ACCIDENTALLY IN MATRIMONY

Chapter 1

Cassie Meets Greyson

It had been a hectic day for Cassie. Besides juggling a million tasks as her father’s Social Media Manager at Hunter Enterprises—a job she genuinely enjoyed—she was determined to plan her entire wedding alone. No help, no meddling, not even from her mother. She wanted to prove she wasn’t some damsel in distress. To cap it off, she now raced to a 3:00 PM meeting with the country’s top real estate firm. Cassie Hunter was never late.

Normally, she’d use the company car, but today she’d opted for her Panamera Turbo GTS. Masculine? Maybe. But she loved its bold statement. As she strode into GC Holdings’ sleek lobby, the elevator doors parted—and time froze.

Greyson Christianson stood inside. Dark blond hair, storm-gray eyes, a powder-blue shirt clinging to his athletic frame. Society pages never did him justice. Their gazes locked, and her heart somersaulted.

*Get a grip. You’re engaged.*

She smoothed her powder-blue pencil dress—damn, they matched—and marched to reception. Greyson’s low voice carried through the lobby, phone pressed to his ear. His eyes kept darting her way.

Cassie texted Meagan Christianson, her realtor contact: *Running late?*

The reply came instantly: *Family emergency. My brother Greyson’s covering—he’s the best!*

Cassie grimaced. The universe had jokes.

One by one, clients were whisked away until only she remained. Greyson finally ended his call. “Miss Cassandra Hunter?”

She stood, chin high. “Cassie. And you’re *Meagan’s* brother?”

His smirk could melt glaciers. “Guilty. Though you’re not what I expected. Preppy little thing booking appointments at nightclubs?”

She bristled. “The club hosted a charity auction. Meagan bid on my vintage Chanel.”

“Ah.” His gaze raked over her. “Still can’t picture you slumming it.”

“Let’s focus. I need to view properties by five. Dinner reservations at Tony’s.”

“Tony’s?” He barked a laugh. “Predictable.”

The elevator dinged. They stepped in, tension crackling like live wires. Cassie caught their reflection—matching blues, furious blushes. A twisted bridal photoshoot.

Then the lights died.

The car jerked. Greyson crashed to the floor as Cassie grabbed the rail, her bag exploding like a piñata. Darkness swallowed them.

“Dammit!” Greyson’s voice cracked. Fists pounded metal. “HELP! GET US OUT!”

Cassie’s watch glowed. She tapped her phone’s flashlight on, illuminating panic-wide gray eyes.

“Breathe,” she ordered, grasping his shoulders. “In… out… with me.”

He shuddered against her. “Can’t… walls…”

“You’re safe. I’ve got you.” His citrus-cedar scent mixed with something darker—fear sweat. Slowly, his breathing synced with hers.

They slid to the floor. Cassie handed him her water bottle. “Drink.”

He drained it. “Selfish much?”

“Says the man who eye-fucked me in the lobby.”

A beat. Then twin snorts of laughter.

“Two hours minimum,” Greyson admitted when she asked about rescue times. “Generators prioritize hospitals.”

Cassie kicked off her heels. “Your turn. Why the elevator phobia?”

He stiffened. “Not your business.”

“Fine.” She rummaged for her lip balm. “But FYI? Women bolt because you’re emotionally constipated, not because of some trauma.”

“You—”

Lights flared. The elevator lurched upward.

Greyson’s hand shot out, stopping her stumble. Palm to palm, electricity arced between them. His thumb brushed her knuckle—where her engagement ring should’ve been.

Cassie yanked back. Her diamond glittered in his other hand.

“Yours?” His voice roughened.

She snatched it. “None of yours.”

The doors opened to frantic staff. Greyson stood, all business again. “Miss Hunter? Your viewing.”

She slipped the ring on, its weight suddenly suffocating. “Lead the way.”