Two weeks later...

The hall is full to the brim with dignitaries and some of the most important people in the country. The governor is even in attendance.

“Do you, Melissa Richardson, take Jeremiah Blackthorne to be your beloved husband?” The priest peers down at me.

I hesitate. My eyes roam the crowd until they land on two figures seated in the front row. My brother, Jason, waves at me brightly with the careless innocence of a child. The man beside him moves to drape a hand over his shoulder, and my heart skips a beat. The warning is loud and clear.

I quickly return my attention to the billionaire standing before me and force the most dazzling smile I can muster. “Yes, I do.”

Jeremiah Blackthorne watches me coldly, without a smile, as he slips the ring onto my shaky finger. I hurriedly drop my hands to hide how much they are trembling.

My fate is sealed. There’s no turning back now.

“You may kiss the bride,” the priest’s voice is nearly drowned by the loud cheers from the crowd as Jeremiah presses his lips to mine. The kiss is cold, hard, and brief.

“I’m going to kill you,” he whispers against my lips. I freeze for a moment.

Then I pull back, plastering on a fake smile.

Together, we turn to face the congregation, holding up our intertwined fingers.

I am nearly blinded by the barrage of camera flashes that go off at once. The paparazzi call for us to pose as gold confetti rains down in torrents.

Security emerges immediately to escort us out of the hall and safely to one of the cars waiting outside. Once the car door shuts, Jeremiah releases my hand and grabs me by the throat.

“You fraud! What have you done with my bride? Who are you?” He demands in a dangerous tone.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Jeremy. It’s me, Melissa.” I bat my lashes and try to smile sweetly.

Just as he opens his mouth to respond, the car door opens, and he quickly drops his hand.

The security personnel hesitates, looking between Jeremiah and me. “Am I interrupting something?”

“No, Elias,” Jeremiah arranges himself. “You can proceed with the plan.” His voice is reassuring. The man, Elias, glances between us, hesitates a moment longer, then shuts the car door and leaves.

“Enjoy yourself for now you fraud” Jeremiah levels me with a cold gaze.

“This is far from over.” I sense the threat behind his words.

What have I gotten myself into?

**** **** **** ****

Eventually, the ceremonies and after-parties come to an end. I find myself stepping into a car, following Jeremiah Blackthorne home. When we arrive at the house, he doesn’t give me a moment to admire the mansion before he pulls me by the arm and drags me upstairs.

He stops in front of a door and pulls me inside. Then he slams me against the wall, pinning my hands above me. I gasp.

“Listen to me very carefully. I will ask you this only once, and your answer will determine what happens next.” He pauses to let his words sink in. I gulp in fear.

“Who are you? And where is Melissa Richardson?”

I stare back into his grey eyes; they are dark as a brewing storm. I can sense that he’s a dangerous man, and lying now would only worsen my fate. How did my life get so f*cked?

“My name is Melissa Rogers, and I don’t know where Melissa Richardson is.”

He clenches his jaw. “I knew it. You look exactly like Mel, but you’re nothing like her. The similarities end in your looks.” His gaze trails the length of my body, and I squirm in his grip, feeling exposed. I don’t like how he’s staring at my breasts.

To divert his attention, I say the first thing that comes to mind. “You’re wrong. Melissa and I have more in common. Neither of us wanted to marry you.”

He goes still—dangerously still. I think I’ve hit a sore spot.

“Repeat what you just said.” His eyes blaze with anger, and he tightens his grip on my wrists.

For some reason, it triggers my own anger.

“I said your sweetheart ran away from home to avoid getting married to a prick like you!” I shout, seething. “Now unhand me before I knee you in the groin!”

He blinks in surprise for a second, then his eyes darken. “You’re lying. You’re saying this to get under my skin. Something must have happened to my Mel.”

“I do not give a fu*k about you, Jeremiah Blackthorne. The last thing I want is to get under your skin.” I struggle to free my hands, but his grip is firm. I’m helplessly pinned against the wall. I raise my right leg to knee him but he grabs my thigh firmly and steps closer, positioning himself between my legs. His hand is hot against my naked thigh, I try to slow my breathing.

“Why are you here? If you don’t care like you claim, why did you accept the ring and pretend to be my bride?”

He leans closer until I can feel his warm breath on my face—his lips are dangerously close to mine. Our kiss ended too quickly during the church wedding. I consider biting his bottom lip and sucking on it.

Focus, Mel.

I snap my gaze back to his grey eyes. “Because I don’t have a choice. My brother’s life is on the line. You have to pretend like I’m Mellisa Richardson and give me half of your shares.”

“What?” He releases me in shock. I rub my wrists and glare at him. It’s good I’ve told him now, so he’ll let his guard down and trust me. Then I can start working on getting those shares without making him suspicious.

“Mel was going to marry me because of my shares?” His eyes bulge in disbelief.

“No, dummy. Her family was going to marry her off for your shares. The b!tch was smart enough to escape though. Lucky her.” I walk toward the bed, eager to sit down now that the cat is out of the bag.

Jeremiah follows me as if in a daze, sinking beside me on the bed.

“But she would have told me if it was because of her family. Mel wouldn’t leave like that,” he whispers, lost in thought.

I scoff. “Anyone would leave if it meant getting far away from you.”

He ignores me as he buries his face in his hands. For a moment, we sit there feeling sorry for ourselves, until I get tired and ask, “Now what?”

He looks at me as if I’ve sprouted an extra head. “Now we find Melissa and get her back.”

His cluelessness drives me crazy and I completely lose my mind in anger. I grab the collar of his shirt and pull him close.

“You don’t seem to get the memo, Mr. Billionaire. Your Melissa ran away because she didn’t want to marry you. What part of rejection do you not understand?”

He looks at me in shock, and I stare back, fuming.

The look on his face gives me pause as realization dawns on me. I burst into laughter.

“You’ve never been rejected before, have you?” I pause for breath before continuing to laugh.

“Oh, poor Jeremiah Blackthorne, who doesn’t understand the concept of rejection!” I laugh until I can barely breathe, clutching my sides.

He just watches me, his face going red with embarrassment. I don’t pity him; I continue laughing.

Just as he opens his mouth to respond, the bedroom door bursts open. I look up to see the intruder, and the laughter dies on my lips. The