Fake Marrying My Ex's Father-In-Law

TORIA'S POV “Let me make one thing crystal clear before we order. Once we’re married, you will delete every single male friend from your phone.” I looked across the table at the man sitting opposite me, fighting the urge to rub my temples. His name was Eric Huggins. He was thirty-two years old and wearing a cheap-looking suit that strained across his shoulders, with his hair slicked down with so much gel I could practically smell it from across the table. He had spent the last twenty minutes explaining why he was a catch. I had stopped listening after his third lecture about his leadership potential. Now he was laying out rules I’d have to follow as if I had any plans of marrying a meatball like him. My stepmother had spent the entire week forcing me to come on this blind date, insisting he was a great catch from a good family. Looking at him now, I realized my stepmother’s idea of a great catch was simply any man who had a job and wore a watch. Apparently, she had left out one important detail. He was delusional. I took a slow sip of cold water, keeping my face calm. “You sound very sure of yourself, Eric. Are you planning to delete all the women from your phone too, or does that rule only apply to me?” He gave a loud, mocking laugh and waved his hand as if I had said something adorable. “Come on, don’t talk like a child. Men and women are different in real life. I work in sales and marketing. I go out for drinks, make connections, and bring money home. Meanwhile, you have some entry-level office job that barely pays your bills.” He shrugged. “Once we tie the knot, you’ll quit that little job and stay home. Cook hot meals, keep the house clean, and look nice when I get back.” “And what do I get in return?” I asked sweetly, though my smile was stiff. “A respectable life, obviously. Stability. And most of all…” He gestured vaguely at the room. “My surname. You’re what, twenty-two? From what I understand, your family situation isn’t exactly impressive. This is a good deal for you.” There it was. The pity and condescension, wrapped up in a bow. You should be thankful someone like me would even look at someone like you. He didn’t have to say it out loud. “Let me make sure I understand,” I said. “I obey you, have no friends, no career, no life outside of you, but you’re free to do whatever you want.” “Naturally,” he said proudly. “Men need freedom to build something.” “And women don’t?” “Women build homes. Different roles, different rules.” “Fascinating.” I picked up my water glass, mostly to keep myself from throwing it at him. “So when you say different rules, you mean hypocrisy." His face went red. “Now listen here.” “No, you listen.” I set the glass down sharply. “If marriage means I lose my freedom while you keep yours, that isn’t a marriage. A real man doesn’t need to control his wife to feel like a man. He respects her as an equal. I’m not quitting my job, I’m not cutting off my friends, and I’m certainly not going to take orders from a man who needs a PowerPoint presentation to explain why he deserves respect. If you want a doormat, try a furniture store.” The silence that followed was deeply satisfying. Eric stared at me, and for a second, the shock showed on his face. Then he forced a smug grin, as if my words hadn’t landed. “You talk big for a young girl, but you don’t know anything about the real world. Women like you think you’re too good for commitment. You’ll end up alone, you know. Men don’t like women who argue.” “Then men who are threatened by women who stand up for themselves aren’t men worth having.” He laughed, cold and hollow. “You’ll regret this. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get a table here? People wait two months. I made one phone call. You should be thanking me instead of giving me attitude.” One phone call. Gosh, this man was insufferable. I let my gaze drift past him as he kept rambling, over the marble pillars and warm hanging lights, toward a quiet corner near the tall glass window. Then I saw him. Damien Rothwell. He sat alone at a table only a few tables away from us, drinking his wine while watching us with a cold, unreadable expression that made the air around me feel thinner. The wealthiest man in the city. My ex-boyfriend’s father-in-law. My heart slammed against my ribs. What the hell was he doing here? Of all places? The universe clearly had a sick sense of humor. Eric noticed me looking around and puffed out his chest, leaning over the table with a nasty grin. “Look at all these people. Most of them are rich old men with one foot in the grave. Lots of cash, sure, but they’re old, weak, and totally useless. Money can’t buy back youth, and that’s another thing I bring to the table.” His eyes dropped to my chest, and the sleazy look in them made my skin crawl. “A girl like you needs a young man who knows how to treat a woman, not some grandfather who goes to sleep at eight.” “I’m sorry?” “You know what I mean.” He lowered his voice, trying to make it sound deep and smooth, and his fingers brushed mine across the table. “Why are we wasting time on tiny plates of food? There’s a hotel just down the street. Let’s go there instead. Treat me well tonight, and I might overlook your bad attitude and take you out again this weekend.” That was the absolute limit. A wave of disgust washed over me, but my mind snapped into focus right behind it. I had to get rid of this man. I needed to. I kept my expression calm. “Let me think about it,” I said, standing up with my small purse in my hand. Eric grinned, thinking I had agreed. “Good girl. I knew you wouldn’t miss such an opportunity.” He started to rise from his seat, laughing. I didn’t give him a second glance. I turned my back on him and walked toward Damien, my heels tapping softly against the hard floor. Damien watched me approach with those dark eyes of his. He was even more striking up close. I didn’t let myself think about what I was doing. If I hesitated, I would lose my nerve. I got to him, placed my hand on his shoulder, leaned down, and kissed him. Behind me, I heard Eric’s chair scrape loudly against the floor.