Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 94915 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94915 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 475(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
It was a meaningless joke—
Right up until my arranged husband found it.
Now it’s his mission to check off Every. Single. Box….
The first time I meet my arranged husband, it’s a total nightmare.
His family is caught in a bloody civil war, and now is the worst time imaginable to get involved with a wicked man like him.
Julien Moreau might be gorgeous and built like a professional athlete, but he’s a vicious mafia lord and only cares about taking what he wants.
And just because I have the wrong parents, Julien thinks our match won’t work.
He takes one look at me and someone else.
I’m ready to walk away from this monster of a mistake, when he stumbles across the one list he was never, ever supposed to see.
Julien reads over all my filthy fantasies and everything about him changes.
Now he's down on one knee with my hands locked in his, and he you are going to be my wife, and I am going to make all your darkest desires come true.
Oh, absolutely not.
Am I seriously going to risk everything and marry this psychopath?
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
Chapter 1
Brianne
My virginity was never a topic of discussion back before I was going to marry a stranger.
Now it’s all I can think about.
“Don’t sit there and pretend like you aren’t nervous.” Kim leans against the boxing ring and takes a long sip from her glass of champagne. Nearby, a group of men laughs loudly and I swear one of them keeps staring at me. I look back but try not to let him know that I’m looking—is that my future husband? He’s not bad looking, if it’s him, but I really don’t know.
Which is obviously the problem.
“I’m totally fine,” I say, absolutely lying, because I’m definitely not fine. I’m somewhere between freaking the heck out and losing my mind. “Sex isn’t a huge deal, right? And it’s not like I’m going to marry this guy because I want to sleep with him.”
“But you will sleep with him, right?” Kim grins at me and stretches her neck. She’s pretty, with pale skin and light strawberry-blonde hair, and the kind of figure that guys obsess over. Kim’s technically blood-related to the Hayes family, though distantly. By contrast, I’m a brunette, I can actually tan in the summer, and I’ve been described more as “acceptably curvy” than anything else. And I’m not actually related to her, even though we pretend we’re cousins. None of that is a problem, since until right now, I never really thought too much about dating or men in general.
Unfortunately, because I am a raging moron with serious impulse control issues, I decided to skip over the whole normal dating thing and dove straight to getting hitched.
To a total stranger.
“I don’t know,” I admit and look down at my shoes. Basic flats that look decent with my tight black skinny jeans and a gray sweater that flatters my chest and hips. “I mean, I haven’t really thought that far.”
Again, absolutely lying, it’s all I can think about.
Kim knows me well enough to see through my crap, but she’s also aware of how stubborn I can be and decides not to press. Instead, she drinks more champagne before her face brightens up.
“Okay, I have an idea.”
“I’m already dreading it,” I say with a groan.
“No, it’ll be fun. Seriously, take out your phone.” She nods at me, fighting a smile.
Reluctantly, I hold it up. “If you’re about to tell me to take a slutty selfie, the answer is hell no.”
“Please, girl, you can’t take a flattering picture to save your life. No, open up your notes app. I want to make a list.”
I hesitate for only a second, but damn her, Kim knows me too well. I love a good list. I’m a total sucker for lists. I’ve been making lists my whole life: lists of all the books I’ve ever read (a whole lot), lists of my favorite foods, lists of jobs I’d want if I could do anything at all, lists of what I’d buy if I won the lottery, and on and on, endless lists. Kim used to think my lists were weird and boring, but I think she’s coming around to them.
“What’s the topic?” I ask warily, sensing a trap.
“Let’s make a list of all the sex stuff you’ve never done but want to try.”
Her grin is vicious. I glare at her, but a part of me starts thinking up ideas before I can even help it: deep-throat blowjob, doggy style, anal—no, definitely not anal—sixty-nine position…
“I’m not sure this is, uh, appropriate, given the setting.”
Kim snorts and gestures around us. “It’s the grand opening of a bar that features very illegal underground boxing matches. The original location burned to the ground after two gangs slaughtered each other in cold freaking blood. I think we can make this work.”
She’s right. Bloody Strike isn’t exactly the classiest place in the world. I’m grasping for any reason to get out of this. Missionary (no eye contact), eaten out from behind, reverse cowgirl. This grand opening party is filled with Hayes Group members, which is one of the larger Irish crime organizations in Chicago, plus all of their esteemed guests. Somewhere in here, Ronan Hayes himself, the head of the Group, is speaking with my future husband about me, and I have no clue when I’ll be introduced. That’s the reason Kim and I were invited at all; it’s why I’m leaning up against a rickety-looking boxing ring, surrounded by half-drunk gangsters and their dick-riding wannabe mob wives, feeling uncomfortable and nervous.
Normally, this isn’t my scene. I grew up with most of these guys and I learned early that they’re generally selfish assholes. My brother was deep into the Hayes Group, but Cormac’s dead now, thank fucking God for that. Unfortunately, my family name is more than a little stained due to my deceased sibling, which means I have to deal with a whole lot of stares from the Hayes Group members that hold a grudge.