Marriage by Law

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  Copyright © 2014 by NK Pockett

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  DISCLAIMER

  Please don’t be stupid and kill yourself. This book is a work of FICTION.

  It is fiction and not to be confused with reality. Neither the author nor the publisher or its associates assume any responsibility for any loss, injury, death or legal consequences resulting from acting on the contents in this book. The authors opinions are not to be construed as the opinions of the publisher. The material in this book is for entertainment purposes ONLY. Enjoy.

  Marriage by Law

  By: N.K. Pockett

  ISBN: 978-1-62761-999-8

  © N.K. Pockett 2014

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Chapter Fifty

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Epilogue

  Dedication

  To my mother, whose grey hairs I probably caused;

  to my father, who will probably have a heart attack thanks to me;

  and my brother, for putting up with the fact that I am clearly the more beautiful child.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Six Months Ago

  “What are you talking about?” I whispered as I hurried down Collins Street. It was lunchtime, and everyone on the street was either businessmen or tourists, and trying not to bump into anyone was quite a workout. The last thing you wanted to do was bump into one; I was sure the malicious glare they would give me would haunt me to my grave.

  “I swear it was him, Iv. Just check it out,” Rose said in a rushed voice grabbing my arm, trying to make me slow down, as she followed behind me. I scoffed, rolling my eyes. Where did she even hear this rumor, the rumor mill? This wasn’t high school to still believe the rumours like I once did. And James would never do something like this; we’ve been together for nearly four years and now, out of the blue, she tells me he’s been cheating on me the whole time? I highly doubt that.

  I am sure I can tell if my boyfriend has been cheating on me for four goddamn years.

  James wasn’t like that; he would never do this.

  “Rosemarie, wherever you heard this from, it’s wrong. James isn’t like this. You have the wrong person.”

  I shook my head. In a week’s time it would finally be our fourth year anniversary and he had something planned out as a surprise. No matter how many times I said it, it was true; there was no way James would cheat on me.

  I trusted him.

  “If he wanted to dump me, he would have three years ago,” I added, shrugging her hold off me as I hurried to the tram stop checking the time.

  Rose sighed, trying to reach for my arm again as I moved out of the way as people hurried off the tram. School holidays had just finished and school kids with their big bags were everywhere, with three times the amount of noise on public transport.

  I climbed onto the tram after Rose, hearing the teacher tell them about the city and smiled. I remembered when I had city experience years ago, and James was with me then as well. I moved to the corner, avoiding the wet ground from all the rain outside. Winter was coming, and it was coming fast.

  “He wouldn’t have dumped you,” said Rose quietly after a few minutes while I was scrolling down my phone.

  “What?” I asked, momentarily confused before I realised what she was talking about. Was she still going on about this stupid rumor?

  “Exactly. He wouldn’t, just like he wouldn’t cheat on me,” I said shaking my head. Will she let this topic go? Finally, she realised what she was talking about.

  “No, he wouldn’t dump you because you’re beautiful, rich, and let’s not forget your parents make it very clear that the heir to their business, your future husband, inherits everything. No one in their clear minds would give that up” she said in a matter-of-fact tone.

  I looked at her and how serious her face looked. There was doubt at the back of my mind. Rose has been my friend longer than James has been my boyfriend, why would she lie to me? And she can’t be telling the truth. James only dated me for my fame and wealth?

  He wasn’t like that. James was an orphan. He told me that when I first met him. He had no one and he definitely didn’t need money; he made that very clear to me before I dated him. Maybe Rose was just looking out for me? I know she’s wrong, but maybe I just proved to her she was wrong. The poor girl has some absurd idea stuck in her head. It’s hard to believe, I guess in a way I was acting like how she acted when I told her that her latest crush was a jerk. She didn’t want to listen to me till I showed her.

  “Fine,” I muttered as she smiled.

  There was a bond between James and I. Lately things haven’t been going great but four years together, we loved each other, right?

>   Just because we fought more often recently, or he has been acting a bit like an obnoxious jerk, doesn’t mean we just forget about all the good times that we had. Something in the back of my head was telling me to check him out.

  “Text him.”

  “Why?” I asked, biting my lip. It was lunchtime; he was probably busy working and I didn’t want to disturb him.

  “Just do it and ask him where he is.”

  I shook my head sighing but complied, taking out my phone. I knew where he was, inter-state on a business trip. I knew this because he was coming back tonight and wanted to meet me first thing tomorrow morning.

  I scrolled till I found his name and sent him a text.

  Hey, where are you?

  xxIvy

  “Done,” I said, showing her. She smiled, tapping her fingers on the pole she was holding onto- a thing she does when nervous. My phone vibrated seconds later and I smiled. He always took his time to reply to me.

  Coming back home,

  See you tomorrow.

  I smiled. I knew James would never do such a thing. Rose grabbed my phone out of my hand, her eyes narrowing as she read it and gave me my phone back.

  “Bullshit.”

  I sighed. “Rose, look, we can ask him tomorrow when he - what are you doing?” I asked as she grabbed my hand and pressed the buzzer to get off at the next stop. She tugged my hand to the door, pushing me out as the doors opened.

  “We are going to knock some sense into you,” she snapped. I looked around curiously realizing what tram she made us catch and where we got off. This was only a ten-minute walk from his house.

  “Rose,” I said, sighing, “There is no one there. He’s in Sydney right now.”

  She didn’t listen to me. She pulled me as she dragged me along the footpath. I pulled out of her grip, rubbing my wrist as I followed her. I can walk by myself.

  I looked around at the big mansion in the area. James’s house wasn’t anything like these. His was a small humble old house he can afford and he bought it. I admired how he built up his life as an orphan. He was a determined man.

