Chapter 17

Seventeen

SCOTTIE

Shit.

I stop and curse my sore ankle when I notice the dour look on my landlord's face in my attempt to sneak out of the complex after Emory.

"What do you think you're doing, girl?"

Nothing in my life comes easy.

Of course Gerald would be here, of all days, to question me moving out.

At least Emory is outside, putting a few of my boxes into his car so I can drive to his place without cardboard blocking my view.

Or is it our place?

Gerald clears his raspy throat behind the plexiglass separating his office from the entryway, and I square my shoulders. "I'm moving out. My letter of termination is upstairs on the table." I place the keys on the counter with a loud clunk.

"You can't do that. You're violating your lease agreement."

I instantly have a headache. If I wasn't trying to build my credit up so I can be a responsible adult one day and get a loan, I'd leave Gerald high and dry.

I mean, if I was willing to blackmail a random pro hockey player for money, who's to say I wouldn't skip out on paying this creep rent? But nonetheless…

"I will pay the remainder of my lease agreement as soon as I can."

"As soon as you can? Does that mean you'll be late on your dues again? Because I'm telling you, girl…I will turn you into collect?—"

I interrupt him before Emory comes back and inserts himself into something I want him nowhere near. "I'll pay on time."

"You better, Ms. Monroe! Or you'll regret it."

Asshole .

I shoot him a glare before turning around and running straight into Emory's hard chest. I wince as his hands fall to my upper arms. When I peer at him from my much shorter frame, he's glaring at my ex-landlord. My face turns fifty shades of red. Please tell me he didn't hear that conversation.

"It's Mrs. Olson," Emory corrects him, as calm as ever. His fingers tighten against my biceps, and my heart does a weird flip. "I don't want to hear you threaten my wife again."

Wife.

A gush of something warm rushes from his fingers wrapped around my arms all the way to my toes.

I'm at a loss for words.

It's a marriage of convenience. A fraud.

We're bound by a stupid contract, and there isn't an ounce of love between us, yet I'm tricked into letting myself believe that his devotion is real.

It's a swift kick right to my stomach because, God, how I crave to have one person on my side. For once.

"I don't see a ring on that girl's finger."

Emory's entire body tenses, and I panic.

I push on his chest, and he immediately gives me his attention. Anger swirls in his eyes, and instead of being an ocean-blue color, they're arctic .

Memories begin to surface, and chills run to my arms. The number of times I've had to step in between a heated argument, stop someone from fighting—usually someone trying to hurt William—and block a blow so my mother wouldn't get her lights knocked out is obsolete. Each time I'm reminded of the violence, my stomach clenches.

"Let's go," I whisper.

Emory furrows his forehead and glares at Gerald over the top of my head, then grunts. Thankfully, he turns around, and we head out the door, welcomed by the crisp scent of autumn.

After a few painfully awkward seconds, Emory finally asks the question I don't want to answer. "How much do you owe?"

I know the number off the top of my head, and on the drive over, I worked out my finances for the next year as Emory Olson's wife, figuring it all out.

"I've got it under control," I say.

We stare at each other for a few long seconds before he accepts my answer and starts in the direction of his car. "Follow me to City Hall."

I can't help but roll my eyes.

He is so bossy.

"Did you just roll your eyes?"

I cross my arms and do it again, emphasizing that he isn't the only one who can be insolent.

I'll admit, Emory makes me a little nervous. He can be intimidating, and arrogance practically bleeds from his pores. But in the same breath, he intrigues me, and there's a wild part of me that wants to push his buttons like he does mine.

His deep chuckle makes my lips twitch, and I hope he doesn't notice. He shakes his sandy hair before climbing into his car and revving it loudly before I even make it to mine.

I turn my car on and rev it too. Embarrassing as it is, my car makes a loud popping noise each time I turn it on, and gray smoke puffs from the exhaust. I peek in my rearview, and Emory is slack-jawed. He shakes his head a second later and pulls away.

I want to be defiant and refuse to follow him.

But I have to.

Because I've signed the contract, and as of this evening, we will officially be married in the state of Illinois.

"Well, that does it, you two lovebirds. You gonna kiss your bride?"

Rhodes snorts, and his daughter claps from on top of his shoulders. My face burns, and I'm sweating. This is not how I imagined my wedding would go, but it seems fitting because my life is such a fucking joke.

