LOGINSabrina's POV
The word "marry" was still echoing in my head when Dominic's driver pulled up in front of a tall iron gate.
I sat in the back seat wearing one of his black sweatshirts.
It was too big on me. The sleeves covered my hands. The fabric smelled like him. Clean soap and something warm.
My wedding dress was ruined and crumpled on the floor of the car. I had changed in the back seat while he waited outside with his back turned.
Now we were in his living room. The place was huge and quiet. Dark wood floors. Big windows that looked out at the city lights.
He stood near the fireplace with his hands in his pockets, watching me.
"I need a wife," he said. His voice was calm and direct.
"My grandmother has been pushing hard. She arranges three blind dates a week for me. Different women every time. I'm tired of it. If I have a wife, she will stop. After one year we can divorce. I will give you one million dollars as alimony. If you don't want this, you can leave right now."
I stayed quiet. My fingers twisted the edge of his sweatshirt.
He continued. "About Mike and the investment. I will have someone in the company handle it properly. They will do another full review of your parents' farm. If the project is solid, the money will be released. If it's not, it won't."
I thought about the timeline. Mike had always dragged his feet on paperwork. This new review would probably take at least a month. Maybe longer.
But our strawberries were almost ready to pick. We needed that money now for trucks and cold storage and shipping. Without it we would lose the whole harvest.
I looked at Dominic. He was giving me a way out. I could walk away and try to figure something else out. But there was nothing else. My parents' whole life was on that land. I couldn't let it disappear because I was scared.
I took a slow breath and tried to sound steady. "It's just a fake marriage. One year. Then we go our separate ways."
Dominic's eyes stayed on me. He didn't smile.
"It's not just a piece of paper," he said. "You will live here with me. We will act like a real married couple when it matters. And I have needs. I'm not interested in a sexless marriage."
The words landed hard. I felt my face go hot.
My hands tightened on the sweatshirt. I stared at him, trying to process what he had just said.
Dominic's POV
She looked small in my sweatshirt. The black fabric swallowed her. Her hair was still messy from the street.
There was a smudge of makeup on her cheek. She kept twisting the sleeve between her fingers while I talked. Those big green eyes stayed on my face the whole time.
I knew I was taking advantage of the situation. She was desperate. Her parents' farm was on the line. I could have let Andy handle the investment and still given her the money.
But I didn't want to.
I had been dreaming about this woman for six months. Wet, filthy dreams that left me hard and frustrated in the middle of the night.
I would wake up with her name in my mouth and my hand already on my dick.
Now she was standing in my living room wearing my clothes, looking at me with those innocent eyes, and my cock was already straining against my pants. Just from watching her breathe.
I liked the way she fought back in that bridal shop. I liked the way she bit that guy on the street without hesitation. And I really liked those strawberry tarts she made.
Sweet, honest, exactly the way I liked them. Strawberries had always been my favorite. Only my grandmother knew that. Most people assumed I preferred expensive whiskey or cigars. They were wrong.
She had a clean, natural kind of beauty. No heavy makeup. No fake attitude. Her body was soft in all the right places. I could still feel the shape of her waist under my hand from when I caught her earlier.
I wanted to feel more. I wanted to taste her. I wanted to see what those eyes looked like when she came.
If she said no right now, I would still invest in the farm. I wasn't lying about that.
But I wasn't going to pretend I didn't want her here. This was my chance to keep her close. I wasn't going to waste it.
She was still staring at me after I told her I had needs. Her lips were slightly parted. Her cheeks had gone pink. She looked shocked, but she hadn't run yet. That was something.
I waited. I wanted to hear what she would say.
