Megan was on a plane and headed to the weekend-long vacation-style wedding reception with her new hubby at his billionaire family’s estate. She suppressed a frustrated groan as she shrank against the window and away from Chad.

Anger wafted from him, in his hard breaths, his barked words at the flight attendant, his tense stance. Apparently you could get married while drunk and stupid. Undoing it was another matter entirely. Although he had every right to be pissed that annulments for stupid decisions weren’t an option in Las Vegas, it hurt.

He’d hired an attorney and gruffly shoved papers at her to sign. Divorce papers. In six to twelve weeks she’d no longer be Mrs. Chad Chambers. The fairy tale princess buried within her secretly basked in the fact he was legally hers for the next few weeks, but her inner realist suffered the psychological blows of his scorn and outright disgust. It wasn’t like she’d planned for this to happen.

Chloe hadn’t returned any phone calls or texts. The only thing either of them had heard from her was a terse text. Bring her with you to the estate.

Dread clawed Megan’s insides. Surely her best friend knew this wasn’t intentional on either of their parts. She set aside the worry and focused on a plan. As long as she had a plan of attack she could handle anything, including the sexier than hell man glaring at her like she’d squished his cat.

“It’s probably best if no one else knows about this,” he mumbled, voice lower than husky and sexier than satin sheets. “Thank fuck this weird ass wedding reception was confined to family only.”

“I think it’s sweet,” Megan whispered.

“What?” His eyebrows furrowed when she chanced a glance his direction. Tingles danced down her shoulder where they touched.

“I think it’s sweet that your brother is giving Bridget this weekend—a ‘family get-together.’ He knows how much being part of the family means to her since she doesn’t have one. The fact he put that need above the baser impulse to drag her away for a week of debauchery on some isolated island beach is sweet.”

Chad flashed the nuclear smile—the one which incited a meltdown in Megan’s defenses. “I’m sure Bridget will make it up to little brother. She’s good like that.”

Bridget made the Sports Illustrated swimsuit edition look like a trolls feature presentation. The fact she didn’t have a single mean bone in her lithe and flawless body only made the entire disaster worse. She deserved a perfect weekend, one focused on her new family.

“When we land, I’m going to grab a plane back home. Bridget won’t even miss me, and my not being there will keep things from spinning out of control. It’ll keep the weekend about her and Chet.” Megan clutched her stomach. “I’ll write down my cell number, in case you have to get in touch with me about the d-d…”

Ugh. She couldn’t even force the ugly word out. Divorce. Revulsion shuddered through her. Her eyes burned. She pushed the sunglass atop of her head into position and stared out the window as her mind worked out the details of her impulsive decision. She should have enough room on her Visa card to shift her flights around. Hopefully.

“And leave me to field the Spanish Inquisition?” Chad shook his head. “No way, Spaz. We’re in this nightmare weekend together. If we both tow the same line we’ll be good. We don’t remember anything and we’re fixing the mistake post haste. End of discussion.”

“Right.”

“We’ll have Mom, Dad, Chet, Chloe and anyone else there onto another topic before the appetizers are off the table. No harm, no foul.” He flashed a warm smile, one that made the flecks of sunshine dance in his eyes. “I’m glad this isn’t awkward with us. I mean, it could’ve been really bad if we didn’t both see how big of a mistake this was. What were we thinking?”

“Yeah, it was crazy for sure.” Her heart thundered wildly in her chest. The burn seeped from her gaze in fat, hot tears she blinked rapidly to purge.

If she breathed deep enough she could smell his musky cologne, the soap on his skin—the same as hers. The princess in her liked smelling like him and secretly wondered if she could steal a few bottles of the cologne, maybe a couple bars of the signature Chambers soap. Chad shifted restlessly beside her.

“I’m surprised you flew commercial, especially coach,” she commented.

“Well, it’s not like I was left with a choice. The entourage left at first light and I was handling the fallout from our drunken disaster.” He shrugged. “Commercial coach isn’t so bad as long as you don’t mind chopping your legs off at the knees and inhaling the stale air of a couple hundred strangers.”

Megan forced a grin even though Mount Vesuvius erupted inside her. Every second that ticked by was a fleeting moment, one she’d never get back. Though the Chambers attorneys hadn’t worked their magic yet, she had little doubt they’d make last night’s “incident” disappear fast. The only thing that moved faster than a billionaire bad boy was his attorneys—and no one moved like Chad Chambers.

She swept a sunglassed gaze across his beat up, but still designer label jeans and ratty sneakers. The Chambers family was unlike any rich family she’d ever met—not that she had a lot of billionaires on her friend’s list.

