Holiday Hoax: Chapter 7

My half-packed suitcase lies open on my bed. I keep adding things and taking them out.

What do you take for a month at someone’s house when you don’t even know the people whose place it is?

I barely know Sebastian.

I’m marrying a guy I barely know.

What is wrong with me? I shouldn’t be doing this.

More guilt fills me, and my feet grow colder.

I’ll always have to tell any future guys I date that I’ve been married before.

What will I tell them? The truth?

That’s going to showcase the good parts about me.

I’m sure Sebastian will have a confidentiality clause in the prenup. Does that mean I’ll have to lie for the rest of my life?

It’ll be annulled.

It’ll still be on record that I was married.

I need to get out of this.

My phone rings, and I glance at the screen, then answer, ‘Hey, Melanie. How are you feeling?’

‘Much better today. No one’s puked in the last twelve hours!’ she chirps.

I wince and hold my stomach. The mere thought of vomit makes me want to gag. I reply, ‘That’s good.’

She continues, ‘I thought we could reschedule Thanksgiving for next Saturday. It gives us a week to completely heal, and we can still celebrate the holiday?’

‘That sounds—’ My mouth turns dry. What am I going to tell her?

‘What’s wrong?’ she questions.

‘I won’t be in town until after New Year’s,’ I blurt out.

‘Why? Where are you going?’ she asks.

I take a minute, then state, ‘Sebastian has work he has to do at his family’s ranch, so I’ll be staying there.’

Silence fills the line. She finally clears her throat and inquires, ‘Sebastian?’

‘My boss.’

‘Yes. It’s the first time I haven’t heard you call him Mr. Cartwright,’ she points out.

My face heats. I quickly lie, ‘He told me not to.’

She digs further, pushing, ‘Why the sudden change?’

My heart races faster. Melanie is my only friend in Dallas. I’ve never lied to her. Yet, I’m unprepared. I didn’t think about what I would tell her regarding this situation.

‘Georgia?’

I go further into my untruth, answering, ‘He said that since we’re going to be working closely together, I need to call him Sebastian. That’s all.’

‘Who else is going to his ranch?’

‘Why all the questions?’ I ask.

‘Why are you defensive?’ she retorts.

‘I’m not,’ I claim.

‘Then why do you sound it?’

I stay silent.

She repeats, ‘Who else from work is going?’

I take a few breaths, hoping she can’t hear me. I fess up. ‘It’s just me.’

Tension grows over the line until she lowers her voice and asks, ‘Are you having an affair with your boss?’

‘No! He’s an arrogant, rude man!’ I declare.

‘Then why is he taking you when you’re only the intern?’

Sebastian’s words from the first day I started ring in my ears. I remark, ‘He said hands-on experience is what Cartwright Enterprises is about and why people excel there.’

She dramatically whispers, ‘Georgia, does Sebastian Cartwright have the hots for you?’

‘No!’ I proclaim, but my cheeks burst with heat. The thought of sitting on his lap while sweat dripped down his pecs earlier today makes me shudder.

It’s going to be a long month not giving in to the temptation of doing naughty things with him. I can try to deny my attraction toward him all I want, but at the end of the day, I can’t lie to myself. Nothing about Sebastian, including his infuriatingly arrogant ways, is a turn-off. I wish I could say it was, but it’s not.

‘Are you sure? It seems odd to me,’ Melanie comments.

‘Yep, I’m sure. Anyway, I need to pack. Can I call you in a few days?’ I ask, needing to change the subject. I don’t want to risk violating the prenup before I even sign it. I’ve never been closer to making my dreams happen. I’m not going to ruin my chances by not controlling my mouth.

‘All right. But I want all the details,’ she states.

‘Melanie, it’s not like that,’ I claim.

She snorts. ‘Sure it’s not. Have a good trip.’

‘It’s not. Bye,’ I say and hang up. I glance back at my suitcase, and my worries haunt me again.

I take out my jeans, sweaters, and the dresses I packed and place them on my bed. Then I stare at them, questioning everything all over again. I consider calling Sebastian and begging him to tell me what kind of clothes people wear for the events we’ll be at, but my pride won’t allow me to.

