Married Blind

Finn

“C’mon, Charlie. You can’t be serious.”

“I’m sorry, Finn, but you knew the consequences.” My agent sighed on the other end of the phone. “I don’t enjoy playing the bad guy. Honestly, I don’t.”

“Then don’t.”

Ordinarily, I would work to keep the slightest hint of desperation from my voice, but all bets were off in this situation. I needed out, ASAP. Otherwise, I’d be putting a ring on a stranger for America’s reality-TV-loving masses in just two weeks.

Finn McCarthy didn’t do reality TV.

Finn McCarthy had multiple awards under his belt, and he didn’t stoop to cheesy gimmicks.

He also didn’t talk about himself in the third person.

Jesus. I’m losing it.

“You knew the deal, Finn. I warned you the last time, and you still—” A hushed voice cut him off, and I sank deeper into my sofa while he argued with his assistant.

“Take your time, Charlie. It’s not like you’ve tied my life to a ticking bomb or anything.”

He sighed again. “How long have I looked after your best interests in this town?”

“Five years, but clearly you’ve lost your damn mind. Making me marry a gold-digging stranger and broadcasting it to millions is not looking after my best interests.”

My heart pounded and sweat beaded on my forehead. The longer I let the situation spiral, the more it made me panic. How could a TV show require you to legally marry someone? The entire industry had gone insane, right alongside my agent.

“Seriously, Charlie, what if they pair me up with a right eejit, and she tries to fight the prenup?”

Not to toot my horn, but multi-award-winning actors raked in the cash.

When they weren’t caught in the bathroom with the studio head’s twenty-year-old daughter.

Okay, so I’d fucked up royally, but did that mean they should punish me with potentially life-alternating consequences because a pretty woman offered herself to me?

Hell no.

“Next time you decide to make an ass of yourself in public, you’ll remember the next three months,” Charlie said. If his voice held so much as a grain of remorse, he hid it well. “I’m doing everything I can to make sure you have a long career, Finn. How about you get on board and help me?”

“Okay.” I blew out a breath, a small fizzle of hope springing to life inside of me. “What about one of those survivalist shows? That’s got to be better for my rep than this.”

Charlie chuckled. “I like the image, bud, but the world already knows you as the macho man.”

I’d even eat a spider if that would help me get out of tux fittings and ring shopping.

“It’s not good for a well-rounded career actor.” Charlie let those words drop like the dagger they were. “You told me you wanted to be the next Ryan Reynolds. Is that still true?”

I chewed my lip and wished I hadn’t picked Charlie for a second. I should have picked a ruthless American. Someone born in LA. Hell, keeping my British agent might have worked more to my favour. Instead, I went for a Canadian transplant.

The second passed fast, unfortunately.

“Yes,” I grumbled.

“Then trust me to do what’s good for you.”

I dragged a hand through my hair, biting back the desperate ‘no’ sitting at the tip of my tongue. I did trust him. Usually.

The thought of marrying someone for damage control put a sour taste in my mouth. Add cameras, producers, and undoubtedly awkward questions to the mix, and I would turn feral.

I’d seen the original of this show. After working extra hard to keep my personal life as personal as possible in this business, I did not want it painted all over billboards.

“I hate talking to reporters, Charlie. How am I meant to handle the producers?”

My best friends were taking bets on how fast I tanked the whole thing; honestly, they weren’t wrong. I’ll be standing at the altar, feet tapping and my eyes on the wrong door while I worked out my fifth exit strategy.

The point is, it made me feel dirty, and I was not in the business of doing things that aligned me with the lowest tier of Hollywood scum.

“Like you do everything else, Finn.” Charlie’s faith in me rang loud in his words. Given my knee’s uncontrollable bouncing or shaky hands, I didn’t deserve his misplaced faith. “It’s a role.”

Everything froze: my breath, my frazzled thoughts, my hands. “Say that again.”

“You’re an incredible actor. Just pick a persona and give them that. There’s no reason they have to see you unless you want them to.”

Pick a persona.

Just another job.

