Vivianne

By the time I made it home to my apartment, I was nearly bursting with frustration. I slammed my purse into the couch and stomped off to my room without even greeting my sister. Analise was standing in the kitchen with a mixing spoon in her hand, mouth already open to say hello when my bedroom door slammed. 

I quickly changed out of my restrictive business clothes and into a set of worn-out sweats. That alone made me feel a little bit better. I focused on my bare toes sinking into the soft carpet and the scent of spaghetti drifting in. 

“Alright Viv, spill,” came Annalise’s voice from the other side of the door. “What did that moronic boss of yours do this time?” 

“We both know you think he’s hot, Annie, but I appreciate you playing along.” I opened the door and wandered across the open-concept living space to the dining area. “But you’re on the right track. You won’t believe what stupid scheme he’s come up with this time.” 

Analise fetched a wine cooler from the fridge and slid it across the counter to where I sat in one of the barstools. “Try me.” She waggled her eyebrows and grabbed herself a drink as well. 

“Dominic and I are getting married in two weeks.” 

She’d just taken a swig of her drink and, in her surprise, sprayed it all over the counter. I thumped her back as she coughed and sputtered her way back to control. “Okay, enough teasing. What did he really do today?” 

“I’m not kidding. We’re trying for that big merger with the Kingsley group, right? Well, apparently they’re big into family values and crap, and Mr. Wild and Free doesn’t exactly meet their criteria. So you know what his solution is? To pretend to marry me for six weeks!”

“And you agreed to this?!” She rested her chin in her hand and leaned into her elbow, sipping her cooler with wide eyes. Usually I would have laughed, but today I wasn’t in a laughing mood.

I nodded and she exploded into incoherent noise. “We need to close this deal, Annie! I don’t think I’ve adequately explained to you how much more money I’ll make if this works out. We could afford one of those penthouse apartments we’ve always dreamed about!” 

“But at what cost?”

As I stared into those baby blue eyes so identical to my own, I felt her question resonate in my soul. I’d been asking the same thing all day long, from the moment I shook Dominic’s hand. What unknown water was I diving into? 

All I could do was shrug. I drained half the cooler in silence and my sister placed her hand on my shoulder. “You’re a smart one, Viv. If you think this is worth it, I’ll support you every step of the way. As long as I get to be the maid of honor. And since it’s just pretend, you won’t be offended if I stare at his ass, right?” 

She shot me a cheeky grin, and I began to laugh. “I wouldn’t choose anyone else. And be my guest.” My laugh fell into a disgusted face, and I finished my wine. “I’m going to bed. All this bull has me exhausted.”

Analise waved me on, and I disappeared into my room. That night, I lay in bed for hours on end with a million scenarios rushing through my head. Almost all of them involved my reputation going down the drain, no matter whether I went through with the wedding or not. Eventually I fell into a fitful sleep filled with disastrous weddings and marital beds that swallowed me whole. 

Needless to say, I wasn’t exactly bright-eyed and bushy-tailed when I woke up the next morning. I dragged my butt through my morning routine and only made it through the morning meeting by the grace of coffee.

Yesterday’s meetings with Erickson and Martha had been completely useless, so I had new ones planned for today. While I understood that they still needed budgets from Dominic, I’d hoped we could at least discuss my preferences a little bit. Instead, we argued for thirty minutes over how much control I should have until I kicked them out of my office.

They arrived with a new strategy today. “All of these options have been approved by Mr. Voss already,” Erickson explained as he began laying images of wedding dresses on my desk. “The plan is for you to pick a few styles that you like, and next week go to try them on. He already set an appointment for next Wednesday afternoon.” 

Such typical Dominic behavior! He was treating this like any other project we’d worked on together. Choices with guard rails, that’s what he always gave me. But at least I had choices at all. I scanned the images in front of me, which spanned a wide variety of styles. 

Some were easy to eliminate. Fluffy princess dresses and skimpy street-corner-lady bits of cloth were off the table. I gravitated toward the mermaid style and other sleek options. “These five.” I gathered up my top favorites into a neat stack and handed them to Erickson. “Did he tell you what time the appointment is? Because nobody bothered to ask me about my schedule.” 

“4pm. Dominic said he checked your shared calendar and there weren’t any conflicts.” Erickson tucked the chosen photos away in his dossier and waved vaguely at the others, then the trash can. I wasted no time scooping them up and putting them in the circular filing bin. 

I admit, I’d forgotten about the shared calendar for a moment. But I was still annoyed he hadn’t bothered to ask me when would be convenient. I was glad that we weren’t actually getting married, because Dominic had zero skills when it came to communication with me.

The meeting with Martha was far more painful. Again I was presented with a set of options, but this time there were multiple decisions to make. Which decor package did I like? Which cake? What menu? What playlist? After five or six rounds, I was exhausted. I didn’t care anymore. If I could show up, get fake married, and leave, I would be a happy camper. 

But that was his plan, wasn’t it? I stubbornly wanted a say, so he drowned me in ‘say.’ Bastard.