He can deal with whatever I wear while I’m there.

He’ll make me go shopping.

I’m not using his credit card.

I repack the items on my bed into the suitcase, then look at my list.

Underwear and bras.

My stomach flips. I go to my drawer and open it, debating about what to bring.

How did he know I have granny panties?

Is it because he doesn’t see me as sophisticated as the women he dates?

Or sexy?

Of course I’m not. I’m simple, and they’re probably spectacular.

The thought hurts, but I know it’s true. After being called out by him about not knowing who he was, I researched him online. I’ve seen the women Sebastian takes to charity events. I’m nothing like them. They all look like they stepped out of the Dallas Country Club, ready for a magazine shoot. I wouldn’t know how to compete if I tried.

I’m not competing. This is strictly business, I remind myself.

I refocus on my panty drawer. More butterflies wake up in my belly. I pick up a pair of comfortable panties and a thong.

Why am I stressing over this? Sebastian isn’t going to see my panties.

We’ll be sharing a room. He’ll probably take it upon himself to go through my drawers.

New stress fills me. Sharing a room with Sebastian for a month isn’t something I thought about, but there’s no way we’d be able to stay in a different room if we’re married.

I’ll make him sleep on the floor.

I grab a mix of matching comfortable bra-and-underwear sets and sexy ones. I toss them in my suitcase, along with socks. Then I go into my closet and pull out an overnight bag. I set it next to my nightstand to fill with my toiletries the morning of departure.

Glad to have that out of the way, I go to the family room, grab my phone out of my pocket, and sit on the couch. I glance at the screen and gape.

Is he crazy?

There’s a slew of missed calls and text messages from Sebastian. I begin to read them.

Sebastian: The prenup’s in your inbox. I need to know immediately if there are any changes. Let me know.

Thirteen minutes later.

Sebastian: Why aren’t you responding?

Seven minutes later.

Sebastian: Hello?

Two minutes after.

Sebastian: This isn’t a good start to our marriage.

Four minutes after.

Sebastian: You do realize it’s Friday on a holiday weekend. If we need any changes—although we shouldn’t—time is running out.

One minute later.

Sebastian: I’m going to spank you for not responding to me.

My insides quiver, and butterflies take off. Spank me? Is he into that? Something about it sounds horrifying, yet not. I clench my thighs, trying to imagine it.

Is that what he does to his women?

Do they like it?

Ten minutes later.

Sebastian: I meant it. Your peachy ass is going to be stained red with my hand mark.

Tingles race down my spine, and I swallow hard. I continue reading another message sent six minutes later.

Sebastian: Is something wrong with the prenup?

Sebastian: Are you intentionally ghosting me?

I laugh, toss my phone on the couch, and grab my laptop. I decide it’s best to let him sweat it out some more. I open the email and prenup.

Most of it is standard legal jargon. There are confidentiality and nondisclosure clauses. I read through them. It all seems normal.

I continue reading the terms. Everything is about what I have to or am not permitted to do, or I’ll default on the prenup and not get paid. Very conveniently for Sebastian, there’s nothing that says how he could default. I make a note of it and study the terms.

No cheating.

No talking bad about Sebastian.

Must engage in public displays of affection (PDA) and make it look real.

Must interact with family and friends at all times.

Since we’re not having sex, does he really think I’m going to go have sex with someone else with a ring on my finger?

Yeah, he probably does.

Well, he’s not having sex with anyone either. I wouldn’t put it past him to try. I’m not going to be made a fool.

What does interacting with his family mean? I need to have him clarify that. Is it every minute of every second I have to be with his family? Just at events? What? How is that even measurable?

The bullet point stating I can’t talk badly about Sebastian makes me roll my eyes.

That’s going to be difficult.

No, I can handle that one. Just have to remind myself every day to kill him with kindness.

I make a note to add that he defaults if he talks bad about me. This marriage is a two-way road, not a one-way lane.

