Hannah Hughes caught a glimpse of herself in the glass near the coffee shop on her way home--bland gray wool pants, a gray shirt and her blue winter coat bundled against the wind. Her shivering bones missed sunny Miami, but that life was over, and that silly woman she’d been was gone and would never return. Without makeup or designer clothes, she was a shell of the girl she'd been last year, before the plane crash that had killed her mom and dad.
That girl was as dead as her parents.
Her phone buzzed again so she pulled it from her coat pocket. Her brother Harrison. She hadn't talked to him since the funeral, a year ago.
How had it been that long?
She closed her eyes and thought of her brother, who in college, had dragged her from a fraternity party after exposing another boy who’d tried to drug her drink. Protective was Harrison’s middle name. If she answered the phone and explained her absence, he’d tell her to come home and they’d build a case against the man who’d taken her money.
All she had to do was answer the phone—it shouldn’t hurt to accept a hand from someone who genuinely cared. Pride was a stupid sin that should have died with the naïve version of her. It would be nice not to worry about paying her bills again or finishing her MBA because of tuition payments.
Until a few months ago, she’d had no idea that a full time job hardly paid the rent and often left her budgeting between groceries or the internet.
But in order to return to the warm bright sun of Miami, she'd have to admit to her brother, her only family left, that she’d royally screwed up her life.
The frigid air of the city entered her lungs and made her cough. Harry was probably wearing his sunglasses, relaxing on the sun deck of his yacht with a glass of iced tea as he floated over aquamarine waters with bright blue skies above his head. The vision of life at the beach house made her long for the light of the tropical sun. It was better than dark clouds that blocked all views and just made Washington DC even drearier.
She clicked the side so the phone wouldn't ring anymore and let the call go to voicemail, sticking it back in her pocket. Harry would never understand why she hadn’t called him sooner and he’d never let her forget it. The cold caused a persistent tickle in her throat. The scent of coffee traveled to the sidewalk when a smiling young businessman opened the door, hot drink steaming in his hand. “Morning,” he said.
“Morning.”
Hannah pulled out her wallet and counted her cash—a measly few dollars—as she stared through the window at the line of people ordering lattes. Once upon a time, she'd been one of them. She took a deep breath that iced her lungs. Coffee would be yummy and thaw her out.
It was time to start living again. The past year had flown past and she'd been numb with grief over losing her parents. She lifted her chin, ignored the whip of the wind against her skin and decided to spend her last few dollars on something to get warm. Hannah went inside the coffee shop.
She eyed the prices with trepidation as she made her way to the line. The savory, coffee-tinged air made her stomach grumble and the cake pops in the display case had her mouthwatering. As she glanced at the price list, she frowned. Five to seven dollars for fancy coffee seemed extravagant. A year ago, she'd have never noticed and ordered her favorite peppermint latte without caring about money.
Part of her wished she could turn back the clock. She wished she could see how happy she'd been and pay attention to the time spent with her parents, who had provided without limit. Now, she counted her pennies from a thankless job that didn’t pay nearly enough. She studied the menu for the least expensive thing and when it was her turn to order, she told the cashier, "I'd like a black tea, nothing in it."
The teenager with long, blond curls was pleasant as he nodded at her. "Yes, ma'am." He went to prepare her tea without judging—he didn’t know she was flat broke.
Okay. She took a deep breath and stared at her brother's text message. Hannah, I'm coming to DC for a few days. If you're seeing this, I want to see you again. I miss you.
I can't… She immediately deleted the words she’d typed. How could she tell Harry that she’d screwed up her life so badly in less than a year? He wouldn’t let her count pennies, but this was her own fault. She’d invited that man in her home to pray. She sucked in her lips as she waited for the tea. She had to find a way to fix it. She hit the don't save draft button when prompted. When she was sure the message was gone, she tucked her cell phone back in her pocketbook.
"Here is your tea, ma'am," the teenager said with a smile.
Once she'd been a teenager and that happy just because. She'd been an heiress, not that her bank account showed that anymore. A few careless moments where she’d been grieving had ruined that. She lifted the hot cup, comforting in her chilled hand. "Thanks."
After she paid for her drink, she took a seat at a wooden table with her back to the door and intended to people watch while she enjoyed her tea.