“Let’s say, hypothetically, I can do that,” I whispered, a temporary calm flowing through my body.

“There’s that confident Irish attitude I expect from you.”

I snorted. “And there’s that full of Canadian bullshit I expect from you.” Shaking my head, I collapsed back against the sofa cushions. The leather whined beneath me. “There’s really nothing I can say to talk you out of this?”

“You’d need a time machine, my friend. Suck it up and take your punishment, McCarthy,” Charlie said, a thread of steel in his tone. “Next time a pretty woman comes on to you, you might think better of fucking her in a very public bathroom.”

“What if my new wife is one of those pretty women?”

Charlie’s heavy sigh rattled the phone.

Abi

New Email.

Subject: The solution to ALL your problems.

I snorted. Solutions to my problems wouldn’t fit in an email. I needed a time-turner and a fourth job to help my sister clear her medical debt. It didn’t matter how many pretty vintage garments I flipped or how much commission I made as a travel agent; we needed a miracle.

Despite my doubts, I clicked on the email, a tiny grain of hope worming its way to the forefront.

Did I mention the solution came with a total hottie attached?

Click the link and thank me later… with all the details.

Ros x

I frowned at the glaring neon blue web link. Why did Ros think Infinity Productions could help me? A small thread of common sense shouted at me for even thinking about clicking on a strange link in an email.

Maybe someone had hijacked Roseline’s account… although she usually communicated in links and memes.

Throwing caution to the wind, I hit the link. The page loaded and my head cocked to the side, considering the brightly coloured advert before me.

TV SHOW SEEKING BRIDES FOR A BRAND-NEW MARRIAGE EXPERIMENT.

She can’t be serious.

I had my cell in hand in a blink. What the hell are they after?

“Abi! Did you get my email? Omigod, isn’t it amazing?” Roseline said, her words merging into one excited whoosh of breath.

“Uh, possibly, but Ros, I don’t know what I’m reading.” I chewed my lip, scanning the limited details again. “What is it?”

“You know that TV show, Married Blind? I used to force you to watch before I moved out.”

“Yes…”

“They’re making a celebrity edition.” She paused, expecting a gasp of awe, I imagined. We’d been best friends since college. We were predictable to each other at this point. “And they want perfectly normal people to match them with…” She waited again, and this time I smirked, sensing her frustration. “Get a little excited, Abi. They’ll pay you to marry a celeb and take part in the show for three months. It’s perfect.”

“What’s the catch?”

Roseline snorted. “No catch beyond the obvious, honey.”

“The obvious being what? Spell it out for me.”

“Well, for starters, you’d be marrying a stranger.”

“Got that part.” I brushed it aside as if she could see. “Next?”

“They’re celebs, so you’ll probably have to move for the duration of the show.”

I swallowed hard at that.

Sure, Eva had been back on her feet for nearly a year now. She’d even returned to her job, and her gorgeous red hair had grown back. She was happy, almost like before the diagnosis and chemo, but did that mean I stopped worrying?

Of course not. I’d nearly lost my sister and my best friend. The thought of leaving her now, of vanishing to the other side of the country, even to help pay off her substantial medical bills… How could I?

“Stop the internal debate,” Ros said. All the excitement drained from her voice. “You can talk to your sister, Abi. She’ll understand. Heck, I think she’ll beg you to go.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Hmm…”

“You already talked to her.”

“Maybe…”

Maybe? “Ros!”

“Alright! She sent me the link.”

I gasped. Every eye in the travel shop shot toward me, customers and colleagues alike. Roseline always had the worst timing. My boss’s brows rose in question, genuine concern flickering across her face. I shook my head at her and pushed back from my desk.

“Why wouldn’t she talk to me herself?” I hissed as I rushed to the backroom and away from curious ears. “Why are you the messenger?”

“How should I know?” Her attempt at innocence fell flat, and she sighed. “Fine! Eva thought you’d feel pressured into saying yes if she asked.”

I rolled my eyes. “That’s not true.”

“Isn’t it?”

“No.”

