Married. She would be married tomorrow. The idea was foreign to her, and Mia expected to wake up from this crazed dream, but every time she opened her eyes, she was in Max’s penthouse. Night fell over the city before she left the bedroom again to find a note taped to her door. She took it down, reading the words aloud as she walked.

“Went to work out in gym upstairs. Help yourself to fresh food in fridge, booze in cabinet over oven. Lawyer will need the following information.” She flipped the paper over. “Well, that man certainly knows how to be romantic.”

This was not the marriage she had dreamed about as a kid, but when she was a kid, she’d hoped she would never fall in love. Her parents’ relationship had been abusive. She grew up watching her mom being beaten down by a husband who thought she couldn’t do anything right, his daughter no better. Mia’s hand slipped to her stomach, remembering the one and only beating she’d ever received from her dad for trying to stop him from punching her mom in the face again. He’d kicked her hard enough that it would continue to hurt her even after he dropped dead of liver failure. She would never have children of her own. The one thing she could thank her father for, as twisted as it was. She had hurt enough to go to the hospital, though they didn’t take her for several days. She’d had an infection and the scar tissue to go with it. Her chances of having a child without surgery, which probably wouldn’t do much anyway, were extremely low.

Rather than her dream marriage, she was selling herself into a marriage with a man she didn’t know. At least he swore he would never hurt you, a voice whispered. Do you believe him?

When he’d said those words, she considered calling him out on it and laughing in his face. He might be gruff, but the honesty in his blue eyes shone back at her. She sensed deep in her bones that he told the truth. What was the harm in being married for four years? It would give her a chance to get her life together and figure out what she wanted to do and where she could go. She didn’t believe in love anymore. It was a fairy tale, a faraway concept she wanted nothing to do with.

Mia found the takeout pasta in the fridge and heated it up while she jotted down the missing information for the lawyer on the back of the note and added one more item to her list. Wondering what he would think of that, she smirked and found more tape to put the note on his bedroom door. It was closed, and her curiosity nearly got the better of her. However, it seemed wrong to push her luck when he’d offered her what was essentially a new life and a new identity. Once there was food in her stomach, she pushed a chair over to the cabinet over the stove and peeked at his liquor collection. Keith had never let her drink. He said it would only harm her in the long run and she would turn into an alcoholic like her drunk of a mother.

“Fucking son of a bitch,” she snapped as she snagged a bottle of tequila and stepped off the chair. She pulled off the cap, and without bothering to find a shot glass, she pressed her lips to the bottle and drank. The harsh taste caused her to cough, but she wiped her mouth on her arm and took another as the last two years of her life played out for her like a filmstrip.

Keith telling her she had to quit school, that she wasn’t smart enough to finish her degree in writing. That her poetry was shit and drivel, not good enough for him to wipe his boots on. Him telling her she had to wear makeup if she left the house so no one could see her massive pores. How she had to wear her hair long because only beautiful women and women of worth wore their hair long enough for a man to tangle his hands in it. Picking out her clothes. Not letting her get a license, carrying on a tradition from dear, old Dad. With every thought, she took another sip until the bottle was half empty. The liquor made her giddy, and she giggled even as tears burned her eyes.

She managed to stagger into the bathroom in the hallway and gripped the bottle in her white-knuckled grasp as she stared at her reflection.

You think you can escape me? Keith’s voice snarled in her mind.

Mia whipped around, her heart thundering in her chest, but he wasn’t there. “Go away,” she whispered.

Why? No man will ever have you, Mia. They can’t. You belong to me and no matter what, you’ll always come back to me.

“I said go away!” she screeched.

You’ll ruin this, just like you ruin everything else. It’s your fault your dad beat your mom, your fault for everything. Always your fault… you’ll never escape… never…

Mia screamed and raised the bottle to smash into the mirror but stopped herself just in time. Her nostrils flaring and eyes raging, she set the bottle down slowly and tugged on a strand of her long hair. She dug through the bathroom cabinets but didn’t find what she wanted, so she ran back to the kitchen, unsteady on drunken legs, and grabbed the shears from the knife block. When she returned to the bathroom, she fumbled with the scissors and picked up a heavy lock of hair. It was well past her shoulders and hung down her back.

