Chapter 8 My Unplanned Wedding

• Ninette’s POV
• Wolfe Tower was everything I expected; glass and steel and intimidation, soaring into the sky like a middle finger to everyone below. I could only wonder what his penthouse would look like.
• The lobby was marble and modern art and people in expensive suits moving with purpose. I felt completely out of place in my simple dress and drugstore makeup.
• But Jim had left a pass at the security desk, and within minutes, I was in an elevator shooting up to the sixty-fourth floor.
• The doors opened directly into a reception area that screamed money and power. A young man, Jim, presumably, looked up from his desk.
• "Ms. Cole?"
• "Yes."
• "Mr. Wolfe is expecting you. Right through those doors."
• He gestured to massive double doors. I walked through them on shaking legs.
• Adrian's office was enormous with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the entire city, sleek furniture, a desk that probably cost more than my old apartment. And Adrian himself, standing by those windows in rolled-up shirtsleeves, looking like every fantasy I'd ever had.
• He turned when I entered. "Ninette. That was fast."
• "I needed to tell you in person. Before you thought I was trying to manipulate you or trap you or…"
• "Slow down." He crossed to me, his hands settling on my shoulders. "Breathe. Whatever it is, we'll handle it."
• I looked up at him, at those storm-gray eyes that had seen me at my worst and somehow still wanted me, and forced the words out.
• "I'm pregnant."
• He went absolutely still. Not just quiet, completely frozen, like someone had hit pause on him.
• "Pregnant," he repeated slowly.
• "Eight weeks, medically speaking. Six weeks since conception. Since that night at the hotel." The words tumbled out faster now. "I just found out this morning. I had a routine check-up and they told me and I came straight here because I needed you to know before you thought I was accepting your offer to trap you or get more money or…"
• "It's mine." It wasn’t a question.
• "Yes. There hasn't been anyone else. Damien and I hadn't had sex in months before that night. And there's been no one since."
• He still wasn't moving. Just staring at me with an expression I couldn't read.
• "Say something," I whispered.
• "You're pregnant with my child." He said it like he was testing the words, seeing how they felt.
• "Yes."
• His hands slid from my shoulders to cup my face, his thumbs brushing my cheekbones. "And you came here to tell me. You didn't hide it, didn't try to use it as leverage. You just told me the truth."
• "Of course I told you. I'm not…. I wouldn't…"
• He kissed me.
• It was soft and gentle. Nothing like the desperate passion of that first night. This was something else. Something that felt like relief and promise and the beginning of something I couldn't name.
• When he pulled back, his forehead rested against mine.
• "The offer still stands," he said quietly. "The contract. The marriage. All of it. Actually, it's even more straightforward now… you're already carrying my heir. We just need to make it legal."
• "But the baby changes things. Changes the timeline, the…"
• "It doesn't change anything that matters." He stepped back, his hands trailing down to rest on my hips. "I still need a wife. You still need protection from your ex-husband and financial security. And now there's a baby who needs both of us. This baby is part of the contract now."
• "This isn't how you planned it."
• "Plans change." His voice was businesslike now. "But this works. Better than I expected, actually. We can marry within the week, establish paternity, shut down any claims Damien might make."
• My head was spinning. "A week?"
• "It's the earliest we can manage. I've already made inquiries. Courthouse weddings usually require twenty-one days' notice, but I can pull strings and get us down to seven days. We marry next week, announce it publicly, and make damn sure everyone knows this baby is mine."
• It was happening so fast. Too fast.
• "I need to think…"
• "About what?" His voice was firmer now, more commanding. "Ninette, you have no job, no money, no place to live. Damien wants you arrested. Your biological mother won't see you. And now you're pregnant." His hands tightened on my hips. "I'm offering you a solution. A contract that benefits both of us. You get security, money, protection. I get an heir. It's business. Pure business. Take it or handle this alone."
• The bluntness hurt, but he was right. This wasn't about feelings or romance. This was a transaction.
• "Okay," I heard myself say. "Yes. I'll accept the contract. I'll marry you."
• The satisfaction in his eyes was immediate.
• "Good." He pulled out his phone. "I'll have my lawyers draw up an updated contract reflecting the pregnancy. We'll schedule the courthouse ceremony for next week. In the meantime, you need to leave that hotel before Damien makes good on his threat to have you arrested."
• "Where am I supposed to go?"
• "You’ll stay with me at the penthouse suite where I live. It’s just across town, probably a twenty minutes’ drive from here. You'll be safe there until the wedding."
• I shook my head. "I can't... I can't stay with you. Not before we're married."
• He frowned. "Why not?"
• "Because I have very little dignity left, and I need to hold onto what I have. If I move into your penthouse before we're even married, even if this is just a contract, I'll feel like..." I couldn't finish.
• Understanding crossed his face. "Like you're being kept."
• "Yes."
• He studied me for a long moment, then nodded. "Alright. The Meridian hotel it is. It’s nearby, I’ll make sure it’s a suite and you get full privacy. I'll have Jim arrange everything. You'll move in today. Are you okay with the arrangement?"
• Relief flooded through me. "Thank you."
• "But Ninette?" He stepped closer, his voice dropping. "After we're married, you're living with me. In my home. Separate bedrooms, separate lives, but under the same roof. That's part of the contract. Understood?"
• The command in his voice should have annoyed me. Instead, it made something warm curl in my stomach.
• "Understood."
• "Good." He pressed a quick kiss to my forehead, surprisingly gentle for a business transaction. "Go back to your hotel, pack your things. Jim will meet you there in two hours with a car and security. From this moment forward, you're under my protection."
• "Adrian…"
• "No arguments. You're carrying my child. That makes you valuable. I protect my investments." The way he said it reminded me what this really was.
• This was business. Not romance.
• A contract. Not love.
• "Okay," I whispered.
• He walked me to the elevator, his hand on my lower back.
• At the doors, he turned me to face him.
• "One week, Ninette. One week, and you'll be my wife. Can you handle that?"
• "I don't have much choice, do I?"
• "No." A small smile that didn't reach his eyes. "But this will work. You'll see. We'll both get what we need."
• The elevator doors closed, and I rode down alone, my mind spinning.
• Seven days until I became Mrs. Adrian Wolfe.
• Seven days until my entire life changed forever.
• Seven days to figure out if I was making the best decision of my life or the biggest mistake.
• Two hours later, I stood in an expensive suite of the Meridian Hotel, and my old hotel room looked like a closet by comparison.
• Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. A bedroom with a bed bigger than my old living room. A marble bathroom with a tub that could fit three people. A full kitchen, a living area, everything sleek and modern and expensive.
• Jim had been efficient and professional, arranging movers to pack my meager belongings, security to escort me, everything handled before I could even process what was happening.
• "Mr. Wolfe wanted me to inform you that all expenses are covered," Jim said, standing in the doorway. "Room service, spa services, anything you need. Just charge it to the room. He also wanted me to give you this."
• He handed me a black credit card with my name already printed on it.
• "For anything you might need over the next week. Clothes, personal items, whatever makes you comfortable."
• I stared at the card like it might bite me. "This is too much."
• "Mr. Wolfe was very clear. You're to have everything you need." His expression softened slightly. "He's a good man, Ms. Cole. Hard, yes. Demanding. But he takes care of his investments."
• Investments. Not people. Investments.
• "Thank you, Jim."
• He nodded and left, and I was alone in this beautiful prison, waiting for my wedding day.