Ros sighed again, her exasperation exploding in my ear. “Think about it for a second, Abs. I’m telling you about a fun thing, an exciting experience. Bonus, it just comes with a nice paycheque.”

“What’s your point?” My brows furrowed.

I sank into an uncomfortable plastic chair, my mind spinning enough that I didn’t really feel the pinch of the seat. We only really used the backroom to store our coats and bags, but the bosses had set it up with chairs, a table, a fridge and a microwave. With the lack of windows, none of us ever wanted to spend too much time inside with the door shut. Far too depressing.

“Imagine how you would have taken my pitch if Eva asked.”

I would have filled out the form already.

I dragged a shaking hand through my hair.

“So, now that you’ve listened to the specifics, are you going to do it?” The excitement returned threefold.

I blew out a breath, indecision a heavy weight in my chest. “How much money are we talking about?”

“I don’t know. You’d have to fill in the form and hope you get picked to find out.”

I nodded, even though she couldn’t see me.

Right at this moment, the decision had to be about me. Could I marry a stranger? Did I want to leave my family and friends for three months?

It had been a tough couple of years, and as much as I hated to admit it, New York didn’t have the same happy hold on me anymore. Too many bad things had happened within the city, including my sister’s battle with cancer. Working three jobs also robbed any of the joy from my life.

Even if I had the hours to fall in love with the city again, constant exhaustion didn’t allow for much.

Maybe a brief break from the city and my normal life would revive me somehow. I could get in some excitement and shake off the shadows while hopefully earning enough to pay off my sister’s debt for good.

How could I say no to that kind of opportunity? The answer was simple. I couldn’t.

“I’ll do it.”

Interview I

Question: How would you define your type?

Finn: I don’t have a type.

Interviewer: Are you sure about that?

Finn: I wouldn’t have said it if it weren’t true.

Interviewer: So if I googled your red carpet company, they wouldn’t all be tall, blonde, and leggy?

Finn: Maybe. I don’t remember.

Interviewer (handing over papers): So you didn’t date these women?

Finn: Why did you print pictures? Jesus, man, that’s creepy… Yes, they’re all blonde supermodels. Don’t you understand what image control is?

Interviewer: Does that mean none of your past companions were your type?

Finn: They were gorgeous, but I dated none of them. My agent picked them all for whatever publicity stunt he had planned.

Interviewer: So, what is your type, Finn McCarthy?

Finn: Do we really have to do this? Can’t you just pick someone and speed this entire ordeal along?

Interviewer: I’m not interested in furthering your acting career, Mr McCarthy. I’m here to find your perfect match.

Finn: You don’t really mean that. C’mon, it’s all a farce. We’ll all divorce in three months.

Interviewer: I can’t say I agree. Now, how about you try to get on board with the process, so I can do my job?

Finn: Fine. If you trap me with a starry-eyed fan, I swear I’ll make your life hell. Find me a redhead with fire in her eyes and an interesting story.

Interviewer: That I can do.

Abi

D-Day had arrived, and nerves had claimed me as their bitch. Add in the unbearable heat of Los Angeles, the cameraman and producer hovering in the corner adjusting their equipment, the assistant setting up lighting, and I’d be lucky if I didn’t collapse.

Just getting married to a total stranger for TV. No pressure at all.

Eva and Ros gave me awkward thumbs-ups from the doorway. Each of them grinned at me, excitement dancing in their eyes. Side by side, they looked like night and day dressed to match, Eva with her bobbed auburn hair and Ros with her raven pixie cut, in pink, Grecian-inspired bridesmaid dresses — Ros’s claimed they’d be the next trend. The true angel and devil on my shoulder. Punk-rocker Ros had not been unimpressed when the producer handed her it.

I tried to return their excitement, revel in their support, but it fell flat. Right along with my hair.

The hairdresser had spent a good hour fighting my curls. She’d started all sunny and welcoming. All of that had morphed fairly quickly. Now, I’d catch her glaring at a fizzing chunk.

“How does an updo sound?” she asked, forcing a smile back to her lips.

