Chapter 3 The Morning After

GWEN

"Are you out of your bloody mind?" I whisper in shock while watching Tom go down on one knee.

As if it's not enough, my mouth waters at the sight of the fifty-five-carat diamond-cut ring Tom brings out of his pocket.

After years of selling these to excited men, I was finally on the other side.

Suddenly, a bunch of men and women aiming high-tech cameras swarm around us, taking photos, while my mouth remains open.

If I say no, I'm doomed anyway.

"Fine," I choke out.

Tom smiles at me, knowing he's won this round.

Surprisingly, as the news hit the websites, everyone wanted to know the mystery woman who finally tied down one of New York's most eligible bachelors.

I know I should have taken that money. I really miss sleeping nine hours a day and not daydreaming about a squealing baby at work.

But I can't give up on Genevieve and poor little Mikey.

Within days, I have my first meeting with my soon-to-be in-laws in their Hampton mansion.

I haven't been inside for five minutes when Diana, the matriarch, fires her first words aimed at me:

"If only you were fraternal twins."

The smile on my face instantly freezes, despite the heat rising in my chest.

"Shit," I mutter through my teeth. Tom didn't even bother to tell me his family knew I wasn't really Genevieve.

Tom's exact words about her were, "She demands everyone's respect, yet gives none in return."

I glance at Tom, who's in the middle of texting on his phone.

Diana gives me a stern look. "So, you want to destroy my family's reputation? Good effort, but it will be a complete waste of your time."

Mikey squirms in my arms, and she quickly reaches for him with a fond expression.

"Thank God that conniving woman gave him a Christian name. Is he baptized? Are you even Catholic?" Diana demands.

I cross my arms with disbelief. Who does she think she is? Ah, so this is where Tom's shallowness comes from.

"Yes," Tom says, finally speaking up to defend my honor. "They're Catholic."

"Hurray," I say without humor.

At this point, I know Diana and I will definitely not get along.

I meet with Sebastian and Laura, who both share their mother's distaste for me.

Later, Tom and Diana settled inside an office. My fingers nervously tap my thighs, and then I catch Tom watching me.

"What?" I ask.

He looks at his mother.

"The contract isn't complicated," Diana declares. "You and Tom will remain married for two years and get divorced afterwards. It doesn't matter if Genevieve returns or not."

Diana fans herself as she turns pale.

I know she hated saying every word. "Oh, dear, the church frowns at divorce." I sigh dramatically.

Underneath the desk, I feel Tom squeeze my hand lightly, but it doesn't deter the fire in Diana's hard gaze.

"How about we stay married for six months?" I suggest. "Celebrities stay even shorter than that."

"We're not those kinds of celebrities," Tom replies glumly.

I twirl a strand of my red hair with a finger playfully. "Really? I believe I saw you in a men's knickers ad last month."

He maintains a straight expression. "The contract has already been drawn, and we're not changing a sentence."

I glare at him. "So, you're already making my decisions for me, huh?"

"Don't act like you're getting the best bargain."

I wrinkle my nose and squint at him in disgust. "In what way?"

He leans back in his chair. "You go back to your boring life."

I open my mouth, and a soft gasp escapes, then I remember I'd prayed to be free from the life of changing diapers and singing lullabies.

Two points for Tom, I guess.

Inside my heels, my toes curl. No man has ever gotten on my nerves the way Tom did.

He was an arrogant and disrespectful bastard, yet I'm starting to see that, just like me, he was trapped in this situation too. Except for the fact that Tom thinks money is the key to everything.

"I don't have a good feeling about this contract," I say to him.

"Wonderful," Diana exclaims dryly.

"Okay, I'm sorry I didn't ask before," Tom replies. "But were you dating anyone or even planning?"

I pause for a second. "Well, there was..."

"I did have a girlfriend." He blurts. "Katie."

I roll my eyes, recalling the model he was usually spotted with on the streets. They didn't appear to be serious, considering he changed girlfriends like every other month.

"It was very difficult for me to end things with her for the baby," Tom admits, shifting uncomfortably as he continued. "Look, I'm not planning to cheat on you either, Gwen, and I don't expect you to do the same."

Somehow, I feel his tone implies he wouldn't want me ten feet near another man.

Did Tom really think he sounded like a protective alpha male while letting his mother run his life? The mommy's little boy energy from Tom and Diana was unbearable.

"Fine," I say tightly.

"Fine," he replies equally. "Because if you tell anyone outside this building about the contract, we're going to sue your ass."

* * * * * * * *

It takes ten days for Tom and me to pull off a shotgun wedding while excluding all extended family and friends at a courthouse.

"You may now kiss the bride," the judge instructs.

Hastily, I think of a way to evade, but Tom bends low, cups his face, and captures my mouth with his. His breath is minty.

A hot rush of excitement fills my body; it nearly knocks my breath away. Before I know it, I respond to his kiss.

Tom releases me, and from the strange look he gives me, I finally realize that I was the one who held on to that kiss.

Bollocks.

For the reception, we have dinner, and all they talk about is the furniture company.

I don't join in either; I feel a tremendous weight of tiredness.

After the dinner, I confront Tom on the balcony.

"So, when do we leave?" I ask.

"Leave?" He narrows his eyes. "I thought you didn't want a honeymoon."

A sharp pain pricks in my forehead. Maybe drinking three glasses of champagne had been a terrible idea.

"I don't. When do we move into your home or apartment?"

"Sorry, I'm not following."

"I have a lot of stuff back at my apartment, and I need to get started on the moving process before going back to work."

Tom's lips curl up. "So, move them here, Gwen. This is my house."

My vision blurs, and the entire balcony spins around me.

"But your mom...lives here."

"So?" Tom widens his eyes. "Oh hell, Gwen-"

The rest of whatever he says doesn't come to me, as I see the floor rising to hit my face, and then darkness sets in.

* * * * * * * *

My eyes fly open, and it takes a few seconds for me to realize I'm lying in a bedroom.

"Good morning, Mrs. Ciccotelli." Tom murmurs.

"Hrrnh?" I groan unintelligibly.

I sit upright the second I see Tom lying on a nearby couch, watching me with his arms folded, with a sleepy, amused look.

"You look like a ray of sunshine," he teases.

I squeeze my eyes shut as a headache flashes in my head. "Please... don't tell me that we..."

"Made love all night?" He asks. "No."

I push down the covers to see I'm wearing a blue bathrobe. "Did you really touch me?"

He barks a rich laugh. "Come on, Laura helped you change after you fainted from stress."

"You were supposed to catch me."

"Faint slower next time, and I will."

We look at each other. For two random married people, we were taking the whole thing quite well.

He moves to the bedside and hands me painkillers and the water bottle on the bedstand, which I quickly drink up.

Then I involuntarily cough out the water.

"Where's Mikey?" I ask frantically, searching the room.

"Relax, he's with the nanny," Tom says.

I sigh with relief.

"While you were drooling in your sleep," he says. "I was talking to a realtor."

"Oh, thank God, you're buying a house," I say.

He raises a brow. "Not exactly."

That evening, he drove us to an upscale building.

"Did you bring me in here to murder me?" I ask as I study the interior; there were so many shelves inside.

"No," Tom replies. "I was thinking you can show me your worth."

Tom quickly dodges a fist I aim at his face, staring at me as if I were the crazy one here.

"I thought I made myself clear to you that I'm not going to be a walking doormat," I hiss, while pointing at a huge tarp covering something big. "What is that?"

Tom moves past me, and in a neat move, he yanks the fabric away as the object comes into view. I wonder why, of all things holy in the world, it had to be this.