Page 14 of Accidentally Marrying the Billionaire

Her expressive green eyes meet mine. “Yes,” she says brightly. “A very elaborate, very expensive game.”

I swallow hard. “And when you signed the prenup?” I ask.

She shrugs. “A very impressive and legal-looking prop.”

That does it. I laugh—low, disbelieving, helpless.

“This is unbelievable,” I say.

“Oh no, if you weren’t playing the game, then what were you thinking was happening?”

So I explain to her about how I was supposed to marry the other Evelyn Barlow, the real princess, to save her from an arranged marriage.

“But she and your brother fell in love for real on the way here?”

“Evidently.”

She puts a hand on my knee. “I’m sorry.”

“I’d never met her. There were no feelings involved.”

“Oh well, that’s good, I suppose.”

“But,” I say with caution. “There is the thing with our marriage.”

“Right. Because it wasn’t part of a game.”

“And the prenup wasn’t a prop, but rather a legally binding contract.”

She eyes me, her eyes narrowing a little. “Can you explain it to me like I’m a kindergarten teacher?”

“The prenup requires us to stay married for six months. And includes a cohabitation clause.”

“A what now?”

“Six months,” I repeat. “We’re required to remain married and living together before either of us can dissolve the union. I live in Austin, Texas. Does that work for you?”

She stares at me.

Then she blinks.

“The prenup made sense for the original scenario,” I say quickly. “It was meant to protect both parties. Optics. Stability.”

Then she laughs. Like full-on hysterical laughter that has tears streaming down her face. She holds her stomach. “Only I would accidentally marry a stranger in Vegas, and we live in the same damn city.”

“You live in Austin?”

“I do. How bananas is that?”

“Total bananas,” I say.

“So now you and I are just stuck?”

“For six months,” I confirm. “Unless your legal name isn’t Evelyn Barlow.”

“Nope, that is, in fact, my name. I can give you my ID in case you want to run a background check or whatever. Make sure I’m not an evil mastermind or something.”

“I’m not going to say I didn’t wonder initially. But I trust you,” I say, realizing I completely mean that.