  But that’s what scared me: his determination. I wiped my hands on my jeans, not realizing that I was sweating. Maybe it was just from holding the pole for too long in the tram, I told myself. Yes, not because I was nervous.

  All couples had their problems. That doesn’t mean he cheated on me, and not just once but for the whole time I knew him? No, that was impossible.

  I saw his driveway and I could feel my heart beating faster. Why? There was no way James would do this to me. He would never marry me for my money, that wasn’t him. And there was no one in the house. He was interstate for god’s sake!

  Instead of going up the driveway, Rose stepped onto the green fake grass leading to the side. Where was she going? She made a motion and I followed her carefully, trying not to ruin his front yard. She was leading me to the side, where the kitchen window was.

  “Rose, this is stupid,” I said, navigating my way through the thin gap between the house and the fence.

  “Shut up, you are too trusting and naïve.”

  “Am not,” I whispered softly but by the look she gave me, she heard me. I had never seen her so angry before, especially at me.

  “Says the girl who nearly donated a hundred dollars to the charity on the street when they claimed pigs were endangered animals.”

  I bit my lip. Okay, that was not my finest moment, and one can never know for sure. That was nearly two years ago and maybe in some isolated country, pigs were endangered.

  She walked over to the window and looked at me. “Come,” she demanded.

  I walked the last two steps and looked at her and then slowly turned to the window.

  The kitchen, it looked exactly like I remembered it, with simple appliance. James was never one for colour. I looked through the gap between the wall and the fridge where you can just make out the lounge room.

  “See, noth –" I froze. I blinked; surely I was seeing things.

  “See, I told you.”

  I felt an arm around my shoulder. I shook my head. That wasn’t James. James would not be sitting on a couch with another girl.

  “Maybe it’s a business thing?” I said. But no business partners would kiss.

  Present Time

  The door flew open and I sat up quickly trying to hold back my yawn. After I realised it was just Rose, I leaned back stretching my legs.

  “I thought you were the stupid French lady,” I said sleepily as she raised her eyebrows at me. She gave me a disapproving shake of the head as she sat down in front of me, her hands placed on her lap and her back straight. I raised my eyebrows; clearly she was getting more out of my “how to be a lady” lessons than I was. Of course, the lessons were courtesy of my mother.

  I watched Rose as she pulled out her knitting kit and smiled to myself. She was getting a hang of this life while I have no idea how I survived the past dreary six months. Not to mention I was getting real tired of the weekly tea parties.

  “Are you excited?” asked Rose, looking up at me between stitches. I wrinkled my nose in distaste at the pink cushion she was knitting, just watching her made me feel like I was transported back into the ancient days when it was very much the 21st century.

  Apparently, according to my know-it-all mother, it was meant to give me patience. Clearly that didn’t work out as Rose was doing my knitting for me. There was no way I could sit there for hours just knitting. It would drive me insane, more than I was now.

  “For what?”

  My back ached and I couldn’t remember why. It wasn’t like there was any strenuous activity in my life, apart from making conversation with some of the women at the tea parties. I looked at the clock. Can I sleep yet?

  The clicking of her knitting needles stopped and I looked at her to see she was glaring at me, glaring, and I sat up straightened feeling like my mother was about to give me a lecture.

  “What?”

  “What do you mean what?” she asked and I winced. “Your husband is coming home.”

  “Oh,” I said, blinking. “Oh yeah.”

  My ‘husband’, the man I met for less than twenty minutes on the aisle before I said ‘I do,’ when of course I really wanted to say ‘Are you freaking kidding me?’ but with some more R rated words in between. And then there was the five-minute awkward car ride where neither of us talked, partially because I was frozen staring at the heavy ring on my finger intruding my personal space. And then this so called husband disappeared for the next six months to continue his studies, training, whatever he was doing.

  Today he was coming back and I couldn’t even remember how he looked.

  Rose crossed her legs, smoothing the fabric she was wearing before she looked at me and I recognised that look. It was her ‘big sister’ time.

  “Look, I know this has been hard, and we both know you were forced to marry him but it’s done. And he can’t be that bad. This is Darius, the hot businessman. At least one bonus point is you can shag a hot guy.”

  I cringed at her words. Typical Rose. I held back a laugh imagining some of the women’s face if she ever said ‘shag’ in a tea party.

  “Are you listening to me?”

  No.

  “Have you even seen the papers lately? Trust me, girl. If I were you, I would marry him.”

  No, I have not been reading the papers. This whole thing was like a nightmare, one that I would love to wake up from any moment. Yes, feel free to jolt me awake.

  But it wasn’t a dream, even though I was still confused about the whole situation. I know I was forced but at least wouldn’t he have the common sense to say no? If he were this successful businessman, surely he would have a say in his life. There was no way the ‘old promise’ our great grandparents or whoever made was still strong on his side like mine.

  It was either marry him or say goodbye to everything I loved. The irony was that even after I married him, I said goodbye to everything I loved.

&n
bsp; If these past months were anything of what was about to come, or how I would live the rest of my life, I would have said no.

  But it was too late. The only happy moments I had were re-living the memories of the times I went to the beach with my friends, my childhood moments and just imagining going to the movies.

  Now all I went to was the backyard for some me time. It was like the happiness in my life was stolen away and I was becoming a skeleton of who I was. I ate, I slept and I sat around all day, unless I was at a party, then I would be sitting there.

  I was sure one day I was just going to fall asleep and not wake up.

  Rose was still staring at me with a worried expression on her face and I looked around at the door, expecting it to burst open with this husband of mine with a file in his hand with divorce papers in it. Surely after six months he would have realised the mistake we did. I couldn’t break it off; if I did, my parents would bury me alive and watch me suffer, or at least my mother would. But if he broke it off, it wouldn’t be my fault at all.