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.

GWEN

"Thomas, where did you get all of these?" I exclaim at the glass cases containing all kinds of jewelry made up of every gemstone in the world!

I even look out the window, wondering if we're being watched.

"I called a major supplier," Thomas replies.

As much as I'm too dazed to respond, I begin calculating the profits in my head until I reach one conclusion.

Millions.

"Absolutely not!" I blurt in disbelief.

Tom's mouth folds down; he looks disappointed and slightly confused.

"I beg your pardon?"

"What is your angle, Tom?" I demand, "No one in their right mind would offer this kind of asset for free. Tell me, are the gems conflict-free? Or are you trying to set me up?!"

Tom breaks into a slow, almost cruel smile. "I like you, Gwen, because you're smart enough to see through me," he admits. "Yes, there's a catch, nothing too serious. Nobody wants to hear that a Ciccotelli wife is just an ordinary sales assistant. She will be the sole owner of her business."

I take a deep breath. I've always dreamed about the day when I wouldn't rely on commissions, and now an opportunity is being presented on a platter.

"My mother was against giving this building to you." He steps closer to me; his cologne envelopes my senses. "But I insisted. So, a controlling share will go to the family's trust, but you can name the store whatever you want."

Like Eve reaching for the forbidden fruit, I agree to the offer.

The risk doesn't matter; I'll be getting more money after the divorce, and I'll use it to find Gennie before that bloody private investigator does.

Two weeks later, Gemini Jewelers officially opened to the public.

"That is a lot of zeroes," I whisper in excitement as I read the sales report on my tablet.

It feels strange being wealthy overnight. I wonder how Tom walks freely without looking over his shoulder.

Speaking of which, I notice a man glancing at me while checking the earrings section. All my assistants are too busy attending to customers, so I approach him.

"Is there a problem, sir?" I ask.

He eyes me curiously. "What's it like to be Tom Ciccotelli's wife?"

I wonder if Tom sent him to test me.

Ah, he'll never get the best of me.

I flash him my best customer service smile. "Absolutely wonderful."

Before I can walk away, the man utters. "Don't let him fool you."

My heart races. "What?"

"Tom's nothing but a crook." The man remarks lightly with a dark stare that sends a chill down my spine.

"Who are you, and how dare you talk about Tom in that way? Leave before I call security." I threaten, pointing at the door behind him.

"Adam Richardson," he introduces, while handing me a card. "How do you think Ciccotelli got so rich and famous?"

"I heard they come from a long line of Italian royalty."

Adam's eyes lift upward and back at me, this time with a sharp look. "He and his wretched mother stole all of my designs."

The atmosphere becomes still, and I place my hand over my chest to relieve my beating heart.

"Where's your proof?" I lift my head, but Adam is already moving out of the store. I sprint after him, but he's climbing into a black Camaro. "Mr. Richardson?"

He flashes a thumb and little finger to his ear. "Call me."

Then the car disappears down the road. I look at the card again, and there's a number on it.

"Terrific."

That evening, Tom and I sit at dinner alone, as Diana is currently out of the country.

When I look up from my meal, I discover Tom watching me.

"What?" I shrug.

"Nothing," he says. "I gave you a business start-up, yet you look miserable."

"It's not that," I reply. "The CEO of Aspen Designs dropped by the store today."

Tom, in the middle of chewing, begins to cough profusely, and his eyes grow wide.

Could Adam Richardson be telling the truth?

"What did Adam say?" Tom asks after recovering.

"Nothing," I lie. "He was just window-shopping."

Tom's instant look of relief doesn't restore comfort to my legs shaking under the table.

"Listen, if Adam comes back, don't sell him anything," Tom warns.

"Why?"

"Because I said so."

"You can't earn your profit if I chase clients away."

Tom drops his fork with a clatter and gives me a serious look. "How do I explain this gently? He's psychotic. Adam's been on trial for attempted murder."

My heart drops into my stomach, and I sit straight with my mouth open. "Who-"

"Gwen, for God's sake, don't you watch the news?"

"No, Tom. I've been too busy raising your child."

A few moments later, we move to Tom's office, where, on his computer, he shows me news articles about Adam standing trial for the murder of his ex-wife, McKenna.

"Somehow, the court ruled the case a suicide, and Adam suddenly became a hero. He even wrote a New York Times bestseller on it." Tom tells me. "I doubt he's innocent."

"Why?"

Before Tom can answer, a loud wail echoes from the baby monitor in my pocket.

We hurry into the nursery, and I pick Mikey up in my arms.

"Shh, it's okay, little bugger," I whisper.

Tom frowns. "Where's the nanny?"

"Probably in the bathroom or something," I guess. I pull back Mikey's nappy. "He's dry. Can you hold him while I get his bottle?"

"No, wait-"

Before Tom could finish speaking, I gently pushed Mikey into his arms.

"I don't like holding crying children," Tom hisses, looking terrified.

"He's your son. You need to carry him one of these days."

After I get Mikey a bottle, he drinks up a little water, and his cries finally simmer down as Tom rocks him.

From the way Tom stares at Mikey fondly, I feel a slight happiness as I imagine a moment where he and Genevieve had talked to Tom about the baby, and it would be the two of them, married and fussing over Mikey.

Until my mouth slowly curls down as a sting claws inside of me. Then, I would just be on the sideline.

Shit, how could I be jealous of Genevieve?

"Hurry, before he cries again," Tom pleads.

Two hours later, I twist and turn in bed, unable to find rest. I can't stop thinking about what Adam said.

It's funny how Tom and Adam don't trust each other, but stealing ideas isn't uncommon in the corporate world. Tom doubting Adam's innocence was a little strange.

Maybe he wanted Adam out of the way back then.

