3^rd POV

1^st POV

Prologue

The Gazette: Money. Money. Money. It’s all about the money. Isn’t that what Daddy told you? If you are not married and need to be, help is on your doorstep. References available. Send your confidential request through The Gazette, Box 251.

“You can’t seriously think to answer that ad. It’s a scam.” Carson Hill tossed the offending paper in the trash and confronted his friend, Drew Butler. Memories of his own disaster a decade ago surfaced like dead fish in buoyant salt water. The situation smacked him in the head as remarkably familiar.

“What choice do I have?” Drew bit out. “My father has an appointment with the attorneys next week. I need a bride fast. And one who won’t take me for every cent I stand to inherit. No sex is also part of the contract.”

“Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.” But Carson got it. Their dads had formed a club when they were in college. There had been a fucking pact. The controlling bastards.

“Besides, it’s too late. I responded to the ad last week. She sent over the contract. I sent it back with a few modifications.”

“And the references?”

“I checked them out. They appear legitimate. Very discreet.”

“Jesus, Drew. Anyone can provide you discreet references.” Carson was furious with—no, for—his friend, at the same time, understanding completely.

“Look, man. I’m sorry as hell you got screwed over. But my situation is different. You were in love with the chick who fucked you over. My deal is completely different. This is a business contract.”

“Who the hell are the references?”

Drew hit some keys on his computer and pulled up a list of five names.

Every single one had been in the news in the last five years for their weddings. The billionaire club was a small exclusive group, even internationally.

“I hope you know what the hell you’re doing.”

~~~

Personal Services Contract

Weddings To Go, d/b/a WTG, for good and valuable consideration, hereby agrees to provide marriage status to the undersigned Andrew Joseph Butler, IV, [hereinafter AJB] or his assignee. AJB shall pay a service fee to WTG for such services as further delineated in the Payment Terms Rider incorporated as Exhibit 1-A to this contract.

“God, Elizabeth. This has got to stop. I have a bad feeling about this one.” Samantha Felix was Elizabeth’s best friend. Sam paced the spacious living room of their two-bedroom Manhattan apartment, located off Lexington and 35^th in Midtown. The fifth floor of the Marquis building was as high as they could afford but it worked for their purposes.

Elizabeth sipped her wine. “We only need this one last job and we’ll be set.”

“But none of the girls are available. They’re all married.”

Elizabeth wrinkled her nose. That was an issue, but she had a solution. As usual. “I’m going to step in myself this time.”

“Are you crazy?” Samantha stopped her pacing and gaped at Elizabeth. “No! It’s too risky.”

Prologue

The Gazette: Money. Money. Money. It’s all about the money. Isn’t that what Daddy told you? If you are not married and need to be, help is on your doorstep. References available. Send your confidential request through The Gazette, Box 251.

[Carson]

“You can’t seriously think to answer that ad. It’s a scam.” I tossed the offending paper in the trash and confronted my friend, Drew Butler. The situation smacked me in the head as remarkably familiar, the memories of my own disaster a decade ago surfaced like dead fish in buoyant salt water.

“What choice do I have?” Drew bit out. “My father has an appointment with the attorneys next week. I need a bride fast. And one who won’t take me for every cent I stand to inherit. No sex is also part of the contract.”

“Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.” But I got it. Our dads had formed a club when they were in college. There had been a fucking pact. The controlling bastards.

“Besides, it’s too late. I responded to the ad last week. She sent over the contract. I sent it back with a few modifications.”

I paced to the window and looked out over the busy Fifth Avenue below. “And the references?”

“I checked them out. They appear legitimate. Very discreet.”

I spun around. “Jesus, Drew. Anyone can provide you discreet references.” I was furious with—no, for—my friend, at the same time, understanding completely.

Drew dropped in his chair behind a mahogany desk. We were in his family’s lavish apartment, located in the Plaza Hotel. The view was spectacular, overlooking Central Park. “Look, man. I’m sorry as hell you got screwed over. But my situation is different. You were in love with the chick who fucked you over. My deal is completely different. This is a business contract.”

I pressed my lips together, knowing he was partly right. But women were manipulative and cruel, and I renewed my fight, determined to save him from himself. “Who the hell are the references?”

Drew hit some keys on his computer and pulled up a list of five names.

Every single one had been in the news in the last five years for their extravagant weddings. The billionaire club was a small exclusive group, even internationally.

The air left my lungs in a whoosh. “I hope you know what the hell you’re doing.”

~~~

Personal Services Contract

Weddings To Go, d/b/a WTG, for good and valuable consideration, hereby agrees to provide marriage status to the undersigned Andrew Joseph Butler, IV, [hereinafter AJB] or his assignee. AJB shall pay a service fee to WTG for such services as further delineated in the Payment Terms Rider incorporated as Exhibit 1-A to this contract.

[Elizabeth]

“God, Elizabeth. This has got to stop. I have a bad feeling about this one.” Samantha Felix is my best friend. Sam paced the spacious living room of our two-bedroom Manhattan apartment, located off Lexington and 35^th in Midtown. The fifth floor of the Marquis building was as high as we could afford but it worked for our purposes.

I sipped my wine, amused. I know I should have found the situation funny, and I did—in a hysterical sense. Like, if I started laughing I wouldn’t be able to stop until I dropped dead, or at the least, fainted from lack of air. “We only need this one last job and we’ll be set.” I spoke calmly, because that was the only way I knew how to speak.

“But none of the girls are available. They’re all married.”

I wrinkled my nose. That was an issue, but I had a solution. As usual. “I’m stepping in myself this time.”

“Are you crazy?” Samantha stopped her pacing and gaped at me. “No! It’s too risky.”