in the lobby at nine,” Marv says. He glances at the suitcases on the bed and he takes a deep breath. “Are you two going to be able to play nice?”

“Yes,” we both say, not looking at each other.

“I want happily married couple,” he says, looking from me to Dex like a principal who’s warning two unruly students. “Not an ‘about to get divorced’ married couple, and not an ‘I married him for the money but secretly hate him married couple.’ Can you two pull that off?”

We glance at each other and nod. Dex’s hair is all messy from sleeping, but somehow, he looks even hotter. It’s not fair. My hair is plastered to the sides of my head like I slept in a motorcycle helmet.

“There’s a lot of money on the line,” Marv says, his voice tense and serious. He doesn’t have to remind me about that. There’s six hundred thousand dollars on the line for me, and I’m not about to let some stupid rivalry between me and Captain Fuck Face get in the way of that.

“I won’t let you down,” I say, standing up straight. “You can count on me.”

Marv stares at me for a second and then sighs. “What about you?” he asks Dex. “Can you play nice?”

“I’ll be my regular charming self,” Dex says while scratching his balls over his boxer briefs.

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Marv answers with a sigh. He furrows his brow when he sees the hot tub full of water with the pillow floating on the surface. “I don’t want to know.”

“She did it,” Dex says, pointing at me. “She tried to seduce me, but I turned her down. I’m trying to stay professional.”

“You’re the one walking around in your underwear!” I snap back.

“You’re the one who keeps looking,” he answers.

“Stop!” Marv shouts, shutting us both up. “I’m selling sixty yachts today. If I don’t, it’s coming out of your paychecks.”

Dex laughs. “That would take me a hundred lifetimes to pay off with what you pay me.”

“Then act professional,” he snaps. “Otherwise you’ll be flying around the devil in the afterlife to pay your debt.”

“I’m already flying around with the devil,” I say, glaring at Dex. “And I can tell you that it sucks.”

It’s only five a.m. and Marv already looks like he’s in desperate need of a stress ball.

He rubs his forehead as he walks to the door. “Nine a.m. in the lobby,” he says as he opens it. He glances down at his Rolex and takes a deep breath. “You two have four hours. I suggest you get your story straight.”

“Story straight?” Dex repeats.

“You two are supposed to be married,” he says, looking as frustrated as a dateless virgin on prom night. “You should know information about each other.”

“Will do, boss,” I say, nodding at him. “You can count on us.”

Marv stares at me for a moment and then lets out another sigh. He steps out of the room and closes the door without saying another word.

“We should know everything about each other,” Dex says, turning onto his back. It takes everything I have not to glance down at his chiseled abs.

I hate to admit it but he’s right. One little slip up can cause all of this to come crashing down. If I don’t know how he takes his coffee or if we contradict each other about where we live, our last name, our jobs, anything, Prince Kalib will know there’s something up.

He grins as he leans up on his elbow, watching me over the suitcases. “We should know what our spouse looks like naked,” he says. “You can go first.”

If my eyes could shoot laser beams, his head would be in the shape of a canoe.

“What’s to know?” I ask, glaring at him. “I’m hot as shit, and if anyone asks, you have a three-inch dick. There. Settled.”

He chuckles as he drops his head back onto the pillow, smiling as he stares up at the ceiling. I finally get a chance to glance at his abs, and I can tell you that he sure as shit didn’t skip ab day.

“I always thought my wife would be nice,” he says, rubbing his bearded chin.

“Shitty husbands make shitty wives,” I say as I pick up his shirt and throw it at him.

“So, everything is my fault?” he asks, looking at me in disbelief.

I give him my fakest smile. “Sure is! Welcome to married life, hubby.”

* * *

“You have the most beautiful smile,” Dex says, making me cringe.

He’s not talking to me. He’s talking to the young blonde waitress at the restaurant where we’re eating breakfast.

She glances at my left hand quickly and then smiles at him when she doesn’t see a ring on my finger. That reminds me…

“Thank you,” she says, tilting her head as she leans on the table, staring at him like he’s a famous celebrity and she’s trying to get invited back to his trailer.

“What’s your name?” he asks, leaning toward her. He’s trying to make me jealous. That’s all this is. But the jokes on him because it’s not working.

