Chapter 1
My marriage to Alexander Reed started with a betrothal our parents arranged when we were babies, and it died because of his damn eight-pack and that V-line.
The first time I ran, I was three months pregnant, and I left him a signed divorce agreement on my way out.
Less than a week later, he cornered me on a beach in Paradise Isles.
He talked me into coming back with a whole lot of self-control and even more tenderness.
And I bought every word of it.
Now I looked at my six-month-old son in his crib, then at the man beside me, whose eyes were getting more dangerous by the day.
I decided to run again.
This time, I swore, I wouldn't look back even if he chased me to the ends of the earth!
Well, I wouldn't.
*****
My marriage to Alexander Reed had to be the most half-baked arranged marriage of the century.
On my twenty-fifth birthday, my mom pulled out a yellowed sheet of paper and told me I had a fiancé, one our parents had picked out before either of us was born.
He was Alexander Reed, the man running Reed Holdings.
He was the stuff of legend, six-foot-one, unfairly gorgeous, and so terrifying that people said nothing could survive within ten miles of him. One look from that man could freeze a person into an ice sculpture.
And me? I was Lily Nolan, five-foot-three, a lazy artist who paid the bills with her drawings. My one redeeming quality was that I was pretty cute.
He and I were supposed to be a couple? Seriously?
My mom might as well have sent me off to slay a dragon.
I fought it hard, but my mom shut down every escape route with one sentence.
"Alexander's grandftaher, Jasper, is dying, and the only thing he wants is to see you two married. He spoiled you rotten when you were little. Could you really let him down?"
Honestly, I could have.
But I didn't dare say so.
So three days later, I was standing outside city hall with a man I'd only ever seen in business magazines.
Alexander, in person, hit even harder than Alexander on a glossy cover.
His tall frame filled out a tailored suit to perfection, with broad shoulders, a narrow waist, and legs that went on forever. He was pure walking testosterone.
His face was handsome enough to make people angry about it, but the chill coming off him was terrifying, as if someone owed him eight million dollars.
He handed me a pen, his voice cold enough to freeze the air.
"Sign it," he said.
I gripped the pen with a palm slick with sweat.
I stole a glance at him. He was looking down at the paperwork, his long lashes casting shadows under his eyes, the line of his profile sharp and clean.
The little voice inside me started screaming its head off.
Oh my god, this man was too damn hot to be legal!
I could feel a nosebleed coming on.
I was wet.
I ducked my head fast and scrawled my name.
When the clerk slid our marriage license across the counter, I saw it plain as day. Alexander's hand shook as he reached for it.
His fingers were long and elegant, but his knuckles had gone white from gripping too hard.
Wait. What was that?
So the iceberg CEO got nervous, too?
Whatever reluctance I'd been holding onto vanished, replaced by a sudden itch to mess with him.
License in hand, we walked out of the city hall.
"Mr. Reed," I said, tilting my face up and putting on my sweetest, most harmless smile, "we're husband and wife now. Be nice to me, okay?"
He gave me a grunt, his eyes wandering everywhere except my face.
I rose onto my toes, leaned in close to his ear, and whispered in a voice only the two of us could hear, "Honey."
His whole body went rigid.
I watched with satisfaction as the tips of his ears flushed red, and the color raced down his neck within seconds.
I bit back a laugh while the little devil in my head rolled around on the floor, howling.
So the ruthless boss was a total innocent when it came to women.
This marriage wasn't such a bad deal after all.