by Nikki Chase
He sounds vaguely panicked. I finish up in the bathroom and pad back into the room, still dressed only in my boxers.
Brock takes a deep breath and starts flipping through the large stack of papers he’s holding.
“Okay, I guess we can ignore the tabloids for now. But shit, Luke, even the major business newspapers have been calling, asking if this will affect our acquisitions. I say we sit down right now, come up with a statement that we can start releasing, and then try and see how to get this colossal fuck-up fixed before it causes any more trouble.”
I yawn. “Where’s my phone?”
“Finally, some reaction.” Brock looks relieved.
He grabs my cell from the coffee table and throws it over to me. I catch it in one hand and start swiping.
“Now, you need to start calling around, telling people not to talk to the media until we get this statement—”
I interrupt him. “Relax, Brock, before you keel over or something. I’m not calling the office.”
He stands there, open-mouthed in shock.
I find Tessa’s number on my phone and smile.
“So, everyone wants to know about this girl, huh? So do I, as a matter of fact. I should give my wife a call.”
Tessa
With breakfast finished (and my Bloody Mary left untouched) Claire and I are desperately searching the Internet to try and find out how to annul a marriage.
I’m far too hungover to read and decipher legalese, so I leave the bulk of the work to her. She’s sitting cross-legged on the bed, laptop in front of her, poring over various websites and frowning.
Claire starts reading aloud from one site. “To qualify for an annulment, a marriage must be legally void or voidable. Void means that it is not valid, while voidable means that a court can declare it to be invalid if it is challenged . . .”
She sighs.
“This all sounds so complicated and difficult. Can’t you just go to a judge or something and tell them it was a mistake? How hard can it be?”
“Isn’t there something that says if I was too drunk to know what I was doing, it doesn’t count? Surely that must be a thing.” I sip on my water, trying to fight through the crashing pain of my headache.
Claire looks at me, then types away on the keyboard again for a few seconds. A couple more minutes of frowning and concentrating, then she lets out a victorious whoop.
“Look!” she says excitedly, turning the laptop towards me. “You’re actually right!”
I try to read the screen, but the letters are blurry and swimming around in front of my eyes, making it impossible to focus on them.
“I can’t read it,” I groan. “Can you just tell me the important parts?”
Claire’s voice grows louder in excitement, her words tumbling swiftly out of her mouth as she reads. “Did one or both of the parties lack the requisite mental capacity to voluntarily enter into the marriage due to the effects of drugs or alcohol?
“That’s it, right? It’s basically saying that you can call it off if you were too drunk to know what you were doing. You’re in the clear!”
She reads on for a few more moments.
“It looks like you just need to sign some forms, and then serve him some documents, then it’s like the marriage never happened.”
I sigh. “To me, it sounds like that’s going to involve lawyers, and lawyers cost money. I don’t actually have any money. Thank God I just landed that new job.”
“Are you kidding me?” Claire shoots me an incredulous look. “Tess, you are currently married to a billionaire. You’re entitled to some of his shit. You could get alimony, some of his assets—hell, you could just stay married to him!”
I shake my head. “I don’t want any of his money. I just want this all to go away, for last night to be erased. Then I can start fresh, just like I was planning.”
“Tess, babe, it’s Luke Alder.” My friend looks completely bemused. “Think about this for a second. This could be an amazing opportunity for you. You could be set for life if you do this properly. Never have to worry about money ever again. Never have to work. Live a life of luxury with me, your best pal.”
To be honest, I wasn’t going to pretend that it wasn’t tempting. I’d spent so long being dirt poor, worrying about money, bills, rent payments, that to never have to think about that stuff ever again was extremely seductive.
“I hear what you’re saying,” I reply, “but it would feel . . . wrong, somehow. I didn’t do anything to earn any of that.”
“What? Of course you did! That’s the law, and if loverboy didn’t want it to happen, well maybe he shouldn’t have agreed to marry you!”
If I did choose to go down that route . . .
It’s probably fair to say that someone like Luke Alder hasn’t become as rich as he is by being loose and free with his money. He probably has money managers, wealth consultants, and lawyers out the wazoo.
Meanwhile, all I have is . . . Well, I don’t have anything at all. No money, no legal knowhow, no support network. If I demand money from him, it’ll end up in court, I’ll have to pay lawyers, show up to hearings, and on and on and on. I don’t really have the time or the inclination.
“It was just a moment of drunken craziness, Claire,” I say. “A mistake on both our parts. I’m sure he’ll agree, once he wakes up and realizes what we did. Hell, he’s probably freaking out right now, watching the news.”
“I can’t believe you’re being so damn blasé about this whole thing, Tess!” She frowns. “There are millions of women around the world who would do terrible, awful things to be in the position you’re in right now. I mean, to be married to a billionaire . . . and not just any billionaire; a young, hot one! You’ve hit the goddamn jackpot!”