She thrusts her chest out, sticking her perky breast absurdly close to his face. “Sofia,” she says, showing him more than just her name tag.

Dex takes much longer than necessary to read one word. Or maybe he has the reading ability of a kindergartner. I wouldn’t be surprised.

I grab my paper napkin and tear it into a million pieces under the table as I watch the two of them flirt. Definitely not jealous.

“Such a pretty name,” he says, flashing his straight white teeth at her. She’s slutty putty in his hands. “Isn’t Sofia such a pretty name?” he asks, turning to me with a grin.

“Mm-hm,” I mutter through my clenched jaw. “I like how it rhymes with gonorrhea.”

Sofia shoots me a dirty look before turning back to Dex with a soft smile. “What’s your name?” she asks him.

“It also rhymes with diarrhea,” I interrupt, “and North Korea.” Okay, that last one was a stretch.

“My name is Dex,” he says, rubbing his arrogant chin as he ogles her. “And this is my assistant, Riley.”

“Co-worker,” I correct.

Sofia doesn’t seem to care. She’s not nearly as interested in me.

Time to pour some ice on this fire before it gets out of control and I’m sleeping in the hallway.

“Co-worker slash wife,” I say, trying to stifle my laugh at Gonorrhea’s shocked face. “Can we order now, please? My husband gets very cranky when he doesn’t eat.”

Gonorrhea backs away from the table and pulls out her notepad, giving me a glassy stare as I open the menu. “You go ahead, honey.”

Dex sighs in defeat, slumping down in the booth as Sofia stares down at the table. Is it bad that I’m loving the awkwardness?

“I’ll just take the bacon and eggs,” he says, handing her the menu as he lets out a long, low sigh.

“Eggs?” I say, lowering my menu as I stare at him with feigned concern. “Are you sure it’s a good idea to eat that, honey?”

He’s staring at me with an icy glare. “Why wouldn’t it be? Honey.”

I have to hold in my laugh as I pretend to be the concerned wife. “Your IBS will kick in.” I lean in close to Gonorrhea and lower my voice. “He has irritable bowel syndrome. Just one bite of an egg and his asshole will turn into a fire hose for the rest of the day. It’s disgusting, but I still love him, even though he does cost us a fortune in toilet paper.”

The tip of his lips curls up into a half smile as I reach across the table and take his hand in mine. “It’s a challenge for both of us,” I say, nodding as I look at him with soft eyes. “And we have to replace our toilet at least once a year, but our love is worth the struggle.”

“Are you finished?” he whispers to me.

I shake my head slowly. “I’m just getting started.”

He gulps as he turns to the waitress, not looking nearly as confident as before. “Just bring us some pancakes please.”

Gonorrhea looks at me and I nod. It was what I was going to order anyway.

She hurries away from our table like his made-up IBS is contagious.

“Irritable bowel syndrome?” he asks, shaking his head as he watches me. “Really?”

“I improvised,” I say, grinning. “You always have shit spewing out of your mouth, so I thought it was fitting.”

He leans back in the booth and laughs. “You were just jealous.”

“Ha!” I scream, a little too loud. Way too loud, actually. People at the neighboring tables lower their waffle and egg covered forks to turn and look at me. “We’re supposed to give the appearance that we’re married. How is it going to look if you’re getting numbers from slutty waitresses?”

He rolls his eyes as he grabs his empty coffee cup and looks in it. “We could have had great service because of me, but she’s probably hiding in the back now because of you.”

And I couldn’t be happier.

“Let’s get down to work,” I say, folding my hands on the table as I put on my business face. “We have to know the basics about each other.”

“Fine,” he says, running his hand through his hair. The short sleeve of his t-shirt falls down his arm, showing off a tattooed tricep. I swallow the whimper that’s crawling up my throat.

“What’s your favorite position?” he asks.

“For what?”

He leans in with a raised eyebrow. “For when we’re together.”

I take a deep breath as I glare at his frustratingly beautiful face. “My favorite position for when we’re together is me turned away from you with my hands over my ears.”

He grabs my pen and scribbles on his napkin as he nods his head. “So, doggystyle. Nice. I was picturing you on top, but this is good too.”