Her southern accent came through stronger than it had before. My lips twitched at her frustration before I schooled myself for the inconsiderate reaction. Just because her efforts would cause this nerve-racking train to gain speed didn’t mean I should be unkind.

“I’m good with that.”

“Is that air conditioning unit for show?” she snapped at an assistant.

He skittered away, muttering promises to fix it. She shoved her fringe back with the back of her hand, grimacing at the sweat transfer.

“If you expect her hair to stay put, someone should fix the heat,” she shouted, glaring at the producer.

My lips twitched again, and she smirked at me.

“Nothing happens if you don’t light a fire under them.”

“Is that an inside tip?” I asked. A genuine smile claimed my lips for the first time since I’d set foot in the building.

When we’d arrived outside the bland white hotel, Eva, Ros, and I had looked at each other in absolute confusion. A TV show with celebrities could have sprung for a hell of a lot more.

And then the producer, Tyler, whisked us through a back door and into the most opulent hallway I’ve ever seen. Colourful art déco moulding outfitted every corner of the ceiling. Intricate pillars lined the hallway.

Then he opened the door to a team of beauticians who plucked and waxed us to the nth degree while they briefed us on the day’s events. To say it was distracting would have been an understatement.

The Élysee Atelier lace mermaid dress I’d picked out weeks ago hung in the corner, taunting my sweaty face with its beauty. I worried for all of five minutes back in New York when I tried the dress on that it would be too delicate and the train too long.

What if it came across as over the top? What if all the other brides went for neck-to-toe lace, too? Was the plunging neckline too revealing for national television?

Thankfully, Eva quickly slapped the camera-shy insecurities out of me. She’d reminded me, in no uncertain terms, that everything about this experience needed to be my choice, including my clothing, hair, and makeup. So I chose the dress I loved and quit worrying about it.

“Oh, aren’t you an angel?” the hairdresser gushed as a runner set up a fan next to me.

I blinked at her sudden change in mood, but then I spotted an eye roll and her backhanded Southern charm made sense. I needed to spend more time outside of New York.

Tyler clapped his hands when my hair finally took shape and cool air caressed my glistening skin. Then there was a camera in my face again.

“How’s everything going here?” He smiled wide, working overtime to put me at ease. Seated as I was, he towered over me, even though he only had a couple of inches on me normally. He pushed his floppy brown hair back from his face, grimacing. “I really should have gotten my hair cut before Bora Bora. We’ll both be suffering in the heat soon enough.” He flashed me an amused smile. “Mind if I grab a couple of thoughts before you head into makeup?”

He’d done everything he could to help me chill out. Unfortunately, the only thing that would put me at ease was a shot of bourbon. They understandably frowned on that kind of thing at 11 AM.

“Sure.” I tried for sunny, but the word came out as more of a croak.

“Some water?” Tyler asked. His gaze already scoured the room, searching for an assistant. “Ethan, grab Abi a bottle of water from the fridge.”

He settled down on a chair across from me, leaning forward with a notebook clutched in his hands and an eager gleam in his eyes. His lightweight black suit creased in the wrong places, but he didn’t care.

“Liam here will shadow you until the ceremony.” He nodded towards the dark-haired guy hidden behind the camera. “But you won’t need to talk to the camera, anymore. Act naturally, and talk to your family and friends. If you’re excited or nervous, don’t be afraid to experience it.”

“Sure.”

The word tripped off my tongue, but did I truly mean it? No matter how much he briefed me, or how patient they were, it still felt weird to catch the flashing red dot of the camera from the corner of my eye.

You’ll get used to it. Chill.

“Once we’re done, I’m going to slip out and check in on your groom.” His brows danced, eyes shining with mischief. “Make sure he’s looking handsome for you.”

I chuckled, and he grinned, nodding at me encouragingly. Some of the tension drained from my body for the first time since they had whisked me into the bridal suite.

“Ready for some quick questions?”

“Fire away.” I nodded, shifting in my seat and tightening the tie on my robe.

