I had to fight the urge to clamp my hand over my mouth in an attempt to take back the stupid thing I'd just said. I couldn't let my dad know that I'd just blurted out a fucking huge lie. I risked a look at Livie, hoping she'd understand and not say anything. Her eyes were wide and she looked startled, but not angry, so that was good. I really needed her out of here if I was going to keep up the charade. My father knew me and he'd never believe me if I wasn't all over Livie just to prove my point. Somehow, I doubted that would get the same non-angry response.

When she managed to excuse herself without blowing my cover, I breathed a silent and short-lived sigh of relief. I didn't know her well enough to say that I actually liked her, but she'd done a nice thing by bringing me home and an even nicer one by not calling out my lie. I didn't want her in the middle of the shit storm I knew was coming.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Dad's voice rose as soon as the door shut. “You don't know that woman. What'd you do? Go find the cheapest whore you could and pay her to marry you?”

I tried not to think about the offer I vaguely remembered making to Livie the night before. “She's not a prostitute.” My hands curled into fists. He had no right to talk about her that way. She'd never done anything to him and it wasn't like she'd been half-naked when he'd come in. Hell, her clothes were more conservative than some of the ones I'd seen the trophy wives of his friends wearing.

“Drop the act, young man.”

Somehow, even though I was twenty-nine, my father could always make me feel like a child.

“Your behavior at dinner was reprehensible. Unforgivable.” His eyes were flashing. “I should cut you off right this instant.”

I scowled. “You told me that if I agreed to follow your rules, you wouldn't do that.”

“Exactly. After you agreed to marry Rebecca, you humiliated her and both families, got drunk and are now making up this completely ludicrous story about being engaged to a woman you clearly don't know.”

“I never agreed to marry Rebecca,” I said. “I agreed to get a job, to stop getting plastered and doing stupid things. Am I in jail this morning? Did I do something dumb last night?” I really hoped I hadn't or this was going to get so much worse.

“Don't use that tone with me.” He pointed his finger at me. “You knew exactly what you were agreeing to.”

“She didn't want to marry me, Dad,” I said. “Rebecca Stirling was being used like a fucking chess piece.”

“Watch your mouth,” he warned.

“I meant what I said at dinner.” That part of the night I remembered quite clearly. “It's bad enough that you're forcing me into this. I'm not marrying someone who's forced into it too. That's basically prostitution.”

“You're on very thin ice here, Blayne.” His mouth twisted into a smug smile. “But you've also just shot yourself in the foot.”

I frowned. What did he mean? I hadn't said anything new.

“When I first mentioned marriage to you, you said there was no way you could find someone to marry you that quickly. Then you refuse the engagement to Rebecca, citing all of those nice, noble reasons. Not once, either time, did you mention this fiancée of yours.”

Shit. He was right. My brain scrambled for a lie that he'd believe. Or at least one that would sound plausible enough he couldn't completely discount it. “Because I knew you wouldn't approve.” Yeah, that was going to make it all better. “Livie's from the Czech Republic and I knew you'd think exactly what you thought. That she's in it for the money.”

“No, I think it's the green card too.”

I kept going, pulling bits and pieces together to create something of a story. “She's a businesswoman, Dad. A legitimate businesswoman. I met her a while ago.” I had to make this realistic but not hurt Livie's reputation. The chances of this getting back to her were slim, but she didn't deserve to be subject to malicious gossip. “We had drinks and I tried to get her in bed. She turned me down flat.” That much was moderately true at least.

“And you proposed?” He raised an eyebrow, the expression on his face clearly saying he wasn't believing a word of this.

“I kept seeing her in different places and we'd always have a good time drinking and talking, but it wasn't a relationship. She was okay with keeping it casual because I never wanted anything serious, but you're forcing my hand on that one. Last night, after I left, I saw her again. I figured if I had to get married, it might as well be to someone I knew I could get along with. When I told her what you were doing, she accepted.”

Dad laughed and shook his head. “You actually expect me to believe that?” He gestured toward the door. “How much money have you spent on her? Did she ask for a big ring? A car?”

“She didn't ask for anything.” I hated that my father could think like that about someone like Livie, but the only way I could get out of it was to tell him what really happened. I was in too deep. I couldn't do that. Dad would think I was a bigger failure than he already did and I'd be out on the street, with nothing to my name. “And she's a good girl. Not from some rich or important family, but she's not the kind of person who'll shame your precious name.” I gave him a bitter smile. “I do enough of that on my own.”