“I’m picturing you with your head in a vise,” I say in a tight voice.

He just ignores me, tapping the pen on his strong chin. “So, doggystyle. Facing a mirror?”

“Ha!” I laugh, crossing my arms and leaning back as I stare at him in disbelief. “You are so in love with yourself. Of course, you would have to be facing a mirror when you have sex. Would I have to put on your cologne as well, so you can close your eyes and pretend that you’re having sex with yourself?”

“No,” he says, shaking his head as he grins at me. “I like your smell. It smells like pent-up sexual aggression mixed with denial.”

I huff out another laugh. The pent-up sexual aggression I’ll give him, but the denial? No.

“Denial of what?”

He leans over the table and holds my eyes with his icy blues. My heart starts pounding in my chest as the hair raises on my arms. Why does he have to be so hot? This would be so much easier if his face matched the ugliness of his soul.

“Denial that you want me to pick you up, throw you over my shoulder, bring you to our room, and not let you out until your legs are trembling, you’re covered in sweat, and everyone in the resort knows my name.”

The sexy timbre of his voice sends warm shivers through my body which mix with the flood of warmth brought on by his words. I hold my breath, barely able to breathe under his intense stare.

My palms are so sweaty that I’m wishing I didn’t make confetti out of my napkin.

“You’re the one in denial,” I say, swallowing the increased saliva in my mouth.

“This should be good,” he says, raising his chin as he waits for it. “What am I in denial of?”

“That I’m not attracted to you,” I say, trying not to scratch my cheek, look away, or do any of the other poker tells that will show I’m lying. “That not every woman on the planet wants to see you naked or have disappointing sex with you.”

The waitress interrupts us when she returns to the table with a pot of coffee. She fills our cups in record time and hurries away before either of us can talk to her.

Dex stares at me as he opens a milk and pours it into his coffee. “So, one milk,” I say, taking my pen back and writing it on the pad of paper that I brought. “We should know how we take each other’s coffee. I take mine with two milks.”

He doesn’t write it down. Why is he not writing it down?

“Where do we live?” I ask, tapping my chin with the pen.

“Colorado.”

“Why would we need a yacht if we live in Colorado?”

“Fine,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Miami.”

I think about it for a second and then nod. “That’s good.” I write it in the notes.

“Do we have any pets?” I ask.

He takes a sip of his coffee and grins. “Why don’t you tell me?”

“Two dogs,” I say, writing it down. “Sherry is our German Shepherd, and Canuck is our pug. We rescued him while on vacation in Canada.”

“We rescued him?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. “From a fire or something?”

“No,” I say, frowning at him. “From the pound.”

“Okay, Wonder Woman,” he says, laughing at me. “You walked into the pound and rescued him. You’re such a hero.”

“Fine,” I say, aggressively crossing out the last line with my pen. “No pets. What do you do for a living?”

He hums as he thinks about it. “Elementary school teacher.”

I jerk my head back in surprise. With his huge frame and hard round muscles covered in ink, an elementary school teacher is the last thing that he looks like. He turns away, looking embarrassed as I stare at him, trying to figure it all out.

“What?” he asks with a shrug. “I like kids.”

“Do you know any elementary school teachers who own a yacht?”

He sighs. “Why don’t you just tell me what I do for a living? What do I look like to you?”

A model, a rockstar, a pornstar, the Devil.

“Let’s go with real estate investor.”

“And you were a mail order bride,” he says before casually taking a sip of his coffee.

“What?”

“I picked you out of a catalog.”

“What is wrong with you?” I ask, furrowing my brow. “I’m a smart, independent, working woman.”

He just shrugs.

We go on like this, hammering out details until our pancakes arrive. At least, I go on like this. Dex sits there, looking more bored by the minute.

He’s still not writing any of it down.

His continued lack of giving any fucks is starting to get on my nerves.

We eat fast so we can grab our bags and head to the lobby in time. He doesn’t seem to be listening as I reread him my notes, trying to slam the information into his thick skull.

“All right,” Marv says when we see him in the lobby. “From this point forward, you two are happily married owners of a yacht.”

Dex is grinning as he looks down at me. “By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you the luckiest woman in the world.”

“Great,” I say, glaring back at him. “You may now kiss my ass.”