Chapter 2

"No way I'm slowing down. If we get to the hospital too late, your leg wound might heal itself, and then wouldn't that make this whole trip pointless?" George teased.

My face turned bright red as I huddled by the car door, giving him my best puppy eyes.

"Damn it! Don't look at me like that!" George snapped.

Even though he was swearing, he eased off the gas.

"Thank you," I choked out, my voice trembling.

"So, what was with the act today? Why'd you pull that stunt?" George asked, frowning.

What else could I say? I just had to be honest.

"I want to marry you," I said, my voice steady.

George was stunned by how serious I looked. "Huh! Didn't expect someone so small to have such big ambitions!"

He gave me another once-over, his frown relaxing. "But you know, tons of girls are lining up to marry me. If you want a shot, you'd better step up your game."

"Don't worry, I'm not letting go," I said with a grin. Following instructions was basically my superpower.

I grabbed onto the edge of his shirt and held on tight. His black shirt was open, showing off those chiseled abs.

George was too busy driving to deal with me. He panicked and slapped a hand over his waist. "What are you doing?"

A blush crept up his ears. I gave him my best innocent look. "Didn't you tell me not to let go?"

George cursed under his breath, "Shit."

I had no idea what it was about me that caught his eye. I wasn't nearly as gorgeous as Bonnie. But just three days later, George and I were officially married.

I didn't know why, and honestly, I didn't care.

All that mattered was that I ended up living in Bonnie's villa.

At first, George wasn't too thrilled about it, but if he wanted to get into my bed, the only condition was that we had to live with Bonnie.

George's face was stormy as he moved me into Jeffrey and Della's house on our wedding night.

George just drifted through life, never holding down a real job. He sponged off Jeffrey, so naturally, I ended up sponging off him too.

So Jeffrey was stuck working a single job to keep the three of us afloat.

Bonnie and I slipped right into the luxurious lives of rich wives, living it up without a care in the world.

I lost track of how many times I sprawled out on that leather couch, soaking in the smell of money, thinking that getting spoiled was a blessing.

I always said Bonnie was a genius, and following her lead was always the smart move.

Humming a little tune, I strolled through my massive 1,200-square-foot closet, organizing all my pricey clothes, shoes, and bags.

There were custom-tailored outfits, fresh-off-the-runway luxury pieces, and so many designer brands that my hands were about to go numb from all the sorting.

Five oversized suitcases were packed to bursting, and I'd only managed to tackle a tiny fraction of my stash.

Completely exhausted, I collapsed onto the floor and called Bonnie.

I said, "Bonnie, I've got way too many clothes. There's no way they'll all fit. Do you have any spare suitcases over there?"

"Are you actually packing by yourself?" Bonnie asked, sounding surprised.

"Yeah, didn't you tell me to pack?" I replied.

"I already booked a professional organizer. They'll be here any minute," Bonnie said.

"Oh." I finally remember I could have hired someone to help.

That just showed I couldn't live without Bonnie.

"Just pack your important documents and the jewelry from the safe. The organizers will handle the rest," Bonnie said.

"Got it." I hung up and, following Bonnie's instructions, got a suitcase for my jewelry and important documents.

"What are you doing?" Suddenly, George's voice came from behind me, making me jump.

"Just packing up my stuff," I replied.

"Can't fit all your new clothes? Need me to move my stuff over a bit?" George asked.

He started taking off his jacket as he walked in to shift his things, even though his stuff only took up about one percent of the closet.

"No, it's fine. I'm moving out soon," I said, scratching the back of my head, feeling a little awkward. Honestly, George had always treated me well.

We'd been married for two years, and he'd never had any scandals or rumors about other women. Except for my time of the month, he never missed a night in our bed.

"Huh?" George's shirt was half-unbuttoned, showing off his sculpted collarbones and toned chest.

He caged me in against the watch cabinet, his arms on either side, muscles rippling. His handsome face brushed against my neck, a devilish smile playing on his lips.

He grinned. "Baby, you're finally ready to leave this place? Headed to our own place now? Want me to help you pack?"

I instinctively pulled back, hands landing on his bare chest. Damn, it was burning hot and solid as a rock.

"Actually, you've got it all wrong. Bonnie and I are moving out. Your brother cheated, so she's divorcing him," I said.

George straightened up, his expression stormy. "So?"

"I'm leaving with Bonnie, and we're splitting up too," I muttered, staring at the floor, my heart sinking.

His chest heaved, and George reached out, lifting my chin with those long fingers. His face went cold as ice, and his handsome brows twisted into something wild.

"Della, say that to me again if you dare!" he snapped.

I was way too chicken to repeat it.

But clearly, George was still pissed.

My pitiful cries for mercy lasted all night, right up until sunrise.

The next morning, I blinked open my puffy eyes and found myself staring at George's chest, covered in red scratch marks. His big hand was still wrapped tight around my waist.

As soon as he saw I was awake, George repeated the question he'd asked a hundred times last night. "Still want a divorce?"