PDA and make it look real. My flutters take off again, my heart races, and my pulse creeps up. We agreed to no sex, so what is this about?

This needs to be scratched from the list.

The last part states that $1,000,000 will be paid to Georgia Peach on January 2nd. The money will be deposited into my bank account as soon as the annulment papers are signed. The one I have my wages deposited into is listed.

My nerves creep up again, and my internal debate continues.

Am I really going to do this?

It’s a million dollars.

I can have my franchise. I can make everything happen now instead of waiting years.

Yes, I’m going to do this.

It’s not like I’m prostituting myself. Sebastian Cartwright is not touching me.

PDA clause.

I’ll get it removed.

I need to talk to him.

My cell phone rings, showing his name. Does he have ESP? I answer, ‘You need to have some patience.’

His deep drawl comes through the line. ‘Listen, Sunshine. We’ve only got a little time to get any issues resolved. You’re pushing it. Did you review the prenup?’

‘I’m reviewing it now.’

‘And?’

I point out, ‘You need to work on your patience since you texted and called me so many times.’

He grunts. ‘Whatever. What are your issues with it?’

My pulse creeps up. ‘For a start, this is a one-way prenup.’

‘No, it’s not. Both our names are on it,’ he claims.

‘Don’t patronize me. Everything is about what I can or can’t do. If there are ways that I can break the terms, then there need to be ways that you can be in breach too,’ I point out.

Silence fills the line.

‘I’m not signing if it’s not a two-way street,’ I declare.

‘Fine. What do you want to add to it?’ he asks.

‘I’m not allowed to cheat, but you’re not allowed to cheat either. You aren’t making a fool out of me,’ I proclaim.

‘I don’t have any plans of doing anything of the sort. I’m just going to be working all month,’ he replies.

‘Sure you will.’

His tone sounds like I offended him. He questions, ‘What’s that mean?’

I tell another white lie, ‘Nothing.’

He deeply exhales. ‘What’s your next issue, Georgia?’

‘Please clarify the not engaging with your family terms. What exactly does that mean?’

He answers, ‘It means what is stated.’

I huff. ‘Does it mean I don’t get a minute to myself all day long? Is it only for events? That’s subjective, so you need to clarify it.’

‘Of course I don’t mean that you can’t have a minute to yourself,’ he states.

I order, ‘Well, clarify it in writing or take it out. I’m not letting something subjective stop you from paying me.’

A few moments pass, then he caves. ‘I’ll have the attorney add that you need to be present at family events.’

‘Good.’

‘Next issue?’ he questions.

My butterflies spark to life again. I inquire, ‘What does engage in PDA mean, Sebastian?’

‘Are you really this technical?’ he quizzes.

‘Yeah, I am because I don’t trust you.’

He dramatically gasps, then asserts, ‘You don’t trust me, but you’re marrying me.’

‘Ha ha,’ I scoff.

‘Georgia, I’m not out to screw you,’ he claims.

It doesn’t appease my worries. This is Sebastian Cartwright. He’s known for his shrewd money skills. And he agreed to pay me way more than he wanted.

He adds, ‘The whole point of taking you is so you can act like a good little wife while I get my business done.’

‘We agreed to no sex,’ I remind him.

‘PDA isn’t sex.’

‘Then tell me what it is so I’m not surprised,’ I demand.

‘Really? Has no man ever shown their desire for you in public before? Or are you one of those women who has to keep everything on lockdown unless you’re in the bedroom?’ he arrogantly questions.

I shift in my seat. It’s not a secret Sebastian has way more experience than I do. I’ve never dated anyone who wasn’t a perfect gentleman. Something tells me there’s nothing gentlemanly about my future husband.

Scared, I blurt out, ‘Deal’s off.’

‘What? No,’ he says.

‘I said no sex.’

‘We’re getting married, Georgia. We’ll be newlyweds. We have to act like it in front of others. That’s not sex though,’ he states.

‘What does PDA mean to you, Sebastian? I want to be very clear and have it in writing,’ I restate.

‘You want me to put in writing what PDA means?’ he questions.

‘Yes, I do.’

