A Married Man 44 Novels & Stories

"I Understand. All you are trying to say is you value your work more than you do me." "Gehrig, no, listen." "No need to say anything Shirley, I understand perfectly. You've been on the case for what, eight years? More?" The man approached Shirley, pulled incredibly close to her that he could feel her breath on his face. He continued talking. "You are thirty-four babe, just six years more then you are forty. When are we going to get the time to have the three kids that we talked about? When are we going to have Jeremy... Daenerys... Giraiya... when? I'm not saying you should put the case behind you. I respect you and what you do- - all I'm saying is that you can marry me, and still do your jo

Smiling faintly, Dunley said to the man, "You'll fall in love at 20, get married at 25, have a child at 30, rise to the position of CEO at 35, become fabulously wealthy by the time you're 40, and at 41… You'll find yourself a beautiful mistress. Hahaha." Startled, the man protested in fury, "But I'm already 45 years old this year, and I'm still a bachelor! I have no wife or mistress to speak of, nor have I become fabulously wealthy in any way." He was 45 years old? Dunley was a little taken aback. The man looked to be only in his early 30s to him.

I caught my boyfriend in bed with two women. That same night, I walked into Milan's most exclusive club and drank whiskey for the first time. The next morning, I woke up with a marriage certificate on my floor. My husband? Matteo Moretti. One of Italy's four identical billionaire brothers. When I arrived at their palazzo, four gorgeous, terrifying men stood before me. Same face. Same cold eyes. Same cruel mouths. "Drag this lying girl out," their father ordered. Then one brother stepped forward, his dark gaze burning slowly down my body. "You don't remember me, sweetheart?" His voice dropped low enough to melt bone. "Because I remember every sound you made." They called

“Because you’re running out of time.” I opened it. The words at the top blurred for a moment before they sank in. Marriage Contract. I let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “This isn’t funny.” “I’m not joking,” Adrian said. I flipped through the pages, my chest tightening with every line. One year. Public marriage. Separate private lives. Financial support. Medical expenses—fully covered. My mother’s name was already typed there. I looked up at him. “Why are you doing this?”

Trying to load up a bunch of nonsense he sent to me. I wasn't buying that, and he noticed. His features straightening out, back to the man I employed for his skills not this communication nonsense. We still had to talk about the honeymoon suite stunt. "Sir," he called, "How long have you been married for? Two years? Three?" "Four," I corrected, standing side to side with him. "Four years, and 21 weeks." "You're newlyweds." He commented, "A young, vibrant couple, who should either be in love...or not together at all."

he said, and lifted his glass of wine and drank. "What about you, Mr. Fox?" He chuckled softly. "Well, I am a forty-five year old divorced man, and I have a son who is twenty-five now," he said casually, like it was the most ordinary thing in the world. My eyes widened. Forty-five. Damn. This man didn't look anywhere close to that age. He looked like someone in his early thirties. And his son was older than me. But what shocked me more was hearing that he was divorced. A quiet, satisfied happiness filled my chest before I could stop it.

"The one my wife and I will be moving into after the wedding this evening?" James tossed a silver key ring across the room. I caught it effortlessly. "Are you even a little bit curious to see her?" James asked, shaking his head. "Your wife? Bro, you're actually getting married. D*mn. You're leaving me all alone in the single world." "It's five years," I replied coldly, sliding my silver Rolex onto my wrist. "She will be my wife just for show." Thirty minutes later, my cynicism faded into a blur of blinding camera flashes and low whispers.

As for me, I was beginning to feel like myself again. While Edgar and I discussed vacation plans for Ryan, a soldato rushed in, saying someone was causing a commotion at the gate. "I'm Jenny Bellini's husband!" I froze for a moment before stepping outside. As I expected, Leander stood there. Given his reach, I wasn't surprised he'd tracked me down so quickly. What shocked me, though, was how worn out he looked. Leander, usually so sharp and composed, looked like he'd aged years in just two days.

“None of my business? Hah. Don’t forget, you’re supposed to be marrying me. If you’re going to be my wife, you’ll do as I say.” His tone was commanding. I rolled my eyes. “Who said I was marrying you?” His expression twisted into a mocking smile. “You did. You’re the one who said you’d never marry anyone else. “And besides, there are only two unmarried men in the Fido family, me and Harvey. Harvey’s already engaged. So if not me, who?” “Who said you and Harvey are the only options?” Callum frowned. “You’re not talking about Uncle Jaxon, are you?”

"That's wonderful. I don't care how much it costs. As long as he can restore it, I'll pay anything." My friend laughed mischievously. "He doesn't need the money. Restoration work is just a hobby for him. He's gorgeous too, six foot three and a total heartthrob. Want me to introduce you? He's way better than that scumbag Grayson Thatcher." I gently declined. My friend grew anxious. "You're not seriously going to marry that bastard, are you? Everyone in our circle knows about all the awful things he's done. Don't be stupid and throw yourself into that pit of fire."