Chad’s massive hand settled atop hers. Awareness arced between them when he squeezed. An electrical tingle shot up her arm, heat spiked in her bloodstream. Determination reflected in his gorgeous green eyes—shining emeralds so vibrant they engulfed every other color. “We’re gonna get through this, Spaz. I’m gonna make sure this doesn’t blowback on you, okay?”

Confusion rattled her a moment. “Blowback?”

“Only you wouldn’t realize the fallout from our surprise nuptials.” He chuckled, kept her hand locked within his. “Sheila’s gonna be pissed for starters.”

Ha. Megan was okay with Sheila Somners being pissed. The bitch had taken Chad on an exhaustive roller coaster ride the past few years—all because he didn’t want his son being raised by a social pariah. What had he called her? Oh yeah. An emotional vampire.

Given the fact their divorce hit tabloids for well over a year, Megan realized she was an idiot not to realize the media would be all over last night’s accident. Damn. No wonder he didn’t want anyone outside family finding out. One word from the wrong person and the entire world would be raking his personal life over the social media fires all over again.

This time little Hunter was old enough to understand, have questions. The adorable five-year-old clone of Chad stole Megan’s heart a couple years ago when he’d secured full custody and Chloe became the favorite babysitter.

“I still can’t believe she’s dragging you back into court for joint custody.” Megan squeezed the arm rest between them. “It’s not fair.”

“She doesn’t want Hunter, she wants money. The prenup didn’t give her what she wanted.” Chad’s jaw twitched. “The lawyers think she stands a chance of increased rights, though. Courts favor the mothers and she’s cleaned up her act. If we land in front of the wrong judge, it could get ugly.”

And now he had an unexpected marriage to a frumpy teacher with a hundred bucks in savings and more coupons than credit lines.

“We’ll get through this. You know I’ll do whatever it takes to keep Hunter with you. You’re a great dad.” The best. He was everything I wanted in a dad and never had—the kind of man who made a woman’s uterus ache with the need to bear his young because he’d be the perfect and loving protector.

It was one of the twelve thousand two hundred twenty three reasons Megan loved Chad. And reason number four on the list of why she couldn’t ever have him. He needed someone in his world, someone who could be the caviar country-club model-gorgeous mom Hunter deserved. A woman with the social wherewithal to navigate the billionaire lifestyle and make it a loving, nurturing environment like the one Chad was raised in.

The Chambers may have had silver spoons, but they had platinum hearts and diamond grade souls. They were the kind of people you read about but never imagined meeting.

Everything Megan was not.

Chad allowed the silence as the plane descended even though every second chewed his gut. Megan was the kindhearted type who internalized, never let loose her hellfire temper unless provoked. Beneath the tepid veneer lurked a fiery temptress, one he’d glimpsed a few times over the years.

One he’d steadfastly avoided until last night.

His cock swelled as his gaze swept to the generous breasts now covered by a loose white t-shirt. The crimson bustier from last night was permanently seared into his brain. And that skirt. Jesus, his fingers still itched to trail beneath the short, snug material. Megan had the kind of full thighs and hips a man could settle into for a long, hard ride. She was the kind of woman who could handle whatever her man desired. And she’d come alive for him—only him.

Fuck.

He shifted restlessly in the seat as the wheels slammed against the tarmac and the plane decelerated fast enough to shove his gut into his throat. He yanked out his cell and texted the driver for an evac. The sooner they got out of the airport, the better. Although last night’s fiasco had remained below the tabloid’s radar so far, it wouldn’t take long for some story-hungry reporter to find Megan’s Instagram pics from last night.

He hadn’t had the heart to have her take them down. He thumbed to his favorite and smiled at the whimsical, almost possessive glint in her gaze as she wrapped a hand around his waist. A phantom squeeze radiated along his spine, tingles trailed beneath his skin. Yeah, he liked that possessive glint a fuck of a lot. It was the kind of look a mama bear got when someone messed with what was hers.

If Sheila had had half that possessive glint for him or Hunter, things would’ve been a fuck load different. His gut soured thinking about the piranha bitch he’d scraped off years too late. Chet had warned him, but he’d thought with his dick rather than his head. By the time he’d seen the bitch lurking beneath the beauty, she’d gotten pregnant.

Thank fuck he’d scraped her off before Hunter got any older. Between the shit she snorted and the bastards she screwed, Sheila wasn’t anywhere close to a good mother for their kid.

“Hey, are you okay?” Heat spread from where Megan touched his arm.

“Yeah, must’ve nodded off.” He rose, noting most of the sardines had vacated the can. “Let’s go.”

Chad reached for Megan’s hand, but she shoved both fists into her jeans pockets. Her gaze swept the area, as if she expected paparazzi to spring out from beneath the seats. Damn. He shouldn’t have mentioned the blowback.

