Mary Johnson ~ The Paid Bride
I stretched lazily on the bed, much like a contented kitten, before opening my eyes. Hovering above me was a face that could have been sculpted by the gods—a handsome, well-defined face with sun-kissed golden eyes.
My first groggy thought was that Cara had finally brought home a decent, well-groomed man for a change.
But…. Why is he in my room?
I abruptly shoved him away, ending the spell. "Get off your asshole!" With a scowl on my face, I got up quickly. “Was personal space not mentioned by Clara, huh?” I spoke in an irritated tone.
“Clara?” He turned and casually picked up some papers from a nearby table, settling down with an annoying smile. “And who might that be, if I may ask?”
He doesn’t even remember her? Asshole “Well, if you must know, Clara—” I started, but my words faltered as something shiny caught my eye. What is..?
Then my memories began to flood back.
—it’s a damn golden sofa.
Shit. Brain Freeze.
~~~
Growing up as the oldest kid on a Chicago farm was no picnic for Mary Johnson.
Her folks, good ol' Mr. and Mrs. Becky Johnson, were salt-of-the-earth types, who worked hard on their small farm not far from the gritty backstreets of Chicago.
They taught Mary and her siblings the value of hard work, self-value.
But as much as Mary loved her family, she dreamed big, but those dreams took a backseat when she needed to step up and help support her family.
Then, out of the blue, fate threw her a curveball. A chance in the US came knocking, and Mary didn't hesitate.
And then she crossed paths with the Blacks – New York’s high society, dripping with wealth and power, who offered her a deal she couldn’t refuse.
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