The shop was safe and warm from that ugly day outside and the howling wind.
Several minutes passed as her mind filed away the cast of characters ordering coffee. A few business people in long trench coats, tourists with maps of the city, some folks dressed for a night concert though it was only ten in the morning—what had they been up to? Her shoulders began to relax, but then she heard a voice behind her that made every muscle in her body tense as he said, "Hannah Hughes."
Her spine tingled as her enemy neared the next table. The white-haired charlatan who’d pretended to be a caring preacher with those clear blue eyes of his stood over her.
No. Goosebumps rose on her arms urging her to run, but she wouldn’t. Inside the coffee shop he wasn’t protected by his followers, who’d kicked her out of the church and act like Hannah was the source of evil instead of the false preacher.
She was in a public place, surrounded by people, and he couldn’t hurt her or get her kicked out. She lifted her chin. "Reverend Jensen, are you here to return my money and jewels?"
He motioned toward the seat across from her. His lips were pressed together with false remorse but her skin buzzed a warning not to believe what she saw. He was a gifted liar. "That money and jewels were tithed."
Tithes were freely given. She tucked her hair behind her ear, not wanting anyone to overhear their conversation and know what a fool she'd been after her parents died.
Hannah waved for the reverend to join her and pretended to be her brother Harry during his law school days. She channeled his firm tone and maintained eye contact. "You took every dime in my bank account, without my express permission. And you took my jewels in my home without my offering anything. I’m broke."
Jensen shrugged. "You gave me your debit card and you lived in our communal houses that clearly had a no-jewelry policy, where anything found was given to the Church."
“No, I didn’t give you my card, and the jewelry rule you made up when you saw my diamonds. I moved into my own apartment, but you refused to listen that that I wanted my grandmother’s necklace back.” Her nerves were on edge and she clutched her tea, her limbs starting to shake. Her parents had also been lawyers—she swallowed her fear. "My brother is a lawyer, and a good one. You remembered only when I threatened you at Church. I assume that’s why you finally showed your face here—to return my property?”
Jensen crossed his arms like he wasn't upset at all. "Look, I came to discuss a way for you to earn everything back plus some."
Every cent he’d stolen? She’d left Miami with her best friend Caitlyn, who’d broken up with her brother Harry before their wedding, and the two of them had gone on this spiritual journey together that turned out to be fraudulent. If she fixed her own mistake, she could go home and forget DC. She’d never once dreamed anyone would steal her money and jewels. Her ears burned, but she sipped her tea and pretended she wasn't afraid of being conned again. "You know how I can make one hundred million dollars?"
His eyes had a light in them as if he was offering her the golden calf. Oh goodness, her heart shouldn't race with anticipation. She knew better— Reverend Jensen was a horrible imitation of a good person, but she listened close as he said, "Yes, I've been in contact with a corporate benefactor who needs a specific gentleman to be married and then divorced thirty days later."
The reverend was offering a sham marriage? Marriage was a sacred bond. Her mother and father had loved each other and set her expectations high. Caitlyn had run from her brother because she hadn’t been ready. Surely Jensen knew how Hannah felt about marriage. Her legs shook but she stayed seated. What kept her in her chair was hope to end her current state of working poverty. "So if I marry and then divorce this man of your choosing, you'll give me my money back?"
The smooth fabric of his suit jacket slid across the wooden table top when he sighed. "Actually, no. The church appreciates your gifts and they can’t be returned. You'll be paid by a private company."
A third, unknown party. She swallowed. On one hand it was probably safer as she didn't trust Jensen. If she said yes, she'd spend every second wondering if he'd keep his end of the bargain. She narrowed her gaze and tried to focus on details. "Is he a foreigner who needs a temporary wife or a green card or something?"
Jensen shook his head. "From what I understand his family immigrated legally when he was a child and he doesn't need your citizenship. What the company wants is for you to divorce this man after thirty days and have that divorce on record."
She took the lid of her cup off and swirled the water. This sounded unbelievable. She probably should just say no and call home. Harry would help her, but then she'd have to confess her stupidity. All her life she’d been the silly girl that never did anything serious when her parents and then eventually even her brother were out there at the top of their legal field. If she told him, he'd see he’d been right. She was weak. She shook her head. "This sounds super sketchy."