"Bollocks," I whisper.

I climb out of bed and tiptoe out of my room. The empty and quiet hallway makes me feel uneasy.

Thankfully, I'd noticed Tom didn't lock the office after we left. While inside, I begin to check every drawer for anything that leads to Adam's claims.

Click.

I turn to see the doorknob jiggle; I slam a palm over my mouth and quickly crawl under the desk as my heart speeds up. The door creaks open.

GWEN

Let me make it clear, I've never been what anyone would call a 'bad girl'.

Gen had all the rebel genes, while I covered her ass from trouble every day since primary school.

Until now.

My armpits feel damp, and my entire body shivers. Oh, dear God, I hope it's the nanny who's secretly robbing Tom.

Someone clears their throat in a deep guttural way.

It's Tom.

That's much worse.

I hear him hum a hip-hop song, and grit my teeth as he settles into his chair, leaning back into the hardwood side of the desk while staring at his long legs. I wipe the sweat off my forehead and suppress the urge to exhale with frustration.

It's impossible to imagine how the movies make spying so easy. I could already imagine the worst-case scenarios, like Tom finding a legit reason to get me out of the picture.

"Hello?" Tom says. "No, this is your boss, Emily. Did you organize my meeting notes already? I don't want to miss any details for the upcoming one."

Silence.

I shut my eyes as I realize he wasn't talking to me.

"No, I'm not going to apologize to the Tanaka Group. What's wrong with saying I did jiu-jitsu as a kid? It was a fucking icebreaker. Everyone laughed. You need to learn to read a room."

A snort escapes from my lips before I can stop it. My hand covers my mouth too late.

Maybe he's too distracted to have heard that.

Tom's foot brushes against my thighs and ducks his head under the desk, with a phone pressed to his ear.

Our eyes meet.

I think about fainting, just dropping to the floor like last time, but Tom and I end up doing the worst staring contest in history.

"See you at work, Emily," he says and raises his head. "Are you going to keep sitting there all night, Mrs. Ciccotelli?"

My shoulders slump, but I crawl out, bumping my head on the table top.

"Ow," I murmur.

I push myself past his legs, grabbing his thigh for support.

This humiliation is worse than the time I covered for Gen and had to spend the day writing 'I must not call my teacher a shithead' in my notebook.

"Could you at least move?" I groan and let out a small breath as I come face-to-face with Tom.

He gives me a straight look. "Well, I'm not planning to make this comfortable for you, Mrs. Ciccotelli."

My belly twists into knots. "Please don't call me that. We're not in the fifties."

Sometimes the best way to avoid conflict is to run.

I start to jog for the door, only for Tom to grab my hand and drag me back. I collided with his broad chest. His gaze is hard and furious.

Anger bites into my chest.

"Use your words not your paws, you absolute jerk" I hiss.

"What the hell are you doing in here?" He asks. "Don't come in here unless I tell you to. Did you take anything?"

I pull myself free and grip my fists. How can he be so infuriating?

Something catches my eye, and I sweep past him to grab my phone off his desk. Tom's eyes flicker with confusion.

"I left this behind," I raise the smartphone. "I wanted to text my best friend in London. You should at least check for evidence before accusing me of stealing!"

Tom hesitates from speaking, and I nearly wheeze with relief.

Good, get him distracted.

"Why were you hiding?" He asks.

Damn it.

"Who's Emily?" I toss back.

Tom closes his eyes and rubs his forehead. "Hey, don't get jealous, and Emily's my executive assistant-"

I let out a sharp gasp. "I am not. Why would I be?"

"Because I saw the way your eyes flared up when you asked that question. Your voice is a dead giveaway." He answers. "You're jealous. "

My mouth hangs open, not because Tom is dead wrong, but because he could read my body language.

Tom's lips crook up and his eyes light up with humor that sends a warm ripple through my stomach.

Danger fills the air, along with desire.

He steps closer to me. Tall. Mediterranean. Our eyes lock.

"But you don't have to worry a damn thing, Red." He reaches for my hair and neatly tucks it behind my ear, goosebumps swell on my skin.

I don't like this at all. How he makes me feel as if I were a secondary school girl again.

"Till death do us part," he whispers.

I shake my head. "You are so-"

His mouth lowers over mine. Just a breath away. Mine parts open.

My heart vibrates in a hard rhythm.

Okay.

Just this once.

It feels like fire surging through my body; his tongue clashes with mine, seizing control. My arms wrap around his shoulders, and my fingers curiously grab his thick hair.

His hands glide down my back smoothly and guide me into his firm body.

Resisting this man is futile. Every inch of my mind begs to stop this madness, but my body wants more. Through the fabric of his pyjama bottoms, his rigid arousal grinds against my stomach.

"Tom." I pull away, my chest heaving up and down. I bite down on my lower lip. His eyes flutter, and I see desire through them.

"You're very good at this." He releases his hold on me, and somehow I feel the pull of a magnet wanting to reach again.

I raise a brow. "At what?"

"Kissing," he replies. "At the wedding. I swore it was formal, but you wanted more. Didn't you?"

I swallow deeply. "Oh, come on."

While turning around to get away from him, Tom moves faster, and circles me.

"Aren't you a bit curious?" Tom asks.

"That smooth talking isn't going to work on me," I reply.

But he is right. I pull my hand away and frantically hit the edge of the desk.

I can't believe how clumsy I am at this moment.

"Then let your body do the work, Gwen," he says.

He lunges forward and grabs my waist. I hold my breath as he pushes his mouth to my neck, and I let out a small moan.

Tom's fingers slip under my night shirt. My breath slows down as he draws lazy fingers up until they find my breast.

Then the world went crazy.