And she hated every inch of it.

The sound of the scissors slicing through her thick hair sent a thrill of freedom through her body. She watched it fall to the floor in a chunk and, grinning madly, grabbed another chunk and then another. Keith’s voice faded from her mind the more she cut off. When Mia finally set the shears down and ran her hands through her messy, shoulder-length haircut, the smile that lit her face reached her eyes, something she’d missed for years.

“Nice to see you again,” she whispered to her reflection.

She scooped up the hair and tossed it in the bin, returned the scissors to the kitchen, and taking the tequila bottle with her, contented herself with watching the night go by outside her windows. This was the start of a new life with possibilities laid out at her feet. When she couldn’t keep her eyes open any longer, she curled up in a ball under the covers and let sleep take her, not fearful, for once, of who might join her in bed or what he might try to do.

* * *

Mia’s note in hand, Max relayed the missing information to the lawyer, including her added bit about him ensuring she acquired her driver’s license. He made a cup of coffee while he waited for her to wake up, pondering how she had reached the age of twenty-five without one, when he heard the bedroom door open.

“We have a long day ahead of us, so get your breakfast and coffee if you want and then we have to go,” he said and lifted his head. She held her head, squinting against the bright sunshine pouring through the penthouse, but it wasn’t her hungover state he was curious about. He’d noticed the missing bottle of tequila when he went for the whiskey. “Haircut?”

She reached for a k-cup and popped it into the coffee maker. “Yeah. You like it?”

The edges were jagged and anyone could tell she’d done it herself, but the fire he spotted in her eyes flared to life as he leaned his hip against the counter. “Suits you better.”

She smiled at him, and he cleared his throat, holding up the note. “Did you see what I added?”

“I did and passed it all onto the lawyer. How do you not have a license?”

Her shoulders stiffened—barely, but he still caught it. “Things happened and I never needed one.”

“That’s a lie,” he muttered.

“What did you say?” she snapped, turning around.

“I said that’s a lie, but if you don’t want to tell me the truth yet, fine.”

“I don’t.”

“Fine.”

“Fine,” she repeated angrily.

He drank the rest of his coffee to prevent anything worse from slipping out of his mouth. “Right, we’re leaving in fifteen minutes. Going to the lawyer’s first, then shopping, and then Jeremy is meeting us at a chapel out of the way.”

“You were able to plan a wedding just like that?” she asked, almost sounding impressed.

“I bribed the local pastor, so yes,” he informed her. “Be ready to leave.”

“And my license?” she pressed as he walked away.

“We’ll get it within the first two weeks. It’s in the contract,” he told her and went to finish getting himself ready.

The night before, his workout had helped ease his tension and get him to sleep, but less than five damn minutes with this woman and he was wound tighter than a top again. There was no time before their long day of venturing for him to work it off again, so he would have to find another way to deal with it. A quickie would’ve done nicely, but they’d agreed sex was not on the table—unless she wanted it to be, of course. Max never turned down sex with a beautiful woman.

Her chopping off her hair so drastically got the gears turning again in his mind. Why had she cut it off? The long locks were gorgeous on her, and he knew plenty of women who would be jealous of such fine-looking hair.

The man she was with before… it had to tie back to him. Max resisted the urge to go back and corner her until she answered him. Today was meant to be a happy day for most people, and he was basically buying himself a wife, one who would fake happy whenever necessary to uphold her end of the deal. He pulled on his dress slacks, white shirt, black vest, and silver tie, then shoved his arms through the sleeves of his matching black jacket. The shopping was mostly for her benefit. He wasn’t marrying a woman in jeans and a t-shirt, or allow a woman get married in such a fashion. It was her day as much as it was his, and she deserved something nice to wear. From the state of the clothes in that duffel, she wasn’t used to anything fancy, and Max’s chest swelled because he would have the chance to spoil her.

