Page 15 of Married in Michigan

His eyes widen. “Youdohave balls of titanium if you’re willing to snort at my mother.”

“It’s just so ridiculous,” I say, the words tumbling out unbidden.“We’re forcing you to marry some fluffy trollop for the sake of appearances, but don’t worry, you can still fuck around all you want, just be discreet about it.”

Two slow blinks of his eyelids, and then Paxton is guffawing uproariously. “Oh my god, I would give up my Ferrari to see Mom’s reaction to hearing you say that,” he says, wiping a tear of mirth away from his eye. “Fluffy trollop. You called Cecily Amador-Richards a fluffy trollop. God, that’s amazing.”

I frown. “It feels like you’re making fun of me.”

“No, not at all.” He shakes his head. “You clearly have no idea who Cecily is if that’s your description of her.”

“Shallow, vapid, selfish, cruel, thoughtless, and obnoxious—if I had to pick descriptors off the top of my head without having met her.” I literally bite down on my lip until it hurts. “I can’t believe I just said that out loud.”

He shrugs. “You’re not wrong. But you forgot cunning, devious, vicious, manipulative, slutty, gold digging…”

I can’t help but laugh. “Sounds like she’s a real piece of work.”

“You mispronounced ‘shit’.”

“Well, I’m sorry for your circumstances, Mr. deBraun,” I say. “Good luck with the marriage.”

“I’m not getting married.”

“Will your mother really cut you off?”

He nods, no humor on his face now. “Yes, she will. She controls the purse strings, really. Dad’s sole focus is his company—day-to-day affairs are of no concern to him. I doubt my mother has even consulted him on this, to be honest.”

“So you really do have to marry this Cecily woman, or suffer the life of a common peon, laboring for a paycheck.”

“I’ll survive,” he says, wryly. “I’ve made quite a bit of my own money. It’s the political connections I’d lose that worry me, not to mention the clout that comes with the backing of the deBraun family come election cycle.”

The pause, then, is…fraught. His eyes are on me, and now the speculation and curiosity are replaced by something else. Something devious. Sly. There’s all but a light bulb over his head, lighting up and goingding.

A grin curls across his lips. “Oh man. That would be something.”

I frown. “What?”

He shakes his head. “No, no way. I can’t. I couldn’t.” He laughs. “What a way to stick it to her, though.”

I have a sinking feeling in my gut. “What? What are you thinking?”

He shakes his head. “It’s of no consequence, Miss Poe. An idea with no real merit.” Yet despite his words, his eyes remain on mine, probing, searching.

The elevator door has long since opened, and I push my cart onto it, and then turn to press the button for the service level. As the door begins to slide closed, Paxton’s voice rings out.

“Are you single, Miss Poe?”

“Yes,” I hear myself answer, and wish I’d lied. Wish I’d had a snarky retort—the one time I really need a witty, sassy, nasty comment to avoid the question, I don’t have one.

Just the truth.

I’m alone on the elevator, but I still feel Paxton’s brooding, thoughtful silence as if he were here in the elevator with me.

I don’t want to know what he was thinking. I really, really don’t.

4

“Hi, Mom.” I lean down and wrap my arms around her.

She leans her head against me and her eyes smile, but the rest of her cannot.