Dumped My Cheating Husband, Married a s*x God

Chapter 12

Meet his family.

His family.

The family of Adrian Vale, the most sought-after bachelor in the city, the CEO of Vale Investments, the man who had somehow become my husband in less than forty-eight hours.

The words echoed in my head like a gong, loud and impossible to ignore.

"No," I said, the word tumbling out before I could stop it. "Absolutely not."

Adrian's expression didn't change, but I saw something flicker in his eyes—a shadow of disappointment, maybe, or challenge. I didn't care which. I couldn't meet his family. I couldn't sit across from his parents and pretend to be the doting daughter-in-law when I didn't even know his middle name. When I still wasn't entirely sure what color his eyes were in direct sunlight. When the most intimate thing I knew about him was how he sounded when he came inside me.

"I mean—" I backtracked quickly already rethinking the sharpness of my denial, my hands fidgeting with the strappy heels still dangling from my fingers. "I mean, we're probably going too fast, don't you think? Family meetings could wait. They should wait. Until later. Much later."

I forced a laugh, trying to make it sound light and casual, but it came out strained and hollow. Like a wind chime in a hurricane.

Adrian watched me with that unnerving stillness of his, the kind that made me feel like he could see straight through my skin and into the panicked mess of thoughts swirling inside my head. "There's nothing too fast about it," he said calmly. "I've already told them."

My grip on the heels tightened until the thin straps bit into my palm. "You what?"

"I told my parents. Last night." He said it as casually as if he were commenting on the weather. "They're very eager to meet you."

Very eager to meet you.

I stared at him, my mouth hanging open, my mind completely blank. They'd only been married for—what? One day? Barely twenty-four hours had passed since we'd stood in some government office, signed papers, and exchanged vows that felt more like a business transaction than a declaration of love. And he'd already told his parents?

What the heck was going on?

"Adrian," I said, my voice coming out higher than I intended, "we've been married for one day. One day. Do you understand what that means? Twenty-four hours ago, I didn't even know you. I called you 'Mr. Vale'. Just a potential investor. And now you want me to meet your parents?"

Damn it, I still don't even know him, and family? Parents? What the hell is he even thinking?

"Yes." He simply replied. The single syllable was so calm, so matter-of-fact, that I wanted to scream. I wanted to throw the heels at his head and demand he explain what planet he was living on, because it clearly wasn't the same one as me.

"I have work tomorrow," I said quickly, grasping at the first excuse that came to mind. "I can't just drop everything and go meet your parents. I have meetings. Deadlines. The Solenne Collection launch is coming up, and I need to—"

"Apply for a week's leave," Adrian interrupted, his tone still infuriatingly serene. "Both of us. We'll be leaving for our honeymoon in three days anyway. There's no point going back to work for two days only to leave again."

I opened my mouth to argue, but he had a point. A frustrating, logical point that I couldn't refute without sounding like I was making excuses. Which I was. But still.

"But Lily—" I started.

"Lily can handle it." Adrian stood up, walking toward me with slow, deliberate steps. "She's your assistant. That's her job."

"But the clients—"

"Can wait."

"But—"

"Selena." He was in front of me now, close enough that I could smell his cologne—something dark and woody, like cedar and something else I couldn't name. He reached out and took the heels from my hand, setting them gently on the coffee table. Then he took both my hands in his, his thumbs tracing slow circles over my knuckles. "If we meet my family tomorrow, and everything goes well..."

He paused, and I held my breath without meaning to.

"...we can leave for Italy before schedule." His voice dropped lower, intimate and coaxing. "And I can arrange for you to meet Ana Lee. The day before the auction."

My heart stopped.

Meet Ana Lee. The Ana Lee. He was offering to introduce me to her? In person?

"You're lying," I whispered, my voice barely audible.

"I'm not." His thumbs continued their slow circles, warm and steady against my skin. "I know her. We've done business before. If I call her tomorrow and tell her my wife is one of her biggest admirers, she'll make time."

My wife.

