Page 33 of Captive Audience

All right. I was calling it. This one-night stand was officially not fun anymore.

Forget the ring. It was time to leave.

I shoved off the blankets and jumped out of the bed, clutching the waistband of the man-size sweats I wore when they nearly slipped down my hips.

Hang on. I’d never put those on. And I definitely should’ve woken when someone shoved this ridiculous ring on my finger.

A slow dread crept up my spine.

There were gaps in my memory.

Rook stood quickly. “Where do you think you’re going,Wife?”

“Don’t call me that.” I stumbled back a step, mind racing and struggling to connect the dots.

“I will until you acknowledge that you’re mine.”

Mine?Who said shit like that? “Not in a million years.”

With effort, I racked my brain until several small details returned. Rook carrying me. Strange voices. Being roused from a deep sleep and asked to…to do something.

That was it. That was all I had.

My narrowed gaze shot to Rook. “You drugged me.”

He shrugged. “It was just a Xanax.”

“Justa Xanax?” My voice cracked. I blinked at him like he might suddenly morph into someone else. Someone sane.

“You never would’ve married me otherwise.”

“No shit. And for the record, we’re not married. You can’t drug a person, shove a ring on their finger, and declare them your wife.”

He exhaled hard, as if I were the irrational one. “I know that.” He pulled out his phone and held it up.

I took one look at the screen and froze.

Security-camera footage. Rook’s living room. Me, unconscious on the sofa while Rook, a guy with piercings and neck tats, and an old man wearing a robe stood nearby.

Well, that was creepy as fuck. If they all got their dicks out and started jerking off, I’d grab the nearest blunt object and crack this son of a bitch’s skull open.

“What’s this?” I asked.

Rook had the gall to look offended. “Our wedding. See, that’s Father Sheehan.” He pointed to the older guy first, then at Neck Tats. “And that’s my cousin Aidan. Our witness.”

“Oh, sure. Seems totally legitimate. One looks like a pervert and the other like he escaped the supermax.”

The video played on. Words were said, Rook slipped his ring on his finger, then spent a while messing with mine. I’d been woken at one point—vaguely remembered that—but there was no way, even in a drugged state, I’d agree to marry some guy I’d just met. No matter how fantastic the sex had been.

I pushed the phone away. “I don’t care what this shows. That bullshit ceremony isn’t legal.”

Rook returned it to his coat pocket. “Except the priest will say it is. So will Aidan.”

I ground my teeth until my jaw ached. “It’ll never hold up in court.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. How much money do you have to fight me on it? Because I have billions at my disposal, and you have no idea how far I’ll go to get what I want.”

And what he wanted was to be married to me?