“Okay, remember what I said, answer in full sentences and count to ten before you respond.”

Satisfied, Tyler glanced at the cameraman, lifting his chin. The red light flicked on and Liam nodded.

“Okay, Abi, are you excited to meet your groom?” Tyler asked. He smiled encouragingly as I hesitated.

“I—”

“Take your time if you need to think about the answer.”

Was I excited? My hands shook, and a lump kept trying to form in my throat. But was that excitement or terror?

The same cycle of doubts had run through my head for weeks while I went through the process of joining the show. Yet, despite the repeated questions about my sanity, I hadn’t pulled out. Could I thank my drive to help my sister for that? The answer should have been an immediate yes, but…

“I’m nervous to meet my groom,” I said, focusing on Tyler rather than the camera lens. “This might be the riskiest thing I’ve ever done. I’d be a shaking wreck if I didn’t have my best friend and sister with me.” I swallowed hard as my focus shifted to their smiling faces, urging me on.

“You got this,” Eva mouthed. She leaned her head against the doorframe, moisture forming in her blue eyes — identical to mine.

I returned my attention to Tyler, and he nodded. Between the two of them, I somehow found a strength I sorely needed.

“But I am excited. Excited to meet him, excited for a couple of months of new experiences and a break from my normal.” My smile turned shy, and I resisted the urge to cover my face. “I’m hoping it’ll be a refreshing change from what I’ve gotten used to in New York.”

“Perfect.” Tyler flicked through his notebook, scanning a list of questions I could barely read. The man had terrible handwriting. “How do you feel about your sister walking you down the aisle?”

I sucked in a breath. I knew the question would come. They’d warned me plenty of times. Yet it still hit me hard in the gut. I’d naively hoped they’d wait a couple of weeks before making me talk about the painful things.

“I’m so grateful to my sister for agreeing to walk me down the aisle today.” That lump threatened to choke me again, and I paused, readying myself to say the hard words that usually turned me into a puffy-eyed mess.

I’d argued with Tyler for weeks about leaving my parents out of it, but sad stories make for great TV. In the end, I’d had to concede defeat.

“When I was a kid, I always thought, when the day came, it would be my dad…” I glanced down at my fists twisting the material of the robe. Another deep breath and I refocused on Tyler. “But our parents died in a car crash a few years ago. A drunk driver ran a red light at a busy intersection and caused a massive pile-up. Eva and I lost them both in one night, and we’re all the other has had ever since. We’d do anything for each other.” Including embarrassing ourselves on national television. “I’m not sure I could do this without her support, honestly.”

“Excellent, Abi. Okay, one more and I’ll leave you to finish getting ready.” When I nodded, he jumped straight in. “Why do you want to marry a celebrity like this?”

My eyes widened. Talk about starting with the hard questions. My pulse raced at the wildly incorrect assumptions people could make from my answer — from my participation in the show. How the hell did I answer a question like that without sounding like a gold digger?

“I don’t know who I’m marrying today, but I can’t wait to meet them.” My mind raced as I scrambled for more.

You’ve got this, sugarplum, a small voice whispered at the back of my mind.

It sounded suspiciously like my mother, the last words she said to me before she died, encouragement on my first day at a new job.

Despite the pang of sadness the reminder sent through me, it settled me too.

“It doesn’t matter to me they’re famous. I’m looking for a genuine person. Some chemistry would be nice, but above all, I hope we get along.” I glanced at Eva, desperate for some validation that I hadn’t just made a fool of myself. She waved her hand at me, urging me to keep going. “I work a lot in New York. Three jobs, just to keep the bills paid. Opportunities to meet Mr Right have dwindled. I might be naïve to hope for a real connection, but that’s what I want more than anything.”

I probably shouldn’t have admitted that part, opening myself up to rejection and all that. But I didn’t want to lie. The prospect of finding someone to truly get me filled me with tingles of delight. Gimmicky TV show or not, I wanted this to work, so I’d give it my all.

