"You look like you're attending a funeral, not an engagement dinner."
I looked up from smoothing down my emerald silk dress to find Jade leaning against my doorframe. "Same thing, really," I muttered, checking that the concealer had covered the hickeys on my neck.
"At least try to fake a smile," Jade said, adjusting my hair. "You're supposed to be a blushing bride-to-be, not a hostage."
"I am a hostage."
My phone lit up with a text from my dad: Car is waiting. Do not embarrass me.
"Text me if you need a fake emergency," Jade called as I left.
The drive to the Hamptons took an hour. Three black luxury cars already sat in my father's circular driveway. The McAllisters had arrived early.
My father met me in the marble foyer, gripping my elbow hard.
"You will smile at that boy like you're madly in love with him, understand? Michael McAllister is my ticket to keeping the FBI off our backs. Don't fuck this up."
The dining room was excessive with a table for twenty set for eight of us, crystal chandeliers, orchids, unnecessary silverware and standing by the windows was Richard McAllister, our eyes meeting across the room. His jaw was tight, shoulders tense. He looked like he wanted to bolt.
The feeling was mutual.
"Summer!" Catherine McAllister glided toward me all petite, blonde and diamonds in trendy designer clothes, accompanied by a smile that never reached her eyes.
"Mrs McAllister —"
"Stop that darling, We're going to be family! You're even more beautiful in person."
Michael McAllister stepped forward next, he was tall with grey eyes that looked like he was calculating my worth. Former CIA director, current presidential candidate, the man who'd brokered this arrangement with my father.
"And of course, this is Richard." Catherine pushed her son toward me.
When our hands touched, electricity shot through me. His thumb brushed against my palm before I pulled away quickly.
The seating was strategic, and I ended up between Richard and my half-sister Autumn, who immediately turned her sugary-sweet attention to him.
"Richard, I'm Autumn. You're even more handsome in person."
"Thank you," Richard said coldly.
"When I heard about the engagement, I was shocked," Autumn continued, eyes sliding to me. "Summer never mentioned she was seeing anyone."
Michael cut straight to business. "We're thinking first week of October. Small exclusive ceremony with full media coverage. The optics are important."
"October?" I set down my fork. "That's less than a month away."
"The election is in early November. We need this wrapped up before campaign season peaks. A beautiful wedding will humanize me to voters."
"How romantic," I said. "Getting married to humanize your poll numbers."
My father's eyes flashed a warning.
"And the prenup?" my father asked. "Your lawyers have the terms?"
"All drawn up. They'll sign next week."
"Excuse me." Richard's voice cut through. "Don't I get a say in any of this? You're planning my wedding like I'm not even here including the date, what I'm wearing, the fucking prenup terms. Has anyone considered asking what Summer and I want?"
"Richard," Michael warned.
"No. Let's be honest about what this is. You need campaign funding, Sam needs FBI protection, so you're trading us like assets. At least have the decency not to pretend it's anything else."
Silence.
"Well," Autumn said quietly. "At least you're both honest about hating each other."
Richard stood abruptly. "Excuse me. I need air." He walked out.
My father's eyes bored into me. "Go. Fix this."
"Fix what? He's right."
"Summer." His voice dropped to that deadly quiet tone. "Go talk to him now."
I fled to the bathroom, my hands shaking. Three weeks until I became Mrs. Richard McAllister and my entire life became a lie.
I splashed cold water on my face. I barely recognized the beautiful but hollow person looking back at me in the mirror.
The door swung open. Richard stood there, startled. "Shit. Wrong bathroom."
"You think?" I backed against the sink. "This is the women's room."
"The doors all look the same." But he didn't leave.
"I meant what I said out there," he said, stepping inside and closing the door. "This whole thing is bullshit."
"I know."
"I don't want this marriage any more than you do."
"I'm aware."
"Just so we're clear." He moved closer. "This arrangement means nothing."
"Crystal clear." But my heart was pounding.
His eyes dropped to my neck, to where the hickeys were hidden beneath makeup.
"You should go," I said.
"I should." He took another step closer.
"Richard."
"I know." But he kept moving until he was right in front of me, close enough that I could smell his cologne. The same scent from last night.
"Richard—"
His hand came up, covering my mouth gently. "Don't scream," he whispered.
His thumb brushed over my bottom lip and heat flooded through me. I grabbed his wrist, pulled his hand away, and kissed him before I could think better of it.
His response was even more intense as his hands dug into my hair and my hands clutching his jacket like it was my lifeline. He lifted me onto the counter, stepping between my legs. His mouth moved to my neck, over those hidden marks.
"We can't," I breathed, even as my hands went to his belt. "They're right down the hall."
"I know." His hands slid up my thighs, pushing my dress up.
This was insane, our families were twenty feet away but I couldn't stop. He pulled my underwear aside and pushed inside me, I had to bite down on his shoulder to keep quiet.
We moved together frantically, trying to be quiet and quick while his hands gripped my hips hard enough to bruise. This was angry, delicious and desperate, nothing like what sex was supposed to be.
But God, I couldn't get enough.
A knock on the door made us both freeze, the sensual haze clearing immediately.
"Summer?" Autumn's voice. "Are you in there? You've been gone forever."