Jensen reached for her hand and she immediately pulled it out of his way. "I can get you the contract in an hour, if you're willing. You can read all the details for yourself."
Reading didn't commit her. If she spent thirty days married and then divorced, no one had to know how gullible she’d been. And her inheritance meant she could quit her horrible desk job that sucked her soul out of her. "Get me the contract, Jensen. I want my money back."
Jensen didn't move. "I don't want you to sue me."
Her only trump card. Of course he wanted to protect his reputation. Sue him, and make the fact she’d been swindled public? Or, get her money back and no one needed to know anything the past year. Caitlyn wouldn’t say a word as she was in the same boat and maybe they could both go home to their lives. Hannah’s heart calmed and her legs were less jumpy. She tipped her head. "If I get my money back and you get me back my mother's jewelry, which were never tithed despite your claim on that commune, I won't involve my brother."
Jensen's chair screeched against the linoleum flooring as he scooted back. "I'll get the contract and jewelry. I’ll be back in less than an hour."
Hannah watched the door, uncertain. This was insane. She’d been stupid before and all she wanted was to reset her life and go home.
A few minutes later, she decided she could spend five dollars. Her old life, where she could do or have anything she wanted tasted, sweet in her mouth. Thirty days wasn't the end of the world. She'd gone a year already not feeling. What was one more month? There were only two people at the register, so she hopped in line.
The blond teenager gave her a goofy smile. “Another tea?”
"I'm going to need coffee,” she said, looking back to the table where she’d been sitting. “This time make it a peppermint mocha with an extra shot of expresso."
His expression turned serious. "Was that man bothering you, ma'am?"
How sweet—but she would take care of herself. She'd been too trusting which was how Reverend Jensen initially had her believe in him. He’d listened to her grief and offered his commune as a retreat away from her troubles in exchange for helping others. No one thought she was capable of much, but she should have guessed she’d been set up. "We might be working together,” Hannah said. On getting my money back.
He wrote her order on a cup. "Dude looks sketchy. If you need help, let me know."
The teenager was clearly a lot smarter than she’d been. She paid and tipped a buck. "Thanks. I wish I had your clarity last year."
She listened to the milk steam and hope tempted her to have faith that all would be well. Soon she'd be 100% back to normal. If she married and divorced she’d be home in thirty days and out of this cold winter.
Life would start again.
A smile formed until the kid looked to the door. He handed her the cup of heaven and said, "He's back."
Fair enough. She shook off the smile, knowing she needed to watch her back. Jensen must have been very close because there was no way he’d been gone for an hour. Java in hand, she returned to her seat.
Jensen pushed a thick heavy paper bag toward her and an envelope. "Here is the contract, Hannah, and your mother's jewelry."
The pearls and diamonds, including the cushioned diamond ring her mother had worn, that she’d said had belonged to her father's grandmother, were all there. She kept the bag in her lap and removed the papers from the envelope.
Her heart raced as she read the contract terms. Her gaze narrowed, and she looked at Jensen's clause. Jensen was charged with finding multiple brides and Hannah imagined he’d ask Caitlyn and Lois, as they had their own issues with Jensen and had left the commune at the same time. "It says you get a finder's fee for six women willing to marry and divorce. Are you offering the same deal to my friends?"
“Caitlyn and Lois have both already agreed, so the three of you will be together in this for 30 days if you also choose to sign the contract.” Jensen, on the edge of his seat, adjusted his slacks over his knees. Was he nervous? "This solves all your issues and the finder's fee will keep my church open for five years."
"Wait. I don't want to know anymore." Everything he might tell her would be a lie. She held up her hand to get him to stop—all she wanted was to restore her finances and go home. Nothing else mattered. She noted to herself the name of the company who would pay her. "I need to look up Kirno Incorporated. I'd like a financial statement to know they have the money before I agree to anything."
Jensen pointed to the next section. "Once you sign, you are entitled to 25% of the full amount. After you marry, you get the next 25%. When you file for the divorce, you get the third 25% and once the divorce is finalized, you get the last payment. You can have 50 million this afternoon if you sign and get married today. You'll know if they have money from the first payment alone."