"Shut up," Emory barks, snatching the phone from the wooden podium.

Apparently, his friend, Ford, is an officiant, and it's surprisingly legal to have someone "marry" you through a video chat. I didn't protest because the less people present, the better.

Rhodes, who is aware of our contract, and Chastity, who graciously agreed to be here at the very last second—and was forced to sign an NDA by Emory—are our witnesses. As of right now… I guess I am considered a married woman.

"Are you sure this is what you want?" Chastity whispers after pulling me out of the video frame as Emory begs his sister to help sell our marriage to his parents.

I'm certain Taytum thinks poorly of me.

I just married her brother for money. For all she knows, I'm just another gold-digging woman.

In an attempt to practice my lies, I nod. "Yes. Of course this is what I want. Plus, it's a little too late to change my mind."

Chastity arches an eyebrow. She's dressed down today, and you would never know that she's one of the top strippers at the Cat House. "Out of all the girls at work, you are the very last one I'd ever assume would be in this position."

I grab her warm hands and give them a squeeze. "And out of all the girls, I knew you'd be the only one to understand."

"I mean, if I had some hunky pro hockey player ask me to get married out of convenience, I'd jump right on his dick."

I snort and try to hide my laugh.

Rhodes curses under his breath and walks away with his five-year-old daughter.

"But you? Miss Independent? I'm just…surprised."

My voice drops. "I need the money."

"That badly?"

The last voicemail I got from William echoes throughout my head, and I nod. "He's willing to pay me monthly, and I'll get a hefty amount after our contract is up." It'll be more than enough to reopen William's case. "Plus, I hated those men looking at me."

Chastity smiles deviously. "And I love it."

I laugh, and it catches Emory's attention. Our gazes snag, and my stomach fills with unease. Did I seriously just marry him?

I shake off the worries.

There is no room for regret or doubt in my life.

"Well, should we take a picture so you can post it on social media?" Emory stands with his hands on his hips, waiting for my response.

After a glimpse of the room we're tucked away in, I laugh.

A quick marriage at City Hall with a stripper, a scowling hockey player, and a five-year-old as our witnesses is preposterous. Emory wants me to paint us out to be happily-in-love newlyweds on his socials, and he thinks this setting is going to cut it with the media?

"What's so funny?" he asks, deadpan expression and all.

Rhodes snorts again and puts his wiggly daughter on the floor. She bounces over to Emory, messy braids swinging behind her shoulders, and gazes up at his tall frame. "She needs a ring, dummy."

Emory's lip curls. "She does?"

She takes her small hand and slaps her forehead. "You may be good at hockey, but I don't think you're very smart."

"Ellie," Rhodes attempts to reprimand his daughter, but a laugh bursts out of my mouth at the same time Rhodes shakes his head in disbelief. Emory's eyes flick to mine sharply, and I cover my lips to try to hide my amusement.

Emory sighs, and I swear I feel his warm breath all the way across the room. I watch him bend down to get on Ellie's level, and although his voice softens, I still hear him.

"Wanna go with me to pick out the ring?"

She nods so vigorously little pieces of hair fall out of her messy, woven braids. "Daddy! Can I?! Can I go pick out a pretty ring?"

Rhodes grips the back of his neck and squeezes it.

"I can keep you company while they go," Chastity muses, half-joking.

"You're coming with me," I say to her, saving Rhodes from the aneurysm he's about to have.

Emory's jaw tightens. "And you're going where?"

I cross my arms and raise an eyebrow at my new husband and his insolent tone.

"To get a dress."

His eyebrows furrow. "We're already married. Why do you need a dress?"

"For our wedding photos."

His jaw slacks, and I sigh. I gesture to the room and land on the peeling wallpaper that's straight out of the 1960s. "If you want me to sell our marriage to the media, we're going to need something more than a quick city hall elopement in a room that reeks of must."

Emory scowls, but in the end, he murmurs the word fine.

I wave goodbye to Ellie, and she gives me a thumbs-up before mouthing, "I'll pick out a big ring!"

I giggle softly. Emory catches me smiling, and something races across his face that I can't decipher even if I tried.

When they're all gone, I look over at Chastity. "You ready?"

"Where are we going to get a dress?"

I grab my keys off the table. "The thrift store, obviously."