1: Are You into threesomes

"Are you into threesomes?" My soon to be husband asked me on our first date.

I was mid-way through my cocktail and it immediately went down the wrong pipe.

I broke into a cough, scrambling for anything to relief the choking.

I didn't know which was worse, the question or the fact that I would be marrying a man I just met, in three days.

The bastard sat across from me in his tailored suit, one leg crossed over the other, unmoving. He had his elbow on the table between us and his temple leaning against his index finger while his ice blue eyes stared into my soul.

I turned red from coughing so much, ignoring the multiple eyes turning my way.

My shaking hands finally reached for a glass of water, anything to clear my airway, and three minutes of prolonged suffering later, I was fine.

After catching my breath, my brows pulled together and I raised my voice, "What?!"

It was my first time meeting Art Wilson. In the big year of 2026, our families were arranging our marriage.

It was pretty common for wealthy families to want to keep their wealth within their circle. My older sister was still married to the man my father had picked for her.

"Why do you seem so shocked?" He shrugged one shoulder and then he leaned forward on the table, closing the distance between us, a small smirk sitting on his lips, "I said, are you into threesomes?"

I stared into his eyes with my narrowed ones.

This man looked like he was straight out of a movie, he was blonde, probably around 6'4, and he had this weird monotonous voice that sent chills down my spine.

I nodded slowly, and then shifted back, "yes, I am."

For the first time on that emotionless face, I saw a slight reaction.

"I'm into threesomes as long as our add on is a guy, who would ever say no to two cocks?"

If he had a drink on his lips, it would have been his turn to choke.

"Cut the crap Wilson." I rolled my eyes and folded my arms across my chest, "before you give me the bullshit, oh, this marriage isn't real, oh you'll only be my wife on paper, yada yada crap," I said, mocking his tone, "I'll beat you to it."

He leaned back, and smiled, "interesting."

"Look," I sighed, "we clearly do not want this marriage, but listen, it's happening." I ran my fingers between my bob. "I don't care what tricks you have up your sleeves but my father isn't backing out, and from the look of things your father isn't either."

Right then, my phone beeped in my hand. I bit my lower lip, pulling my zip open and pulling the phone out.

I scoffed, before flashing the screen in his face, "look at that, it's a text from Dawson, my boyfriend."

He stared at the screen for a bit, reading my text

*What's the update? Are you calling it off?*

I shoved my phone back into my purse and put a blank check in front of him, "name your price Wilson, we can get in this marriage and carry on with our respective lives, you will be my husband on paper and paper only."

He leaned back in his chair and loosened his tie with one hand, the corner of his mouth lifting like he found the whole thing amusing. His fingers tapped once against the armrest before he tilted his head and locked eyes with mine,  “Red, you are just as interesting as your name, I've gotten out of fifteen marriages, what makes you think I can't get out of this one.”

I let out a slow breath through my nose, my brows pulling together as I stared at him, "the fact that you're still going on this set up marriages, shows you can't bring them to stop, listen, you can end it here, we get married but still get to live our individual lives okay?”

"Look," I got to my feet, scrambling through my purse for a business card. I found one and slid it to him, "I have to be at a class soon, call me if you're interested in my offer, or you can keep wife shopping."

I dusted my beige skirt, clutched my purse and turned to leave.

I could feel his eyes on the back of my head the whole time.

I left the fancy restaurant my dad had told me my 'husband' would be at and got into my car.

This was crazy. Our families had arranged the whole wedding, and there was no way out of it.

My only fear had been ending up with a man who actually wanted this marriage, but knowing he did not, gave me the confidence I needed.

I picked up my pace, knowing I would be late to my first class. Today was the first day of my master’s in finance, and lectures started in an hour.

My best friend, Olivia texted me , *how did it go? Give me all the tea!*

My smile faded when Dawson's text came in right after.

*Did you call it off? What did he say Red, I have your fucking location, I can see you leaving, stop fucking ignoring me*

I sighed. Dawson was stressed so I understood his reaction.

We had been together for the three years I was in uni but there was no way my family would approve of us being together.

I tossed my phone into the passenger's seat and drove to Westbridge University.

*

I eased the classroom door open and slipped inside, keeping my head down like that might save me from being noticed. It did not.

The second I stepped in, heads turned. A few students looked up from their laptops, others paused mid-whisper.

I moved down the aisle, spotted an empty seat halfway down the row and made for it, sliding into it fast, dropping my bag by my feet, pushing a strand of hair behind my ear as I pulled out my notebook like I had been here all along.

“I don’t appreciate lateness.”

The voice snapped across the room and sent a jolt straight through me.

My eyes went to the front of the class and then I froze.

Standing there, one hand in his pocket, looking directly at me was the last person I ever expected to see behind a professor’s desk.

Art fucking Wilson.