“Hey.” He squeezed her shoulder and halted their progression. “We’re going to get through this, Spaz. You and me, no matter what. Okay?”

Moisture pooled in her gorgeous blue eyes. He’d navigated many oceans and seas, but he’d never delved into depths as turbulent as those peering up at him, as if assessing whether he spoke the truth. The doubt struck harder than a fist to his solar plexus.

“We’re solid, no matter what.” He settled a hand behind her neck and squeezed. “Tell me you’re with me, Spaz.”

“I’m with you,” she whispered.

“Okay, good. Let’s go.” He yanked her hand from her pocket and intertwined their fingers.

Awareness arced between them, like it always did when he touched her. He sensed her apprehension in the way she huddled closer to him, the tentative, slow pace she fell into as they exited the plane and walked the empty corridor leading to the terminal. Humanity buzzed like an angry swarm of over-cooled air and obnoxious conversations amid booming voices on the intercom as they entered the terminal.

One good thing about flying commercial—his media stalkers wouldn’t expect it, which would hopefully give them enough time to get to the family estate their mom had chosen for the family get-together slash marriage celebration. She’d chosen well. The location was very secluded, tucked in the Washington mountains behind three secured gates. The White House had less security than the elite compound.

He headed toward the baggage claim and spotted the distinctive dark purple trimmed polo jacket. The younger of the two men headed toward the conveyer belt while the older gentleman closed the distance.

“Mr. Chambers, I’m Wilfred, your grandfather’s assistant. If you’ll follow me, we’ll depart.” When Megan followed as well, the man paused. “Joseph will be taking you, Miss Gallagher, after he attends the luggage.”

What the hell? Chad halted. Hand clasped around Megan’s he glared. “No. Megan stays with me.”

“Your grandfather has summoned all the men of the family to the club for cigars and cocktails. I’m afraid I must insist,” Wilfred said. “It’s unfortunate enough that Chet chose to hauled his bride off to an undisclosed location rather than attend his own reception.”

Damn. He didn’t blame Chet for keeping his bride away from the family. The whole welcome her into the family thing had been Mom’s idea—an epically screwed up one since it involved their grandparents.

Gramps was heavy on the pretention and light on the subtle on a good day, and he had very few of those. He loved his grandparent’s to pieces, but they excelled at snobbery. Chad blew out a frustrated breath and angled Megan away from Wilfred’s earshot. “I’m sorry; you know how my grandparents are.”

“It’s okay,” she whispered.

“No, it’s not. Gramps is a stodgy throwback to old money roots. This is his favorite ploy—divide and conquer. I’ve never liked them using it on you when you came over with Chloe.” Chad brushed an errant curly strand from her face. “I won’t be long. When you get to the spa, find Chloe. Or Mom. If Gramps got wind of Vegas, he may have recruited Grams into whatever this is.”

“We both know what this is. They want to make sure I don’t sink my claws into you. As soon as they realize you’ve already had me sign divorce papers, they’ll be happier.” She averted her gaze at the word divorce. “Your grandparents love you, Chad. I totally understand.”

Well, he didn’t. In his opinion, Megan was too understanding. He’d given her crap about trying to hightail it back home and leave him with the fallout, yet he was about to let his grandfather’s assistant divide them. It was a power play, one meant to knock Megan’s confidence, security. She’d been a trusted part of the family’s outer circle as Chloe’s best friend since high school. His grandfather knew better than treat her so disrespectfully.

“Chad, really. Of all the things you’ve got to battle right now, this isn’t one of them. I’m fine. Really. Go. See your grandpa. We’ll meet up later, when and if you have time.” A smile flashed across her face, three quarters fake and one part uneasy. “Tell him I said hi.”

Joseph cleared his throat from Megan’s other side. “This way, Miss Gallagher.”

Chad grimaced at the inflection Joseph and Wilfred both cast on Miss Gallagher, as if setting the tone for expectations. Marriage wasn’t an option he was prepared for. He’d never seen himself as a family man, then Sheila struck.

Hunter was the best damn thing he’d done. He wasn’t about to saddle up with another mistake and put anyone above his son. Women were fun, but the last thing he needed was a wife.

So why was he bothered by the two men not recognizing her as his wife? Then again, maybe that was for the best. Maybe the old man hadn’t gotten wind of Vegas after all. It wasn’t like Chad was ashamed that he’d somehow winded out marrying Megan. Worse things could’ve happened. She was a beautiful, smart and lovely person who’d done right by his little sister for years. She’d make someone a wonderful wife someday.

Just not him.

Sheila wrung him out emotionally. He had nothing left to give a woman. Megan deserved so much more than the husk of a man he’d become. What little love he had left to give went to his son. Hunter was all he needed.