True. She'd have 25 million in the bank just for signing. Her heart beat grew faster. When Harry came to DC, she'd be able to meet him without telling him about her mistake. She'd simply tell him that she’d be home soon and mean her words.
With a glare at Jensen she picked up a pen and tapped it on the table. This was a start.
She read each line carefully, then flipped the page. Her husband’s name was…her entire body stilled. Logan Bentley, former stock market king. Wow. Hannah read the name again. The Bentley family was notorious—according to what she’d read in the news, they’d stolen billions of the world economy and kept it for themselves. But her parents had been his parents’ lawyers and though they never really spoke in school, it was hard to imagine Logan as some evil criminal. This was bad. Everyone would know if she married this man—it wasn't something she could hide. She pushed the papers back. "The groom is Logan Bentley?"
"Yes, is that a problem?" Jensen asked. "I wondered if he’d be part of your circle in Miami."
“I don’t know him exactly though we went to the same high school.” Her parents had spoken kindly of the family for years when they discussed casework at the dinner table, but that was before they died. "The Bentley family has been all over the news. Theft."
“They are in jail but will be out on bail soon.” Jensen pushed the papers toward her. "I'm sure it will make the news. But you'll have your money back and can return to your old lifestyle immediately. Will you be beside Logan Bentley or not? I have another woman in mind if you decide not to…"
If she signed, she could by her own mochas without stress. And this was only temporary. She let the pen fall on the table as she tried to think. If people discovered she’d married Logan Bentley, she'd explain it somehow. Perhaps she could say they knew each other years ago instead of just passing each other in the halls. They were both from Miami.
The wind howled and shook the glass window. The gray sky seemed like it would snow again soon. If she went home, she’d never be cold again. Plus, if no money was deposited, she wasn't harmed at all. The entire contract was void and she'd sue Jensen for every dime he’d stolen from her, swallowing her pride. She tapped her fingers on the table. "Fine. I will do whatever I can to get my money back.” Hannah knew marriage and divorce happened all the time. What could go wrong?
Jensen handed her the pen. This time she signed and when she was done, her shoulders bowed. Had she just been tricked again?
Jensen grabbed the paper from her and folded it in his bag. He stood. "Good. I wanted you for this one because it makes us even and our business will be done. If I can give you advice though, I’d tell you not to fall for the billionaire playboy type. You’re too good for him. Give me an hour to finalize this and then please check your account."
She rose and out of habit offered to shake his hand. Her father always stared hard at any man or woman he signed deals with before he'd died. Harry probably adopted the same attitude and she admitted, "This money will help me face my brother again and go home with my head high."
Jensen stepped back but kept his head down. "Pride is a sin-"
And so was getting married with the intention of a divorce. She interrupted him fast, not wanting to hear from Jensen or his opinions. "And you are never going to give me another lecture on right or wrong."
He nodded and took a step to leave. "I'll get your money in your account and then this afternoon, go to the prison and earn the second half."
"The contract was clear. Goodbye." She sat back in her chair.
She waited until he disappeared into the bitterly cold wind and sipped her latte. The peppermint flavor soothed her throat. So what if she married a bad boy, who might have stolen billions? It was temporary and from her distant memories of Logan, it felt doubtful he’d be that bad. Everything might be okay. If she could go home, and tell no one what happened this year, she could, in time, forget.
A newspaper beckoned from the next table and she picked it up to relax and enjoy her coffee. There was the Bentley family. Logan's picture was the second one down on the left, where the newspaper displayed their crimes and the family like they were the evil, dark-haired, foreign-born and attractive Brady Bunch. Logan Bentley was a stock broker, which meant he was probably heavily involved in all their family crimes.
But it didn't matter. This was only 30 days. She’d never fallen for a bad boy and wouldn't start now though part of her wanted to just because Jensen had warned her away from Logan earlier.
Finally she picked up her phone and texted her brother back. I can't wait to see you. Send me your hotel info.
Three dots showed Harry typed back fast with the information.
Good. She'd reestablish her relationship with her older brother and start fresh building a family without their parents at the head. Logan Bentley was a temporary train ride to return to life as she’d known it.