“Don’t get attached,” he warned himself as he straightened his tie in the mirror. “This is a business deal, nothing more.”

His nerves told another story. The last time he was nervous around a woman was the first time he took one to bed after the car accident had ruined his face. She was the woman he swore he would love forever, but she’d ripped his heart out and torn it to shreds, stomped on it for good measure, and then threw him to the side as if he were trash. He’d vowed that day he would no longer search for love, that he didn’t care if he ever found it.

“Ready?” Mia called from the doorway.

“Yeah,” he growled and scooped his keys off the dresser. His eyes slipped from her new haircut to the bulky sweater that hid the curves he imagined existed under there, and to the worn-out shoes on her feet. “Maybe we’ll shop first.”

“Does my appearance embarrass you?”

He leered as he closed his bedroom door behind him. “No, but I thought I’d be nice and give you a chance to look your best on your wedding day.” Who was he kidding? She already looked damn fine in what she had on with minimal makeup to cover up her naturally smooth skin and soft curves.

Her cheeks flushed, and she dug the toe of her shoe into the floor. “Sorry.”

Max’s hand moved before he knew what he was doing, and he placed two fingers carefully under her chin, raising it. “For what? Don’t say you’re sorry for shit you shouldn’t be sorry for.”

“But—”

“No, no buts. Let’s go and get this circus started.” He strolled past her, and she followed close behind. A quick glance over his shoulder revealed her lips curling in a crooked grin for barely a second before it disappeared.

If it was the last thing he did in this four-year arrangement, he’d get that woman to smile and laugh. Funny, when was the last time you did that yourself? He grunted as he opened the front door and motioned for her to step out first, telling his inner voices to shut up for the day.

* * *

Time passed in a blur. Mia’s emotions were so torn up by the time she said I do, she wasn’t sure she could tell up from down anymore. The ring on her finger—a simple gold band with a single diamond—was a weight reminding her of what she’d agreed to on a whim. At the end of the ceremony, she and Max exchanged a brief kiss, a gentle brush of his lips on hers that slowly turned into something more until Jeremy’s whistling startled them apart. Max cleared his throat loudly as he held onto her hand, her other hand preoccupied with the tiny bouquet of tiger lilies she’d picked out at the florist.

Her white wedding dress clung to her curves and dragged along the floor behind her, a gown fit for a five-star evening out on the city on the arm of a man just like Max. The diamond studs in her ears cost a pretty penny, too, as did the single pendant hanging from her neck. She’d assumed she was only picking out a ring, but Max refused to leave until she had everything she wanted. A perk, he told her, of being the wife of a rich man. Mia was not the type to be spoiled and certainly never had anyone buy her anything this nice before.

“The roses would have matched your dress better, I still think,” he mused as they strolled down the short aisle of the chapel.

“No,” she said, eyeing her brightly colored bouquet. “No roses.”

“What woman doesn’t like roses?”

Envisioning roses handed to her by Keith sent a shudder through her so hard she stumbled. Max held her steady, cursing under his breath as he set her back on her feet with a worried look. “I don’t. I hate them with a passion, actually.”

“Something to keep in mind,” he replied.

“So,” Jeremy said as he slung an arm around Max’s shoulders once they were outside. “Where would the happy couple like to celebrate their first married night together?”

“I am starving.” Mia grimaced. “I haven’t eaten today.”

Max quirked a brow at her. “Why didn’t you say something earlier?”

“I got caught up in the rush of the day, I guess,” she replied sharply. “You know, if we’re supposed to be happily married, you can’t scold me like that.”

“I can when my wife isn’t taking care of herself.”