“That was brilliant, Abi.” Tyler clapped, his hazel eyes sparkling with his excitement. “I’ve got all I need for now. You relax, finish getting ready.” He stood, glancing around the room as if searching for someone. “Ethan will be here if you need anything at all. He’ll even pop the bubbly in the other room for you.”

“How did I miss a bottle of booze?” Ros muttered before vanishing from the doorway.

Tyler left quickly, while Ethan scrambled into the other room after Ros.

“I’m perfectly capable of popping champers, kid.” Her disgruntled voice carried, and I bit my lip, feeling marginally sorry for the assistant.

“You all good, Abs?” Eva asked. She crouched down in front of me, her brow creased with concern. “It’s not too late to get out of this if you change your mind. I can figure out another way to pay down the debt.”

I bit back the ‘no’ that immediately sprang to the tip of my tongue and took her hands, smiling at her instead. Staring into her almost identical face, I felt like I was reassuring myself instead of my baby sister. Her auburn hair flowed down her back, framing her pale skin and striking blue eyes.

With the amount of concern creasing the skin around her eyes, I’d expect her to be tugging at her hair by this point. Hell, I expected myself to be tugging at my hair. With both of us pinned up in some fashion and wearing at least a can of hairspray, it wouldn’t be advisable to give in to old habits. The hairdresser still lurked in the shadows, waiting for last-minute touch-ups.

“I know, but I want to do it.” I squeezed her hands. “Yes, I’m nervous, but wouldn’t you be if you were marrying someone you’d never met?”

Even if I hope it turns into more than an arranged marriage.

At the thought, my nerves morphed into a tremble of excitement.

The love of my life could be just behind those doors.

“I wouldn’t be in this position, Abs.” She frowned. “You always were the adventurous one.”

Once upon a time, maybe. Before our parents died, and I had to take over, making sure Eva made it through college.

Back then, I’d had dreams of travelling. Spending a year in Paris and Milan to continue my fashion studies. Walking in the footsteps of some of the great designers who had left their mark on the best industry in the world.

Reality made it all impossible in the end. I couldn’t exactly spend years as an underpaid, overworked fashion intern. I had Eva to support and we lived in one of the most expensive cities in North America.

Maybe the next three months should be about me, instead of us.

If I could shove the pang of guilt the thought produced into a heavy-duty box.

“Why the hell are you two not in here consuming champers with me?” Ros shouted from the other room. “We have thirty minutes before the make-up artist turns up. Do you think they’ll let us drink after that?”

Eva and I smirked at each other. “No,” we called back in unison.

“Exactly. So get your asses in here!” Ros poked her head around the door, her eyes sparkling, and the bottle dangling from her fingers. “Have you seen this expensive shit? I’m going to need to take a bath in it. It tastes that good.”

Chuckling, I took Eva’s offered hand and stood. We followed Ros back into the other room.

Abi

I thought the nerves were bad before. I’d been wrong.

Eva and I stood before two enormous doors waiting for our cue from the producer. Liam hovered nearby, his camera fixed on us, while I tried very hard not to fidget. My fingers dug into the handle of my bouquet.

“Remember what we talked about, Abs,” Eva muttered, her voice hard but coaxing. Her hands rested on my shoulders, squeezing and forcing me to stay upright. “Say the word and we bounce.”

I nodded, but kept my mouth shut. Sure, my voice had skipped off for its own jolly, but that didn’t mean I had to follow. No, I’d made a commitment, and I refused to break it.

“I’ve got this,” I whispered, repeating my mother’s encouragement. I forced my shoulders back, lifted my chin and relaxed my death grip on the bouquet.

Eva studied me for a second before nodding. She released her grip and turned towards the doors. Beyond them, strings started up and my stomach flipped.

“Then let’s get this show on the road.” Eva held out her arm, offering me a soft smile.

“Just follow your instincts now, Abi.” Tyler approached me, a calm expression plastered across his features. He gathered the veil the show had insisted on, lifting it over my head. “Go knock him dead.”

My lips felt strained, trying to hold a smile in place while butterflies ran amok in my stomach.

