I never thought I’d actually get married, but apparently I was very fucking wrong.

I hate wearing tuxedos. I feel completely out of place in it, but Julia insisted and it’s not my place to rock the fucking boat. Every second I’m wearing this thing, I have to remind myself why I’m doing this.

It’s for the money. Of course it’s for the money. It’s definitely not for the beautiful nineteen-year-old girl wearing a low-cut dress standing a few feet away from me right now. Definitely not for her, that would be fucked up and wrong, considering she’s about to become my stepdaughter.

The ceremony is taking place in Julia’s back yard, which is surprisingly large. She invited her father though he didn’t come because of his illness, her brother and his family, plus a few other extended relatives and coworkers. In all, there are maybe thirty people here, which is absurdly small given how expensive this wedding clearly is.

It’s all catered plus a live band. Although she wanted to keep it small, she still spent a fair amount on flowers, place settings, tables and chairs, and all that shit. It’s overkill, and I said we should just go to city hall, but she insisted we have at least something.

I spent most of my morning getting briefed by Julia and going over our cover story. I’m to tell people that we met while she was on vacation last year and were dating in secret ever since. We fell in love and decided to make it official, but we don’t want a big wedding, not at all.

The whole thing is a sham. Very literally, it’s a fucking sham, and I’m a part of it. I don’t exactly feel bad lying about this sort of thing, since it’s a lie that won’t hurt anyone. Except for maybe Sydney. The rest of Julia’s family and coworkers seem nice enough, but none of them really strike me as people worth giving a shit about. She clearly doesn’t.

I order a whisky at the bar. I have a few spare minutes while the guests mingle and drink, waiting for the ceremony to start. Dinner comes after that, plus a speech by her brother. Nobody is asking me why my family isn’t present, which is all well and good, since I don’t have any. But it is strange that nobody seems to care.

“Nervous?”

I’m pulled out of my thoughts and look next to me. Sydney smiles at me, a dazzling thing that sets my heart pounding. “Not at all,” I say.

“I would be. You’re in the middle of the Hall family now.” She smiles then orders a white wine from the bartender. She’s only nineteen, but I doubt anyone will care if she drinks.

“And what’s that mean?”

She shrugs and walks over toward an empty tent. I follow her, sipping my drink. “Mom hasn’t told you?”

I shake my head, keeping my face straight. “Not too much, no.”

“Funny,” she says, cocking her head. “You two have been dating for how long?”

“One year,” I regurgitate. “We met while she was on vacation.”

“Oh,” she says. “Which vacation was that?”

I pause, trying to remember. Was it fucking Jamaica or Saint Croix? “Jamaica,” I say.

She nods, sipping her wine. “Well, she should have mentioned how crazy these people are.”

I smile at her, feeling a little relieved that I passed her test. But it’s interesting that she was testing me at all. “How so?” I ask.

“Oh, you know. Lots of money. Even more egos. Makes people crazy.”

I can’t help but laugh a little. “So you’re different, I take it?”

She frowns slightly. “Trying to be, at least.”

“Good. Trying is more than they do, I bet.”

“You’re right about that.” She smiles at me. “So, you know, Mom never said. What do you do, exactly?”

“Private security,” I say.

“Interesting. How’d you get into that?”

“I was a SEAL for a long time, and when I left the military, it just seemed natural.” I shrug, looking at her. “What about you?”

She glances away and I get the sense that I touched on a sore spot. “I took a year off from college,” she says. “I don’t know what I’m doing, though.”

“I wish I did that,” I say. “I went from high school straight into the service. Must be nice to have some time to yourself.”

“Maybe,” she says. “Though everyone I know is moving on. Except for me.”

I step closer to her, interested by her story, though I can’t say why exactly. It’s not something unique, but I’m drawn to her anyway, completely engrossed in her. I want to tear that fucking black dress from her body and feel her milky skin under my rough fingers, but I have to keep myself under control. I have to remember why I’m here.

“I suspect you can do whatever you want,” I say.

“The problem is finding out what I want.”

“I think you could figure it out easily.” I stand close to her, staring at her, daring her to ask me what I think she wants.

She cocks her head, a small smile on her face. “Why’s that?”

“You seem very... capable.”

“Do I?” She smiles. “Well, if you say so, Mr. SEAL.”

“Please, Mr. SEAL was my father. Call me Connor.”

She laughs at that old stupid joke, and I love the sound of it. I want to make her laugh so much more.

But I don’t get the chance. Julia appears at my side, slipping her hand under my arm. “There you are,” she says. “What are you two talking about?”

“Connor was just telling me about his time in the service,” she says.

“Well, not really,” I say.

“I’m glad you two are getting along. But it’s time for the ceremony.”

“Wonderful,” Sydney says, though it doesn’t sound like she means it.

“Shall we?” Julia asks, and I nod. We head over toward the gazebo where everyone is gathering. The priest is already standing there, looking out over the crowd.

It’s real, it’s really fucking real. I’m about to marry this woman, this total stranger, for the chance at a fuckton of money.

But if I’m honest with myself, that’s not why I’m getting involved here. As insane as it may be, Sydney is the reason I’m here. Sydney is the reason I want to move into this house. I’ll be her fucking stepfather, though not really, just legally. She suspects that something is going on, and I want to tell her, though I know that I can’t.

Still, there’s something in the way she looks at me. I know it’s there. I’ve seen that look on many faces in my life, and it always means something buried deep down. She wants me, maybe as much as I want her, but she’s going to fight it.

All I have to do is unlock that feeling, get deep under her skin. So eventually, I can get deep inside of her, and take what I’m really here for.

It’s crazy, it’s sick, it’s wrong. But my blood is hot and pumping in my ears, and it’s not because I’m getting married.

It’s because I keep picturing my soon-to-be stepdaughter’s dress torn off her body as I fuck her tight pussy rough and make her beg for more.