She yanked her hand from the crook of his arm and holding up her dress, tossed her bouquet on the ground and stalked to the car. She considered driving off and leaving him and Jeremy behind, but she lacked the keys and had only driven a car a few times when Gina used to teach her at night in the library parking lot. With nowhere to go, she hopped up on the trunk of his fancy-ass challenger and stared out over the open fields surrounding the chapel. When he’d said he found a place out of the way, he’d meant it. They drove for two hours outside the city just to get here. A chilly breeze picked up, and goosebumps broke out over her arms. She shivered and wondered if this had been the right decision after all. She couldn’t be with someone. Keith and her dad had made sure of that. It would never be normal—she would never be normal, ever again.

A jacket fell over her shoulders and she jumped. “You looked cold,” Max explained, leaning against the car as she tugged the jacket around her. “Is it safe to take care of you like this?”

She hung her head, fighting back the urge to scream her frustration to the sleeping dead in the cemetery just a few yards away. “I’m—”

“Don’t say it.” He cut across her words. “Say anything else besides those words.”

She shoved her hair away from her face as she glanced his way. His jaw was set and the muscles at his neck strained. “I don’t want to be scolded like a child, ever again. No matter what I do, you do not control every aspect of my life.”

His sharp gaze locked onto hers as his jaw worked. No words left his mouth, but he nodded.

“And for the record, I have never been spoiled in my life. No one ever bought me anything this nice before. And I hate roses because they remind me of a man I’d rather leave far, far behind me.” She tugged the jacket tighter around her body, sinking into the warmth left behind by the brute of a man she’d just married. “And I think you’re the most handsome man I’ve ever seen in my life.”

Mia frowned. Where had that come from?

Max kicked at a rock on the ground, shoving his hands in his pockets. “You don’t have to lie.”

“I’m not lying,” she promised and spun to the side so she could face him fully. Her hand lifted and she reached out, running her fingers tenderly down the line of his strong jaw and up the scar on his left cheek, a scar she hardly noticed on this man who risked so much for a woman he didn’t know. He might say he wasn’t the hero type, but she came with a ton of baggage, more than most men would be willing to blindly deal with.

His hand caught hers, holding it to his face, and his brow furrowed, his eyes wavering between aggravation and pain she sensed had nothing to do with her. “Where… uh, where do you want to eat dinner? Bride’s choice.”

He hadn’t let go of her hand yet, and she relaxed in the comfort of his large palm. Her mind drifted over all the food Keith had refused to let her have in case it ruined her perfect body. She shook with mirth, cackling loudly until he gave her a worried look. “All I want is a greasy burger and about a pound of fries.”

“Tequila to wash it down?” She swore he was going to smile, but he held it in.

“Sounds like a party to me.”

He kissed the back of her hand and stepped away hurriedly. “Right then, Jeremy get your ass over here! We’re going for burgers!”

“I know the perfect joint!”

“We are not going to the gay club,” Max argued as Mia sputtered with laughter, hopping down from the trunk of the car. Max picked up the bouquet she’d carelessly tossed to the side and set it in the trunk before he climbed into the driver’s seat.

“Oh, come on, they had so much fun with you last time,” Jeremy whined once they were piled in the car.

“No, pick another damned place.”

“You ruin my fun, that’s all you do.” He pouted in the back seat. “Keep that in mind, Mia.”

“Nah,” she said and stared out the window as they drove back towards the city. “I’ve seen much worse than Max.”

A tense silence filled the car before Jeremy named other places they could go. Max either agreed with him or shot him down, and neither—thankfully—asked what Mia meant. She was married. That was enough drama for one day.

* * *

The hour was late and Max was expected in the office the next morning. Not that this was a typical wedding night where he would be up for hours making love to his new wife. They dropped Jeremy off after dinner and drinks, returning to the penthouse with Mia tipsy. She kicked off her heels the second she stepped through the door, giggling through her hands.

“Oh, man. You know, for an impromptu wedding day, I don’t think it was too shabby,” she informed him. She held up the hem of her dress, spinning around and around in the open space.

