The trapped heiress

Holy freaking hell on a cracker. I’m staring at this contract like it’s written in ancient languages mixed with my worst nightmares, and I’m pretty sure that my brain is just blue-screened like an old computer. “You have six months to marry Adrian Kane or you lose everything.” Everything. EVERYTHING. I gasped as my coffee cup hit the floor of James Harrison’s office with a crash that probably costs more than my monthly grocery budget. “I’m sorry,what?” I screech, and James actually flinches behind his massive desk. “Did you just say I have to marry someone? Like, with rings and vows and till-death-do-us-part?” “The marriage clause is quite clear…” “Marriage clause?” I jump up so fast my chair rolls backward into a bookshelf. “Since when do wills have marriage clauses? What is this, the Olden days? Am I being sold to the highest bidder?” James just kept on adjusting his glasses repeatedly, which I’m learning means he’s about to drop another bomb on my already exploded life. “Mrs. Morrison, please sit down…” “Don’t Mrs. Morrison me! My husband is dead, James.He is dead ! And apparently he thought it would be super fun to play puppet master from the great beyond!” I’m pacing now, which is dangerous in heels this high, but I can’t stop moving or I might actually lose my mind completely. “Richard wrote this two years ago—” “Two years?” “He’s been planning this since we were basically newlyweds? But why didn’t he tell me?” I grab the contract and start reading it out loud because maybe if I hear it, it’ll make sense. Spoiler alert, it doesn’t. “Elena Morrison must marry Adrian Kane within six months of Richard Morrison’s death or forfeit all assets to designated charities.” I look up. “So he’s basically holding sick children hostage to force me into marriage!” “The psychiatric evaluations confirm—” “Oh, he was evaluated ?” I laugh, but it sounds more like a dying hyena. “Multiple doctors said he was sane when he wrote this insanity? Were they drunk? Were they also evaluated?” My hands are shaking as I flip through pages of legal nonsense that basically translates to “Elena is screwed.” And then I see the really fun part. “Power of attorney?” I whisper, because suddenly I can’t breathe properly. “He gets power of attorney over everything?” “For the first year of marriage, yes.” The contract falls from my hands like it’s on fire. “So not only do I have to marry a complete stranger, but I have to give him total control over my entire life for a year?” “It’s temporary…” “A year of some random man controlling every decision I make is fun” I think I’m having a panic attack. My chest feels tight, my vision is getting spotty, and I’m pretty sure I’m about to pass out in the most expensive law office in Manhattan. “Who is Adrian Kane anyway?” I gasp, clutching the edge of James’s desk. “What if he’s a serial killer? What if he collects women’s shoes? What if he’s one of those guys who puts pineapple on pizza?” “He’s Richard’s protégé…”he said, rolling his eyes to the back of his head. “That tells me nothing ! Richard collected vintage wine and read philosophy for fun. His taste in people could be questionable!” I’m spiraling. I know I’m spiraling, but I can’t stop. “What if he has weird fetishes? What if he makes me wear matching outfits? What if he’s one of those people who puts the toilet paper roll on backwards?” “Mrs. Morrison…”James said again angrily . “What if he tried to murder me on our wedding night? I was about to go on when the door opened and Adrian Kane walked in like he owns the building. Which he now probably does. Oh. Oh no. This is so much worse than I thought. Adrian Kane isn’t just handsome ….he is devastatingly, heart-stoppingly, brain-meltingly gorgeous in a way that makes me forget my own name. He is tall,broad and perfectly put together in a suit that probably costs more than my car, with dark hair and gray eyes that seem to see right through me. He looked like a Greek god to be honest. And I’m standing here like a crazy person who just had a complete meltdown about toilet paper orientation. “Elena.” His voice sounded deep and smooth and did absolutely inappropriate things to my nervous system. “I’m sorry for your loss.” I blink. Once. Twice. My brain is making static noises. “You’re Adrian Kane,” I say stupidly. “I am.” “You’re…” I gesture vaguely at his entire existence. “You are real.” Something that might look like amusement flickers across his face. “Very real.” “You want to marry me.” “I want to keep you alive.” And then he shows me photos that make my knees give out completely. Richard’s car was totally destroyed . “Someone murdered your husband,” Adrian says while I’m having another existential crisis. “And now they’re coming for you.” “Murdered?” Richard was murdered?”. “We believe so.” I sink into the chair, my brain trying to process that Richard didn’t die in an accident. Someone wanted him dead. Someone cut his brake lines and watched him drive to his death. “Who would want to kill Richard?” I whisper. “We’re investigating. But whoever did this knows about the inheritance clause.” Adrian steps closer and I catch a whiff of his cologne, which smells like lavender and something very manly. “They’re targeting you specifically.” “Why me? “You’re Richard’s widow, meaning you inherit his billion dollar empire.” “Nevertheless, you’re a target.” Adrian checks his watch. “I’m moving into the penthouse tonight.” The world stopped for a moment. “Moving… in?” “I’ll arrive at eight with my belongings.” “You can’t just move in! That’s my home!” “It’s our home now.” Adrian pulls out a key ring- Richard’s keys, which makes my chest tight. “As of this morning, I legally own half of everything.” I stare at those keys like they’re venomous snakes. “You already took half?” “The contract went into effect the moment you were informed of its contents.” “But I haven’t agreed to anything!” “Your agreement isn’t required.” He says it so casually, like he’s commenting on the weather . “This is insane,” I whisper. “It is necessary.” Adrian moves toward the door, then pauses. “Elena, I know you’re scared. But Richard didn’t create this arrangement to trap you. Believe it or not he wants the best for you.” And then he left, leaving me alone with James and the smoking remains of my independence. James clears his throat. “Will there be anything else, Mrs. Morrison?” “Yeah.” I stand up on shaky legs. “I need a drink. Or ten. And maybe a lawyer who specializes in impossible situations.” “I am that lawyer.” “Then I need a miracle worker.” “I’m afraid those are in short supply.” I walk out of that office knowing my life as I knew it is over. In less than twenty-four hours, a gorgeous stranger will be living in my home, controlling my finances, and planning our wedding. And the absolutely worst part? The tiny, traitorous part of my brain that thinks Adrian Kane might be the most beautiful man I have ever seen. Yeah this is going to be a disaster.