Her Fantasy Husband (Things to do Before You Die… #2)

Shock flashed through him, followed by a wave of anger, and his fists curled on the table. “What?”


She grinned at that. “Yeah. Never going to happen. Anyway, at first I thought I’d let them go off to New York. I’d take my place at Oxford. I could get a job, leave the whole horrid mess behind and forget about them. But then I needed some money, and she wouldn’t release it.”

“What for?”

“Well, not partying. I used to volunteer at this rescue center. They had a fire and were going to have to close down. I wanted to help. My grandmother thought it a bad investment. I talked to Uncle Jamie, but he didn’t think the trust could be broken.”

She’d finally finished the pizza and sat back with her glass of red wine. She sipped it. “I was so angry. I’d never felt like that before. Furious. I told Uncle Jamie that I was going to find a man to marry me. He didn’t believe me at first, but I must have convinced him—or scared him enough to take me seriously. He said he’d find me someone suitable. Someone who wouldn’t try to cheat me or take advantage of me.” She cast him a pointed look. “Or try and divorce me before my twenty-fourth birthday.” She smiled sweetly. “That’s you.”

James Frobisher had been his commanding officer in the SAS. One of the few men Josh truly admired.

“So, you see,” she continued. “You really do have an obligation. You promised me five years and five months. You’re a man of honor—Jamie said so. You’re duty-bound to not let me down.” She gave him a narrow-eyed stare. “Certainly not for something as shallow as no-strings-sex.”

He hated that she had a point, but she did. When he’d decided this, he’d presumed that whatever reason she’d married him no longer existed. He’d thought he would get no opposition.

But Christ, he wanted that sex.

He had a flashback to the feel of her hot, tight pussy around him, her little moans as she came so sweetly for him. He shifted in his seat.

“So did you save your dogs’ home?”

She gave him a wide grin. “I did.” After swallowing the last of her wine, she put the glass on the table, then bent down and rummaged in her bag, pulling out a laptop. “I wanted to show you some of the work we’ve been doing.”

“We?”

“My team. I set up a registered charity a few years back. We provide funding for all sorts of things, including a string of no-kill rescue centers around the country. But stuff overseas as well. We build schools, train teachers, employ vets who work in places where the animals would likely not get any treatment otherwise. We’ve dug wells, planted trees, trained farmers.” She tapped a few keys on the laptop, then turned it around and pushed it toward him.

He scanned the information quickly; it was a list of current projects, and he clicked the links on a couple and read the details—an agricultural training center in Zambia, a cooperative fishing venture in Malawi… He glanced up and found her watching him eagerly. It was clear she was passionate about what she did.

“Just how much money do you have, Lexi?”

Her smile widened. “I’m not sure exactly, but lots. Millions. My dad was in right at the beginning of the internet companies. And he was super clever. When he died, the companies were sold—Jamie had no interest in running them—and the money put into the trust.”

“Are you likely to run out any time soon?”

“No. I haven’t actually touched the capital, only the interest. Jamie got me a really smart financial advisor.”

“Good,” he said a little weakly. The sums of money involved must be huge. And the woman who owned it all was sitting across from him eating pizza, wearing tattered jeans, and sharing a house with a chicken. His head spun.

“So you see,” she said, gazing at him earnestly, “an annulment really isn’t an option. Or a divorce just yet. If grandmother found out our marriage wasn’t real, she could make things very difficult.”

“She couldn’t actually get her hands on the money?”

“My lawyer doesn’t think so. But it could tie up the money while it was sorted and that would delay all the works-in-progress. There are a lot of people relying on me.”

“Not to mention a lot of chickens.” He’d noticed the battery hen rehabilitation project half way down the list.

“Exactly.”

Bollocks.

Lexi was one of those rare things—a genuinely good person.

Unfortunately, his life right now would be a lot simpler if she were a money-grubbing little rich bitch.

He sighed. She was right. He couldn’t do it.

Life wasn’t fair.

When he remained silent, she reached across and took his hand. “I won’t hold you any longer than I have to. As soon as I turn twenty-four, we can start the divorce. It might look a little suspicious, but I think it will be okay.”