“But I don’t even know him,” I reply. “We spent one evening together, and sure, it was a fun evening—as far as I can remember, at least—but you don’t just go marrying people after one fun night! I wouldn’t be surprised if he never even wants to speak to me again. He’ll probably get his lawyers to handle the whole thing so he can go back to sleeping with random sluts and making more money.”
And then, right on cue, my phone starts ringing.
Claire is way quicker then me in my hungover state, and jumps up off the bed and grabs it. She takes one look at the caller ID and her eyes light up.
“You couldn’t be more wrong!” she yells. “Look!”
She hands the phone to me, and I look down at the screen, dread creeping up from my stomach.
The caller ID says Hubby.
“Hubby?” I groan. “Really? Holy crap, I need to stop drinking.”
It rings on and on, and I just stare at it dumbly, not knowing what to do.
“Uhhh,” Claire says, “so are you going to answer it or not? He clearly wants to talk to you.”
I hang up and throw the phone down on the bed. I can’t face talking to him right now. Hell, I can barely even remember what he looks like. But as soon as the phone hits the bedsheets, it starts ringing again.
Persistent, isn’t he?
“Tess, you’re being childish,” Claire says, exasperated. “If you won’t talk to him, I will. You need to know what’s going on, and I want to find out just what you two lovebirds got up to last night . . .”
Before she can answer the phone, I spring forward with a surprising burst of speed and wrestle it from her.
“No!” I shout. “I just can’t! It’s too embarrassing, and I don’t want to make this any more complicated than it needs to be.”
I turn the phone off.
“I’ll send him an email,” I say firmly. “That way I can organize my thoughts, only say what I need to, and we can get this whole mess sorted out and I can forget it ever happened.”
“An email?!” Claire says. “Are you for real?”
But I’m already booting up my laptop. Just one problem: I don’t even know my husband’s middle name, let alone his goddamn email address.
“Claire, what comp
any does he work for?” I ask.
She rolls her eyes, thoroughly cheesed off with me.
“Alder Investments,” she replies, moodily. “It’s one of the biggest hedge funds in the world or something like that. How can you not even know who this guy is, Tess? He’s in all the magazines, like, every week.”
I shrug. “I don’t read them. Honestly, after everything that happened with my last marriage, I just haven’t been that interested in guys.”
I search the Internet for Alder Investments and find their slick corporate website. A few minutes of digging, and I spot what appears to be Luke’s personal email address.
I take a deep breath and start typing.
Luke
“Luke, seriously, I’m talking here now as a friend who only has your best interests at heart. You need to listen to me, and understand what I’m saying. You fucked up, you made a mistake, and it’s time to move on from it. Let me handle the girl, you focus on—”
I hold up my hand and cut Brock off, genuinely pissed at him.
“She’s my wife, not just ‘a girl’. And I’m not going to have you dictate to me what I can and can’t do in my personal life, okay?”
He throws up his hands in despair. “You’ve only known her for one night, Luke! I’ve seen you with dozens of girls over the years. Why is this one so different?”
I stop and think for a moment. Why is she different? It’s hard to say, but there was just something about her last night—her lust for life, her willingness to be different, the fact that she wasn’t slobbering all over me just because of my money and my fame.
I don’t really feel like opening up to Brock right now though, so I just opt for the flippant response.
“I didn’t marry any of those chicks, Brock, that’s the difference. How could I call myself a good man if I didn’t treat the sanctity of marriage seriously?”
He rolls his eyes at me. “I don’t think you’re taking this as seriously as you should be, Luke. If your new wife decides she wants half of your shit, we’ll have one hell of a fight on our hands. That kind of uncertainty and instability is exactly what the markets don’t like, and it is bad news for your business interests.”
I yawn and shovel a generous slice of pancake into my mouth. All that running around last night has made me seriously hungry.
“She doesn’t strike me as the money-grubbing type, you know? I don’t think I’ll have any issues with that. And besides, why are you talking like this marriage is doomed to fail? We obviously did it for a reason. There was a real spark there.”
He’s getting seriously agitated now, and I can’t help but be slightly amused at how wound up he’s getting.
“You don’t even know her, for fuck’s sake. She could already be married with kids for all you know. She could be a pro, with a team of expert divorce lawyers already on retainer, just ready to suck you dry. A guy in your position, with your assets, just can’t go around getting married willy-nilly to any random strange woman who catches your eye.”
He clutches his head in despair. “Am I going insane? Am I the only one around here who understands the gravity of the situation you find yourself in?”
I stand up and go over to him, putting an arm around his shoulders and guiding him to a couch. “Brock, my man, you need to relax a little. Seriously, this shit will age you. Sit down, have a drink, and let me handle my wife.”
He glances at his watch. “A drink? It’s 10 a.m.!”
“So? We’re in Vegas, dude. It’s allowed.”
I open a $3000 bottle of Grey Goose Magnum and pour him a generous measure. He looks at the proffered glass doubtfully, then downs it. A sigh escapes from his lips as he leans back into the couch.
“Now, as your boss, I’m ordering you to sit there, have a couple more drinks, and just chill the fuck out. I’ll deal with my marital affairs.”
