The Womanizer's Mute Wife

KIER

“Welcome back, fam! Live and loud from the city’s hottest spot!” I tilted my phone toward the crowd, pulsing lights, bass shaking the floor. The chat exploded with heart emojis and comments drooling over me.

I leaned back in the VIP booth, black shirt half-buttoned, glass of champagne in hand. “You’re watching the Kier Blackwood channel, the life you can’t afford but love to watch,” I said with a smirk.

The comments poured in. Kier, you’re a god! Notice me! What’s tonight’s drink?

“Champagne,” I said, raising my glass. “The expensive kind not that store-bought nonsense.” Laughter erupted from the two models beside me. I kissed one of them long enough for the stream to lose its mind, then ended the live.

The next thing I knew, my alarm was screaming in my ear. My skull felt like it had been stomped on by an elephant. I hurled the clock at the wall. “Shut up!”

I rolled over and froze. The body beside me was clothed. And solid.

“I don’t like being groped, Kieran,” came a deep male voice.

I shot upright. “What the hell, Damon?” My driver slash bodyguard. On my bed.

“Your guests were escorted out, sir. On your father’s order.”

Before I could curse him out, the door opened. My father filled the doorway like bad news in a suit. “Get dressed. We need to talk.”

Five minutes later, I was half awake, staring across the table as he dropped a bombshell.

“You’re getting married to Genesis Caldwell. Tomorrow.”

I spat my juice. “You’re joking.”

His expression said otherwise. “No. You’ll marry her, or you lose everything, the money, the penthouse, the company.”

“What? You can’t just…”

“Oh, I can. You’re almost thirty, Kier. No discipline, no focus. You’ll marry her and give me an heir.”

“An heir?” I repeated, my voice cracking. “Dad, I don’t even want a dog!”

He ignored me, sliding a photo across the counter. A girl, maybe from years ago. Not familiar.

“She’s not a teenager,” he said before I could speak. “You knew her as a kid. Genesis Caldwell. You’ll remember her.”

I stared at the photo, something tugging at the edge of my mind, a ghost from another life.

“I’m not doing this,” I said quietly.

He stood, straightening his jacket. “Tomorrow, you will. And trust me, she’s not someone you’ll forget twice.”

The door shut behind him. I sat there, hangover forgotten, heart pounding like a drum.

Married. Tomorrow.

To a stranger I might already know.