He groans. ‘Okay, fine. What’s PDA to you, innocent woman?’

‘Insulting me isn’t going to get you anywhere,’ I warn.

He snaps, ‘Well, what is it?’

Embarrassment fills me. I confess, ‘I don’t know. Holding hands, kissing in public, hugging.’

‘Okay. Well, that’s what it means,’ he says.

‘Sebastian, I don’t want any of your games on this.’

‘Georgia, keep your panties on. Wait, maybe you shouldn’t keep your panties on,’ he teases.

‘See, this is exactly what I’m talking about,’ I tell him.

‘Calm down. I’m a man of my word,’ he claims.

Something about his statement doesn’t make me feel like he’s a man of his word. I’m not letting my guard down yet. ‘Spell it out in the prenup, Sebastian, or I’m not signing this.’

‘Fine. I’ll have the attorney spell it out. Anything else?’

‘When will I be able to review the annulment papers?’

‘You want to review the annulment papers?’

‘Yes.’

‘The annulment papers that annul that our marriage took place, which gives you a million dollars in your bank account?’ he questions.

‘Correct.’

In a frustrated tone, he inquires, ‘Georgia, why are you worried about the annulment papers?’

I admit, ‘I’m trying to do my due diligence.’

‘Listen, Sunshine. It’s Friday on a holiday weekend. I already had to jump through hoops to get my attorney to do this prenup. Now I need to go back to him and have him work on these amendments. You can review the annulment paperwork before you sign it, okay? I’ll give you plenty of time, but you can’t expect me to get him to draw up those papers this weekend,’ Sebastian remarks.

I consider his statement and decide he’s right. I concede but stipulate, ‘Then add in that if you don’t give me at least a week to review the annulment papers, then you’re in breach.’

‘Are you serious?’

‘Yes, I am serious, Sebastian.’

‘Fine, I’ll have it added. Anything else?’

I ponder it for a moment, then reply, ‘No. That’s it.’

‘Good. Now it’s my turn.’

Goose bumps pop out on my skin. ‘Your turn for what?’

‘My attorney and I will meet you at your place tomorrow. Then we’re leaving,’ he reveals.

My stomach dives. ‘I thought we were going Monday?’

‘Change of plans per my father. We’re expected for breakfast on Sunday morning, so that means we need to be there Saturday night,’ he informs me.

I stay quiet.

‘We can sign the prenup before we leave,’ he offers.

It’ll be real. There will be no turning back.

I blurt out, ‘Don’t we have to get married before we leave?’ I hadn’t thought about that detail yet.

‘No. The wedding will be the following Saturday,’ he announces.

The hairs on my neck rise. ‘With your family?’

His voice stays neutral. ‘Yes. You’ll plan it with my mother. It’ll make her happy. I’m sure all my sisters will stick their noses in as well.’

I fret, ‘You didn’t tell me your family would be present.’

His tone turns to annoyance. ‘You didn’t think I was going to marry you without my family there, did you? By the way, which of your family members do you want me to fly in?’

My heart squeezes so tight it becomes hard to breathe. I take a minute to answer. ‘I don’t have any family members I want there.’

He sternly claims, ‘Georgia, my parents will think it’s odd if your family’s not there. They need to be there.’

I squeeze my eyes shut and try to keep emotion out of my voice, but I can’t. It shakes as I admit, ‘Sebastian, I don’t have any living relatives.’

Silence fills the line. He finally clears his throat and asks, ‘What are you talking about?’

‘Don’t make me repeat it,’ I beg.

To my surprise, Sebastian doesn’t push it. He finally states, ‘Okay. It’ll just be my family, then. Well, that and probably the whole freaking town.’

‘The town?’ I blurt out.

‘Chill. They don’t matter,’ he orders, but it doesn’t calm my nerves. He adds, ‘I’ll send over the new revisions as soon as I get them. Make sure you reply to my messages.’

‘Okay.’

‘I’ll see you at noon tomorrow. Be ready to leave after we sign,’ he directs and hangs up.

I stare at my phone with my stomach diving.

What am I getting myself into?