Tyler leaned in, whispering in my ear. “I’m confident you can handle him, by the way. Don’t hide that fire from him and you’ll ace this.”

My brows drew together at the tip. What on earth did that mean?

Before I could ask, the veil fell into place and Tyler rushed out of the way of the doors. Two seconds later, they swung open on silent hinges. The room beyond was bathed in white light. They had set the chairs up to fold around a central altar, which looked like something out of a Greek myth, ornate columns holding up a canopy of greenery. Arched doorways surrounded the entire space, all of them covered with flowing white sheets.

So many faces swivelled toward me, their expressions blurring between the light and my frantic mind. My breath froze in my lungs, but I kept moving by sheer force of will.

“Oh my god, Abi.” Eva pinched me. “He’s gorgeous,” she hissed.

My body tensed up for an entirely different reason.

He stared at me, a small smile tugging at his lips. He’d restrained his black hair at his neck, but rogue curls broke free from the tie, falling around his face and making me think of Jane Austen novels. I swallowed the amusement fast when his piercing sapphire eyes scanned down my body. His hands clenched at his sides, but otherwise, he gave nothing away.

“Yeah, he is, isn’t he?” I whispered back, forgetting that they’d attached a microphone to my dress and the producers could hear every word.

A navy suit and grey waistcoat hugged his trim build while a pink rose sat on his lapel tying him into the sea of pink flowers surrounding us. Not even the pink rose could ruin the rugged edge that emanated from him.

“I call dibs on the blond next to him.” She chuckled. “Make sure you tell Ros. She’ll be pissed.”

I grinned at her, although she couldn’t see it beneath all the lace of the veil.

Three guys stood at his side, nearly all of them wearing matching navy suits and navy waistcoats. One of them paired the look with a tartan kilt. Together, they looked like an ad for a tailor. Or a rom-com.

All of them were equally hot and all staring at me with open excitement. What was that about?

Ros stood on the opposite side of the altar, rather indiscreetly tilting her head towards the men. It seemed Eva already had a fight on her hands for dibs.

Before I knew it, Ros took my bouquet and Eva handed me off to my mystery man. His hand engulfed mine, smooth but firm, and instead of listening to the officiator, I stared into his eyes, daydreaming about the things he could do to me with those hands.

“Ms Johnson, are you okay?” The officiant asked me.

I forced the images from my mind, grateful for the veil hiding my burning cheeks and the glaze in my eyes. My focus jumped to the officiant, his bushy white brows rising in question.

“Yes, I’m fine. Sorry, carry on.”

He nodded to my soon-to-be husband. “You may unveil your bride, Mr McCarthy.”

McCarthy. Abigail McCarthy. I let my new name roll around my mind. I liked it.

He reached for me, his hands steady and his focus unwavering on me. His fingers grazed my neck as he drew the veil up and over my head. I barely suppressed the shiver just one sweep of his skin against mine generated.

At least you won’t have to worry about attraction.

His piercing eyes roamed my face as the veil settled down my back.

“I’m Finn,” he whispered.

Did he have a foreign accent?

I held in my squeal of delight. I’d always loved a good accent. Couldn’t get enough of British TV shows. Eva had banned me from watching Game of Thrones in our flat. Apparently, I ruined it for her.

“What’s your name, dotey?”

“Abi,” I said, my voice croaking.

The corner of his lips twitched. His fingers flexed against the veil, pressing against my bare shoulder.

“Hi, Abi.” My name danced off his tongue. “Are you ready to get married?”

I nodded, my ability to speak lost to the shiver of need rushing down my spine from one touch. He stepped back, glancing toward the officiant.

Besides that slip of amusement, I couldn’t read the man. No matter how hard I studied him, his expression didn’t shift. It remained locked in an expressionless mask — a pleasant one, but a mask all the same.

Clearly, they’d given me an actor.

Whether that would be a blessing or a curse remained to be seen.

“Mr McCarthy, have you prepared vows for your bride?”

“Yes,” he said.

His friend handed him a small sheet of paper. Finn cleared his throat, glanced at the sheet once, and pocketed it.

