Hazel had never felt so bare in her life. Without the thick layers of black shadow and dramatic eyeliner that framed her face earlier, she looked like her true self, soft and youthful, with clear eyes that reflected light like polished onyx. It was a far cry from the gothic look she wore when she first stepped into the club with panic in her chest and a reckless plan in her mind. Now she looked like a delicate bride who had wandered into the wrong fairy tale. She could not help thinking it was strange. A few hours ago she was fighting tears, ready to be sold to an old p*****t, yet here she stood with a marriage certificate in her hand beside a man she barely knew.
As Hazel looked up from her certificate, she found Logan watching her with a sharp gaze that seemed to slice through any attem