The words hit me like a physical blow, knocking the air from my lungs. He'd said it so naturally, so effortlessly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. As if I really were his wife in every sense of the word, not just on paper.

"You know Ana Lee," I repeated, my voice hollow. It wasn't a question. I was just trying to process the information, to fit it into the rapidly shifting landscape of my reality.

"I do."

"And you'd introduce me to her."

"I would."

"The day before the auction."

"Yes."

I looked up at him, searching his face for any sign of deception. But Adrian Vale didn't lie. He didn't need to. He was the kind of man who got what he wanted simply by wanting it, who bent the world to his will with nothing more than a look and a few well-chosen words.

And right now, he wanted me to meet his family.

I should have said no. I should have stood my ground, insisted on boundaries, reminded him that this was a business arrangement and business arrangements didn't involve family dinners and honeymoons and introductions to legendary designers. I should have protected myself, built walls, kept my distance.

But the image of Ana Lee's workshop flashed through my mind—her hands moving over delicate settings, her eyes sharp and discerning as she examined a piece under magnification. The chance to watch her work, to ask her questions, to learn from the woman who had shaped so much of my own design philosophy...

"Fine," I said, the word escaping before I could stop it. "Tomorrow. Your family."

Adrian smiled, and it was the kind of smile that made my knees weak. "Good."

"But I'm not dressing up," I added quickly, trying to reclaim some semblance of control. "And I'm not pretending to be someone I'm not. If your parents don't like me, that's their problem."

"They'll love you," he said, releasing one of my hands to tuck a stray strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers lingered against my cheek, warm and impossibly gentle. "How could they not?"

I didn't know what to say to that. I didn't know what to say to any of this. So I did what I always did when I felt overwhelmed—I retreated into practicalities.

"What time?" I asked, stepping back slightly so his hand fell away from my face. "Tomorrow, I mean. What time are we supposed to be there?"

"Lunch. My mother likes to host family lunches on Saturdays."

"Saturday." I counted the days in my head. "So that's... tomorrow."

"Yes."

"And where do they live?"

"The family estate. About an hour outside the city." He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, tapping something on the screen. "I'll have my driver pick us up at ten. That gives us time to prepare."

Prepare. As if I could prepare for meeting the parents of a man I'd married on a whim. As if there were any amount of preparation that could make me seem like a suitable wife for Adrian Vale.

"I don't have anything to wear," I said, gesturing vaguely at the shopping bags still scattered around the coffee table. "None of this is appropriate for meeting parents."

Adrian's gaze dropped to the transparent camisole still peeking out of one of the bags, and his lips curved into a smile that was decidedly not appropriate for the conversation we were having. "No," he agreed, his voice dropping to that low register that made my stomach flip. "It's not."

"Don't look at me like that," I said, my cheeks heating. "We have a deal. Family first, then Italy."

"I remember." He pocketed his phone and stepped closer again, close enough that I had to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. "But that doesn't mean I can't look."

"Adrian—"

"Get some sleep, Selena." He cut me off gently, pressing a kiss to my forehead that was so tender it made my chest ache. "Tomorrow will be a long day."

He turned and walked toward the bedroom before I could respond, leaving me standing in the middle of the living room surrounded by shopping bags and confusion and the lingering scent of his cologne.

I looked down at my hands, still warm from where he'd held them. Still tingling from the memory of his thumbs against my knuckles.

What am I doing?

I'm Selena Hale. CEO of Hale Designs. A woman who had single handedly taken over her father's company, who had survived a cheating husband and a divorce and the humiliation of being played for a fool. I was strong. I was independent. I didn't need anyone—certainly not a man who bought me transparent lingerie and demanded I meet his parents after one day of marriage.

And yet...

Some traitorous part of me wanted this. Wanted the family lunches and the honeymoons and the chance to meet the designer who had inspired my entire career. Wanted the man who looked at me like I was the only thing in the room worth seeing.

I pressed my forehead my palm and closed my eyes.

I'm in so much trouble.