The Unwanted Healer's Thirty-Day Fake Marriage

ing from the effort. The hinges groaned in protest. The air inside hit her face like a damp cloth-stagna

sive porcelain vase in the grand foyer. She glanced up as Cynthia walked in, took in the worn sneakers and the canvas tote bag, and rol

past it. She climbed the sweeping staircase, her shoes sinking into the thick Persian runner, swallo

tic and stale sicknes

ace, fogging and clearing with each shallow breath. The skin stretched over his cheekbones was thin as parchment, translucent, spider-webbed with broke

the plastic mask. Each word cost him. "You have to... marry well. It's the

ard, her own hands steady as she grasped his cold, bony fingers in both of hers. His skin felt like chilled paper.

oor clicked o

r posture so rigid it looked painful. Her hair was lacquered into an immovable helmet. She lifted a silk handkerchief to her eyes with the delicate,

ting or comfort, tossed a glossy manila folder onto the

ith saccharine, fake sweetness. "You will marry Julia

he cover-a soft-faced young man with vacant eyes and a slack, perpetually bewild

ord clipped and deliberate. "This isn't a marriage, Inger. You're selling me.

r face hardened into its natural state-a mask of pure, unvarnished

h school dropout from the backwoods of Appalachia. You have no education, no connections, no breeding, and no pr

into fists at her sides. Her voice droppe

ill pull

y locked solid. The blood in her veins

w, leisurely sip. The porcelain clinked against her teeth. "If you refuse the Astor boy, I will cut off the funding tomorro

rating into a frantic, panicked rhythm. Almon's chest heaved, his frail b

ng down with gentle, steady pressure, feeling the panicked flutter of his heart beneath her palm.

d Inger with a stare so venomous, so utterly devoid of fear or s

e felt the sharp sting, welcomed it. "Give me three days," Cynthia said, her

r designer skirt swishing against the hardwood. "Three days. Not a minute more." S

pty doorway, trapped in

tan, Dominic sat behind a massive, obsidian-black mahogany desk. The city sprawled beneath

and over. The thin chain caught the harsh white office light and threw it back in shar

s of his office bange

ked furiously against the polished hardwood floor-a sound that made lesser men flinch. She wore a pris

y. His hands fluttered uselessly at his sides. No one-no one-stop

the bronze nameplate. The folders burst open on impact, sending photographs of wealthy, pedigree

corner office. She jabbed a bony, diamond-laden finger at the scattered photos. "Pi

feathering beneath the sharp plane of his cheek. "I am not participating in

a wife-a suitable, acceptable wife from a proper family-I will freeze ev

furiating calm, his expression entirely deadpan.

ensive silk fabric over her chest with both hands. Her face contorted in what might have been agony or might have been an award-worthy performance. She co

this performance. He had seen it a hundred times. He hated it with every fiber of his being. But her actual heart condition-the very r

e silver bracelet onto the center of the desk. It landed with a soft,

ominic said, his voice dropping to a cold, fin

to the bracelet with the laser focus of a hawk spotting prey. She snatched it off the desk with startling speed, holding it u

ee days to find the buyer of this piece. It's limited edition, custom artisan.

cked, and he practically sprinted