He didn't contradict me.

“She has a legitimate business, dresses well and is kind and polite.” All true. “You didn't say I had to marry some up-tight snob.”

He looked at me hard and I knew he was trying to get me to crack. I'd been on the receiving end of that stare more than once. I kept looking back, my face blank. The only times he'd ever caught me in a lie were the occasions I'd done something dumb enough to leave evidence. He'd never been able to coerce me into confession and I wasn't about to let him start now.

“I may not have been specific enough regarding what constituted appropriate,” he said finally.

I should've been relieved. This fake engagement might buy me enough time to figure out what I was going to do. The problem was, I saw a gleam in my father's eye that meant his concession was actually just the introduction to something worse.

“But now I'm going to be.”

Dammit.

“You see, I know you Blayne. I know that you're lying, either about who that girl is or this whole engagement story. Most likely both. But I know you're not going to tell me. You're going to do what you always do, try to find some loophole, some way around what you're required to do.”

I didn't like it, but he was right. I was already trying to find a way out.

“So here's how it's going to be. There are going to be some requirements that accompany this engagement and marriage.”

“Now wait a minute,” I started to protest. “I don't think it's fair that you're going to tell me what I can and can't do in my own marriage.”

“Be quiet.”

My mouth snapped shut. I wished he'd stop treating me like a child.

“First, you've made your bed and you're going to lie in it.”

Oh shit. I really hoped that didn't mean what it sounded like.

“There will not be serial engagements where you propose, get engaged, then break it off a few weeks or months later, hoping to reset the clock on the timeframe I originally gave you.”

I hadn't even thought of that idea, but if I had, that's definitely what I would've done.

“You said this Livie is your fiancée, so she's the one you're going to marry. If you break this engagement or have her break it off, you're done. And since you've already found her, there's no need to wait six months since you won't be calling off the wedding. You will get married this Saturday at the courthouse. If she wants a big wedding, you can have a ceremony whenever you wish, but it will be legal before next week.”

This was getting worse. I was so screwed.

“I'm sure the next thing you're thinking is that you'll simply marry her, wait a few days or maybe even a couple months and divorce her, claiming you fulfilled your end of the bargain since you got married.”

I hated that he knew this part of me so well, but had never bothered to get to know anything else about me. If there was anything else to me other than shallow manipulation. I knew my family didn't think so.

“You will have to stay married for at least three years, at which time, she can file for divorce if she wishes, but you're not allowed to.”

I ground my teeth together so hard that my jaw started to ache.

“Lastly,” he continued.

If he said I had to get her pregnant, I would end it right there. It was bad enough that I'd dragged a total stranger into this shit. I wouldn't even consider bringing a child into the picture. Besides, there were already twelve kids in the family, including five boys to carry on the family name. The Westmore legacy was pretty secure.

“During the entire time you're married, you'll remain faithful to her.”

I stared at him. He had to be kidding. This was a fucking arranged marriage. He couldn't seriously expect me to spend at least three years only having sex with one person. I didn't doubt I could get any woman into bed, but I didn't want to be with the same person more than a couple times, much less three entire years.

“You can go to strip clubs and watch, but if I hear you're doing anything more than watching, you're done. I won't even pretend that I won’t have people looking out for my interests. If there's even a hint of infidelity, you lose it all.” He took a step toward me. “This Saturday, three years, she has to file for divorce, and you keep it in your pants or in that woman.”

My jaw dropped open in shock. I'd never heard my father be so crude and a flare of anger went through me at how he talked about Livie. I didn't even know what to say.

“Think about it,” he said. “You've started this ball rolling. Now it's up to you to decide how far you're going to take this lie. But if you come clean, you'll either marry Rebecca Stirling or you'll be out on the streets. I will not ever… ever… have this conversation with you again. I’m finished with your messes and your shit.”

Before I could respond, he turned around and walked out, slamming the door shut behind him. I sank down on the couch. What had I done? If I'd thought I'd been in trouble before, it was nothing compared to now, and I only had myself to blame. I'd painted myself into a corner and I only had two ways out. I could confess and lose everything.

Or I could go try to convince a complete stranger to marry me.

I dropped my head into my hands. I was so fucked.