Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 21996 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 110(@200wpm)___ 88(@250wpm)___ 73(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 21996 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 110(@200wpm)___ 88(@250wpm)___ 73(@300wpm)
I pull out the papers that I printed at the library and look over them again. I can’t believe I’m agreeing to get married to a man I’ve never met. I don’t even know his real name yet.
I was shocked when I ran across the mail-order bride agency. Even more shocked at how fast I was approved and picked by someone. The man who picked me wouldn’t tell me who he was until I consented and signed a nondisclosure agreement. I almost backed out until I read that the man who picked me wanted a marriage in name only, and it wouldn’t be forever. Five years of marriage is all he asked for. It was odd, but I could do that. It almost seemed too perfect to be true. Ben would forget about me after five years. Right? I could go home one day. I just had to get through the next five years. There was even a payout arranged at the end of the marriage.
I don’t care about the money. I only want somewhere to hide. To make sure the people I love stay safe. I just want to be able to sleep again. To lay my head down at night and not fear what’s coming. To not sleep in a hotel that’s nearly as scary as the thought of Ben finding me.
I close my eyes now, thinking about the last month. I don’t think I’ve slept more than two hours at a time. I’ve been on edge, and it’s wearing me down. My body is heavy as I let myself sink into the seat.
“Ma’am,” I hear someone say, jolting me awake. My eyes fly open and I see a man standing over me. “We’re here.” I glance around the bus to see everyone is gone and I’m sitting all alone.
“Sorry,” I say, grabbing my bag. I shuffle past him and off the bus. A giant sign reads Welcome to St. Louis, Missouri in gaudy colors.
I rub my eyes, trying to clear my mind. I thought getting some space from home would help, but my stomach feels as sick as ever. I’ve never left home before. Heck, I’ve never even left my state before.
“Miss?” I turn to see a man in a suit. He’s tall and thin. His dark hair is dusted with gray and his smile is nice and welcoming. “Willow Adams?” he asks, and I nod. He looks down at the paper in his hand. Then back up at me. I must match the picture he has. The one I’d sent to the agency. “This way.” He motions toward a black sedan. “I’m Jason Caswell, Mr. York’s driver,” he tells me as he opens the back door to the sedan. I slip inside and he shuts the door before going around and getting into the driver’s seat. I buckle up as we take off. “It’s about a twenty-minute ride. We are going to the penthouse today,” he says smoothly. It makes me wonder how many homes Mr. York has.
I sit and look at the city as it flies by. I admire the Arch as we drive by, and I wonder if I’ll get a chance to visit it. This is going to be my home for at least the next five years. I have no idea what my day-to-day is going to be like.
“You have a good view of it from the penthouse,” Mr. Caswell tells me, catching me staring at the St. Louis Arch. He smiles at me in the rearview mirror and I smile back. “This is going to be interesting,” I hear him say, shaking his head. He smiles even bigger.
I begin to ask him what he means but see we are pulling up to what looks like a hotel. Mr. Caswell hops out and comes around to open my door, then takes my bag from me.
“Thank you, Mr. Caswell.”
“Call me Jason,” he corrects.
“Thank you, Jason,” I say, feeling in over my head. What kind of guy has a full-time driver?
He gives me that smile again. It’s so kind that it makes me feel like everything is going to be okay. This sweet man wouldn’t be leading me to the devil. Or, at least, I hope not, but my judgment has been off with people before. Obviously.
We walk into the building and I can see it’s a hotel. “He owns it,” Jason says, answering my unasked question. He leads me to a private elevator that’s off to the side and slides in a key. When it opens I step in and Jason follows behind me. He pushes the button for the penthouse—the only button on the panel.
The elevator moves, my heart starts to race. I’m totally out of my depth here. Am I about to meet the man I’m going to be spending the next five years with?