“I wasn’t expecting to get married, much less to a stranger…”

The vows passed by in a blur while I sank into my head, my lips moving on autopilot. The production had provided me with vows. Had they done the same for Finn? And if they did, did the lack of emotion in his eyes mean he didn’t agree with a word of it?

Why hadn’t I realised that a show like Married Blind meant nothing more to the celebs than an ego and image boost?

Nothing serious would ever grow between us.

That shouldn’t send a pang of regret through me. I just wanted the money and a break from my boring life. Why did it matter to me if Finn only wanted me to further his ego?

Because you’re a romantic at heart?

“Do you, Finn McCarthy, take Abigail Johnson to be your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish as long as you both shall live?”

“I do,” Finn said, his voice deepening and his gaze fixed on me.

The officiant turned to me, and I swallowed hard.

Last chance to jump ship, Abi. Decide quick.

“Do you, Abigail Johnson, take Finn McCarthy to be your lawfully wedded husband? To have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish as long as you both shall live?”

I turned, searching for Eva and Ros as if the entire room had frozen. They stood behind me, tears shimmering in their eyes. Both of them wore soppy smiles that made my heart twist painfully.

How could I turn back when they looked that happy?

Simple. I couldn’t.

“Abi?” Finn’s hand grazed my arm. His fingers closed around my wrist, turning me back to him. “Are you okay?” he whispered, his face close to mine while his body blocked me from most of the prying eyes of our audience. “If you don’t want to do this, you don’t have to. We can end it right now.”

“I’m fine,” I lied. I turned to the officiant and Finn backed away, his mask slipping for all of a second. His lips compressed into a thin line, but I had no clue what that meant. “I do.”

“The rings, please?” The officiant glanced between Finn’s friends and mine.

Ros placed a thick piece of gold in my palm.

“Finn, please place the ring on Abi’s left ring finger and repeat after me.”

Finn took my hand, the ring poised at the tip of my finger as he listened to the Officiant list off the vows, while two cameramen circled us.

“I give you this ring, in token and pledge of my constant faith and abiding love.” Finn paused, his lip twitching again.

His friends weren’t so circumspect. One covered his mouth, while another outright grinned. Okay, so the words were extreme for a reality tv show.

“With this ring, I thee wed.”

The ring slid onto my finger, and despite the absurdity of it, my heart skipped a beat. Yours would too if you had those eyes gazing into yours. If I didn’t think too hard about it, I could almost trick myself into believing that the flicker of emotion in his eyes meant more than it did.

“Abi, please place the ring on Finn’s left ring finger, and repeat after me.”

I followed his instructions, pausing when the producers demanded and repeating myself when needed. The entire exchange probably took twice as long because we kept having to stop for the cameras.

“Finn and Abigail, you have given and pledged your love and faithfulness, each to the other, and have declared the same by joining hands, by virtue of the authority vested in me by the State of California, I now pronounce you husband and wife.” The officiant turned to Finn, a smirk playing with the edges of his lips. “You may kiss your bride.”

Finn’s gaze bounced from him to me, to the camera over my shoulder and back to me. His lips tightened, but he stepped forward. His hands glided against the lace bodice of my dress, grazing my skin yet again on their way to my lower back. This time, he stood too close to miss me shiver, and his grip tightened as he lowered his head. My hands skimmed up his chest, desperate for some kind of support. He caught one hand, holding it still against his pounding heart.

Then his lips pressed against mine. My eyes fluttered shut, and I released the nerves coursing through my body. His trimmed beard grazed against my sensitive skin, focusing all of my attention on him. As if it could be anywhere else.

His fingers flexed against my back, right at the very edge of the material, bridging the gap between my ass and the dress’s open back.

His heart jumped into overdrive as he deepened the kiss. For a second, I got lost in the sensation. The cameras and the crowd faded away. I forgot that I’d only just met this guy. We were just two people, enjoying a mind-blowing kiss filled with possibilities.

And just like that, every nerve evaporated.