Max was transfixed by the sight and stood completely still, not wanting her to stop. As the evening wore on, she’d relaxed more and more, and though she hadn’t completely revealed what had really happened, the little bit she had told him so far was a good start. With each spin, her hair tumbled out of the up-do until only a few pins held it in place. She came to a stop as she threw her arms out to balance herself. With a sigh, Max reached out to hold her and turned her around.

“I don’t think you want to sleep with those in your hair,” he muttered and dug through the hair-sprayed tendrils to find the rest of the pins. She flinched at his touch initially, but relaxed back against his body. Max stilled, his fingers buried in her hair, and wasn’t sure what to do. She sighed loudly and dragged him from his confused state of mind. He drew out the last pin. “There, I think you’re good.”

“Thanks,” she murmured through a yawn. “I think I’ll head to bed now.”

“You’ve had a long weekend,” he told her, but she didn’t move. “Mia?”

“Hmm? Sorry, think I dozed off for a second.” She giggled again and still didn’t move from his body. His fingers trailed feather-light up her bare arms, and the insane desire to kiss her neck and up to her ear nearly crippled him.

“Do you need help getting to your room?”

“Nah, I can make it,” she assured him and pushed off his chest, made it three steps, and stumbled on her long dress. Max hurried forward and swept her easily into his arms. “You do that a lot.”

“Do what?” he asked, his voice thick with want for the woman in his arms.

“Carry me. And you say you’re not a gentleman.”

He huffed. “I’m not, not even close, but I’m doing my best to respect your wishes,” he stated and shoved open her bedroom door without setting her down. He carried her to the bed and lowered her to her feet. Her body slid down the full length of his, and he groaned from the contact.

“What would you do if you weren’t respecting my wishes?” she asked, dragging her finger down his chest.

He caught her hand in his and leaned down so their faces were level. “I’d tear that dress from your prefect body and ravish you until you screamed my name and begged for more,” he growled. “I’d kiss you until you were dizzy and neither of us could see straight. I’d show you how many ways I could pleasure your body, touching you, tasting you… I’d do all of that.”

Her lips parted and her eyes narrowed. He worried he had pushed too far, but there was no glimmer of fear in her eyes. He released her hand and turned to leave when her hand shot out and caught his arm.

“Wait,” she pleaded on a breath.

“If I stay much longer, I won’t leave,” he promised.

“Just one more minute. Don’t you want to give your bride a good night kiss?”

At the chapel, when he’d kissed her briefly, Max had wanted nothing more than to crush her against his body and have his way with her mouth, her body, her everything, but he was afraid of scaring this woman who was supposed to be in love with him. He wasn’t after love—neither of them were—so why did he step towards her and reach out a gentle hand to her face? Why did his other hand wrap sweetly around her hip to her back and pull her against his body? She trembled in his arms, but her light smile said it wasn’t out of fear.

Want. She wanted him as badly as he wanted her.

This was a bad idea—terrible if they wanted to keep their distance and maintain the agreed-upon business relationship. She rose on her toes and tilted her head. Any thought of keeping his distance from this mysterious woman disappeared the moment he lowered his mouth to hers. Her lips were softer and tasted of the margaritas she’d been drinking all night long, salty and sweet at the same time. As her hands fisted in his shirt front, Max deepened the kiss, flicking his tongue against her lower lip. She opened her mouth for him, and he held her close, exploring every inch as passion flooded his body. When he was with a woman, it was always a quick in and out and done, but with Mia, he wanted to take his time, needed to experience all she had to offer and then some. A quiet moan flowed from her mouth and he swallowed it, desperate to hear more.

But the kiss had to end before he did something they would both regret. He withdrew his tongue and brushed his lips gently against hers and then her forehead before he stepped away. Her chest heaving with ragged breaths, Mia’s fingers rested against her lips, staring at him in awe and confusion.

“Good night, Mrs. Ward,” he whispered and turned on his heel, leaving her quickly before he changed his mind and relieved her of that dress hugging every delicious curve of her body. He would dream about her all night long, he knew it, hoping to catch a glimpse of what she looked like without any clothes on at all. His wife. His Mia.