Sabrina's POVSirens pierced the afternoon air. Red and blue lights flashed across the white hydrangeas on the altar.Two county police cruisers tore up the gravel driveway and braked near the helicopter.Four officers stepped out. Andy met them halfway. He handed the lead officer the thick black folder of evidence. The officer flipped through the pages, nodded, and marched straight toward Mike.Mike scrambled backward on the grass. He held his hands up. "Wait! This is a misunderstanding. I have money!"The officer grabbed Mike's wrist and twisted his arm behind his back. The cold metal handcuffs clicked into place.Tracy realized her fate. Her eyes darted around the yard. She lunged at Mike. Her manicured nails caught his cheek and scratched a raw red line down his skin."This is your fault!" Tracy screamed. Her voice cracked. She beat her fists against his shoulder. "You told me the plan was foolproof! You promised me a cut!"Mike shoved her back with his shoulder. "Shut your mouth,
Sabrina's POVMike let out a harsh, barking laugh. The sound cut through the shocked silence of the wedding guests. He pointed a finger at Dominic's broad back."You fired me?" Mike sneered. He took a step closer to the altar. "You are a cheap male escort. Sabrina paid you two hundred bucks to stand there and play tough. You do not have the power to fire a janitor. You are a joke."Tracy crossed her arms and smirked at the crowd. "It is pathetic. She could not keep a real man and she had to rent one for the day to save face."Mrs. Gable stood up in the second row. She smoothed her bright pink dress and pointed her beaded handbag at me."This is a disgrace!" Mrs. Gable shouted. She looked around to gather support from the other neighbors. "Bringing a street walker to a holy ceremony! You ruin the reputation of this entire town, Sabrina Winston. Your parents should hide their faces in shame."My parents flinched. My father stepped forward. His fists balled at his sides. I raised my hand
Sabrina's POVThe farm transformed overnight. Strings of fairy lights hung between the old oak trees. White hydrangeas wrapped around the wooden archway. My parents spared zero expense for the reception.Alex walked up the gravel path. He wore a beige suit and a warm smile. He held a silver-wrapped gift box. We grew up together. He moved away for college, but we reconnected in New York."Sabrina," Alex said. He pulled me into a brief hug. "You look radiant. I could not miss your big day."I stepped back and smiled. "Thank you for making the drive, Alex."Dominic appeared at my side. He placed a hand flat against my lower back. The heat of his palm burned through my silk robe."Alex," I said. "Meet my groom, Mike."Alex extended his hand. "Nice to meet you, Mike."Dominic took his hand. A brief, firm shake. "Likewise."Alex kept a polite smile on his face. His gaze dropped. He cataloged Dominic's custom-tailored suit. His eyes snagged on the Patek Philippe watch and the diamond cufflin
Sabrina's POVThe dining table groaned under the weight of roasted chicken and sweet corn. Dominic sat next to me. He used his fork and knife with effortless grace.Dad leaned over his plate and grilled Dominic on crop yields and profit margins. Dominic met Dad's gaze. He recited market projections and supply chain logistics without missing a beat."What about your folks, Mike?" Mom asked. She passed a bowl of mashed potatoes across the table. "Are they coming down for the ceremony?"Dominic set his fork down. The silver clinked against the porcelain. "My grandmother will fly in from Italy. She is my only immediate family."Mom frowned. "Oh. What about your parents?""A plane crash," Dominic said. His tone remained even. "I was twelve."The room went dead silent. I dropped my hand under the tablecloth.My fingers found his knee and traced his jeans.I wanted to offer comfort. Dominic shifted his hand and caught my fingers. He laced his digits through mine.Dad cleared his throat. The
Sabrina's POVDust coated the sleek black hood of the Porsche. We navigated the potholed dirt road leading to my family's farm.The afternoon sun caught the face of Dominic's Patek Philippe watch. The platinum metal gleamed against his tanned wrist.The expensive timepiece looked entirely out of place against the backdrop of rusted silos and weathered wooden fences.I gripped the edge of my seat. My palms sweat against my denim jeans. I was bringing a billionaire to a struggling organic farm. My parents thought his name was Mike. They believed he was a mid-level client manager.Dominic steered the low-profile sports car over a deep rut with casual grace. He did not complain about the dust settling on his immaculate paint job. He looked at ease.We pulled into the gravel driveway. The scent of fresh hay and damp earth filled the open windows.My parents stood on the front porch. Dad wiped his hands on his faded denim overalls. Mom wore her best Sunday dress. She waved a floral handkerc
Sabrina's POVThe sharp sound against the headboard made me flinch. My whole body went tense, waiting for the next one.It landed on the outside of my thigh.The leather snapped against my skin with a quick, stinging heat. I sucked in a sharp breath.The pain was bright but shallow, quickly melting into a warm throb that spread between my legs. My back arched slightly off the bed.Dominic didn't speak right away. I felt the mattress shift as he moved closer. His fingers brushed over the spot he had just struck, slow and deliberate, as if he was checking the mark he left behind."Too much?" His voice was low, close to my ear.I shook my head. My voice came out thinner than I expected. "No… it's okay."He made a quiet sound of approval. The next strike came lower, across the top of my thigh, closer to where I was already aching. This one was firmer. I gasped, my wrists pulling against the cuffs as my hips jerked.The sting bloomed hot across my skin. Before I could catch my breath, his