Brock looks defeated. He knows how stubborn I can be, and he knows that it’ll be pointless to argue with me. He’s right—those traits are what’s allowed me to be so successful; my instincts rarely prove to be wrong.
And my instincts tell me that I want to find out more about the mysterious woman who is now my wife. Trouble is, she’s playing hard to get and not answering my calls.
I thought the honeymoon period was supposed to last longer than a single night.
As I’m mulling over how best to find her, my phone vibrates in my pocket. Not my personal cell—I switched that to silent as soon as I woke up because it was ringing off the hook non-stop. No, this is my work phone.
I turn it on and see an email sitting in my private inbox.
This is weird, because I specifically told Chris, the intern who’s doubling as my personal assistant, not to forward me any work emails while I’m off. The inbox should have remained empty until I returned to work after this Vegas trip.
Apparently, though, Chris thought this was either urgent or didn’t count as a “work email.” Maybe it’s time to hire a new personal assistant.
Intrigued, I open the email. Embarrassingly, my heart does a little flip as I see who it’s from.
Tessa Elliott.
I open the email with bated breath. It’s short, and only takes me a minute to read.
Hi,
We need to get this situation fixed. I’m sure you’re as eager as I am to make it all go away.
You don’t need to worry. I don’t want any of your money. I just want the marriage annulled, and to move on with my life. It was a silly, drunken mistake, and I’m sure you feel exactly the same.
If you can liaise with me, and let me know what steps we need to take to get this fixed, that would be great.
T
P.S. I don’t need to see you, we can just communicate via email. The last thing I want is to have to deal with crowds of tabloid press following me everywhere I go.
Liaise? Damn, this thing reads like a fucking business email, not something from my wife.
No way, I decide, can we just leave it like this. I had one of the best nights of my life last night, and I’m not about to just let that go without even trying to make it work.
I type up my response.
Some of the best decisions in my life have been made when I’m drunk. I’m not doing anything until we talk about this. In person.
I add my work cell number to the bottom of the email, and within seconds she calls me. I pick up, my heart pounding in my chest.
Damn, how did this girl get her hooks so deep into me after just one night?
“What do you want from me?” She sounds pissed.
We’re off to a good start, then.
“Nothing at all,” I reply. “If you truly want to ditch me, I won’t stand in your way. I just feel like . . . well, last night meant something to me. You mean something to me, and I won’t just destroy that without even trying. So meet me, we can talk about things, and then decide what to do.”
“I’d really rather not.” She sighs deeply. “Look, Luke, I had a good time last night, I really did. I’m sure you’re a great guy. But we don’t even know each other. I’ve got a new job, I need to leave Vegas, and I just don’t have the time or energy to make this any more complicated than it needs to be. Help me out here, please?”
I mull it over, but I just can’t let her slip away this easily.
“Sorry,” I say, “but no deal. You know, they say communication is the most important thing in a marriage.”
It’s a bad joke. I know it’s a bad joke . . . but I just can’t help myself.
She hangs up on me.
Great. Real smooth, idiot.
Tessa
Two Weeks Later
I feel like crap. And my surroundings aren’t helping.
I’m sitting in the waiting room of a lawyer’s office. It’s a poky, little space, with a bored looking receptionist playing with her phone. A sad, dying little plant sits beside her desk.
Faded photographs hang on the walls of the lawyers with various “celebrity” clients (none of whom
I recognize). It’s fair to say that this isn’t the most illustrious of lawyers, but he offers free initial consultations, and free is all I can afford right now.
I gulp as I imagine the army of lawyers that my husband likely has access to, and just hope he doesn’t have any need to use them.
I’ve got a headache, I feel bloated as all hell, and all the temple massaging in the world isn’t helping matters any. My period is due, so maybe it’s just a touch of PMS?
Before I have any more time to dwell on it, the door at the back of the room opens and the lawyer beckons me in.
He looks a little run down, and his cheap suit has certainly seen better days, but he has kind eyes and ushers me into his little office quietly and gently.
“So,” he says, “what can I help you with?”
I take a deep breath and fill him in on the situation, taking care to point out that it’s really out of character for me, and that I don’t usually marry strangers in a drunken stupor.
He smiles and holds up his hands. “Hey, there’s no judgement here. I’m just here to help you out and get this fixed for you.”
He looks over the papers I brought with me and thinks for a few moments.
“There’s some good news and some bad news. You can get the marriage annulled, assuming your husband is in agreement with regards to the circumstances. The bad news is, that because we’re not in the state where the marriage took place, you’ll need to have been resident here for thirty days before you can apply for that. It could have been done in Nevada, though.”
I sigh deeply. I wanted to get it all fixed before I left Vegas, but Luke being so stubborn meant that it hadn’t happened. He insisted on meeting for some reason, and I had not been up to that.
And besides, I had to leave quickly to start my new job. I figured Claire could help me out with anything that needed to be done in Nevada.
I don’t know what it is about me and marriage, but bad luck seems to follow me around when it comes to matters of the heart. I should just swear off men forever; that would make my life so much simpler.
