Page 19 of Forty, Flirty & F*cked

FROM: [email protected]

TO: [email protected]

SUBJECT: Your Special Night!

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Reeves,

Your love story has captured hearts! Several major networks are interested in featuring your whirlwind romance in their reality programming. The tech CEO and the PR executive? It’s ratings gold!

Please contact us ASAP to discuss rights and filming schedules.

P.S. Your Elvis cape and commemorative shot glasses are in the mail!

Perfect. Because nothing says "serious tech CEO" like Elvis memorabilia arriving at your office two months before your company goes public.

My phone lights up with another message:

ARIANA: Got your messages. Thanks for having my back.

ARIANA: But please don’t text about the marriage thing. I have nosy sisters.

ARIANA: Also, I definitely did not leave that earring on purpose. Not good for plausible deniability.

Despite everything, I feel myself smile. Then I remember I’m supposed to be focusing on the IPO, not on how my accidental wife’s text messages make my chest do weird things.

Yasmin returns with maintenance, her expression carefully neutral. "The chapel has called twice more. Should I have legal look into it?"

"Yes. No. I don’t know." I run a hand through my hair. "Just... give me a minute to think."

"Of course." She glances at my phone, which is lighting up again. "Though you might want to make it a quick minute. Your father’s on his way up."

I curse out loud, still reading from myself screen.

GRAYSON: Speaking of wedding logistics

GRAYSON: You do realize Luke and Cal are going to have a field day with this, right?

GRAYSON: Luke’s already suspicious when you stopped answering in the “DOOM GROOMSMEN” group chat over the weekend. And you know how Cal loves international scandal.

GRAYSON: You might want to start preparing your defense now

Fantastic. As if my father, the IPO, and an impending reality TV offer weren’t enough, now I had to deal with my best friend’s groomsmen—a cybersecurity prodigy with a grudge, a clean energy billionaire who probably has MI6 on speed dial, and Grayson himself, who was loving this way too much.

My phone lights up with another message:

ARIANA: P.S. Those pancakes weren’t that special.

ME: Lies. You moaned.

ARIANA: I did not!

ME: You definitely did. The whole restaurant heard.

ARIANA: That was... appreciation for proper syrup temperature.

ME: Sure it was

ARIANA: Also, that thing about the syrup temperature? Kind of hot.

---