Forcibly Wedded: The Billionaire’s Convenient Wife

Anzu rose from the tangled bedclothes bleary-eyed and hungry. Dinner had been a pathetic affair. She had only a Vitamin C tablet and half a bottle of lemon-flavored water.

Was it any wonder she was so darn skinny? She hardly ever ate a proper meal. The last time she'd eaten herself sick was Christmas Eve at her mother's. She had binged on sugar cookies and rum punch.

Her stomach tickled and Anzu groaned. Cramps. Not hunger pangs. She would be achy and touchy in two, maybe three days. Why not start with the binging now?

She brushed her teeth, showered and dressed in a pale, pink blouse and a pair of faded dark jeans. When she checked in on Elian he was still sleeping without any sign of Ayaka having been in the room.

Why did she care?

Ayaka was ready and willing to sell her son to a man who'd called him a bastard. She didn't know who she was more pissed off at -- her irresponsible and spoiled sister, or the pragmatic and heartless Seto Kaiba.

In the kitchen, she whipped up some scrambled eggs and sausage. She hated having to eat eggs for breakfast, but would sooner feast on mud than call room service.

Zach had been too kind with his offer of a vacation, booking a five-star hotel and footing the bill. The least she could do was save him excess expense by buying and preparing her food. Her pride demanded it.

There was a loud, intrusive rap on the door, and Anzu flew out to the hallway. She pulled it open and was stunned to see Seto Kaiba on the other side. He was so tall, so dark and so sexy that for a few seconds all she could do was stare.

His closeness and the dizzying combination of whatever soap he used and old spice cologne rendered her spellbound.

Her brain finally caught up with her vocal cords. "What are you doing here?" she demanded.

She would have liked to slam the door in his face, watch the hinges rattle knowing he could see them too, but his thunderous expression changed her mind.

"May I come in?" he asked.

Anzu frowned. She expected him to act the brute and push past her, beat his chest like a savage barbarian. "Why?" she shot back stubbornly. "Ayaka isn't here."

Seto's lips thinned with impatience and then he did push past her, looking around him with interest.

"Where is the baby?"

Anzu shut the door, spinning around. "He's asleep in the spare bedroom," her lips curled. "Did you come for a sample of his DNA?"

Seto's lean, strong face was as hard as granite. "No," he wrenched his gaze from her, then looked about the room a second time.

Without bite she said, "I heard you're adopting Elian. Does that mean you have accepted him to be Mokuba's son?"

A muscle bunched in his jaw. "You might say that."

Anzu let her arms fall to her sides. She was confused, a little bit annoyed and a whole lot hungry. "I've just finished making breakfast. Would you like some, sausage and eggs?"

It was satisfying to know she'd shocked Seto Kaiba. She—a plain, nothing special, ordinary woman who loved her job as an advertising agent.

"No, thank you."

Anzu snuck a smile whilst walking to the kitchen. She felt, rather than saw him coming to her side. "Have you changed your mind about breakfast?" she teased.

Seto's face a picture, he said swiftly, "We need to talk. It's important and I would rather you be sitting."

"Why…?"

He hurtled her from the kitchen and to the sitting area, pushing her down onto one of the butter-soft love seats, then perched his sweet derriere on the edge of coffee table.

"What's this about?" she asked.

Seto chewed off a bitter curse, grimacing as he took in her lovely and confused face. "Tell me you watched the morning news?" he demanded.

Anzu shrugged, shaking her head.

He drew back, breathing deeply. So this was what they called being stuck between a rock and hard place. It felt like shit.

"If only you'd watched the news then I wouldn't be obligated to do this," he sighed as if she'd intentionally put him in this position.

"There was an accident this morning," he began gruffly, hating the situation he found himself. "Your sister—I'm sorry, Anzu, but your sister is dead."

The silence stretched for a beat or two, then predictably shattered into a thousand pieces.

"What kind of sick game are you playing at?" Anzu demanded through her teeth, blue eyes shooting off sparks. "That was a cruel joke!"

"A joke?" Seto laughed. "If only it was. Turn on your TV to any news channel and see for yourself, my dear."

Anzu was pale beneath her make-up as she fumbled the television remote, hands trembling violently as she pushed buttons for the local news.

It was there—splashed across the glowing screen, the wreckage of her sister's car and the inset photograph of Ayaka's beautiful face.

"No…!" she cried, the remote falling through her nerveless fingers. "Ayaka can't be dead! She just can't!"

Anzu looked as if someone took a red-hot poker and thrust it into her heart. Hell, Seto thought, that would have been less painful.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," he pulled her close and held her for endless minutes on end, reaching for the remote and switching off the TV.

"I saw her just last night," her voice was a broken whisper against his shirtfront. "How can she be dead?"

She looked up and into his eyes, those drenched sapphires spearing his dark soul. He felt as if he'd been kicked in his stomach repeatedly.

"Ayaka may not have been a saint but she, more than anyone, didn't deserve death."

Seto smiled deprecatingly. "Your sister wasn't alone. There was a someone in the passenger seat who died along with her."

"Who?" Anzu asked hoarsely.

"Declan Rogers." A wry smile curved his lips. "He was an operation director at a local mining company, and at the restaurant he seemed quite taken with your sister."

"He was her date for the night," she explained. "The lamppost they crashed into—do you think they died upon impact?"

"You mean instantly? I think so, yes."

He expected her to crumple and cry. Anything, but the blank expression which chased across her pretty features.

"This may sound ridiculously callous—" she fought back a slew of fresh tears. "—but I'm glad she didn't die alone."

When she pulled back and slowly rose to her feet, Seto found himself unwilling to release her. In the past few weeks he had thought about her more than he cared to admit. And right now, he wanted to erase that sad look in her blue, blue eyes.

"Anzu," Seto shot to his feet when she staggered. He caught her to him, felt her stiffen and tremble.

"I'm fine," she tried a smile, but a sob caught in her throat and her unruffled façade cracked.

He kept her close, knowing this kind of loss intimately, wishing she didn't have to experience this type of pain.

"I'm okay."

"Are you sure?" Seto pushed a shiny curl back from her face when she nodded.

Walking to the wet bar, he poured a generous measure of brandy into a snifter, placing it into her shaking hands.

"Drink up."

A smile crinkled the corners of her eyes. "Thank you." She took a swill and he chuckled softly when her features screwed up comically. "This is awful!"

"Hey, it was in your wet bar." She glared weakly, then thrust the glass to him. "More?" he asked.

"Please," she sipped daintily until most of the brandy was gone. A row of straight white teeth clamping over a trembling bottom lip to still it. "I can't believe she's gone."

Seto placed the snifter on the coffee table, gathering her hands in his. Anzu glanced up, her lashes heavy with crystal globes.

"Ayaka was wearing my dress," she whispered, and he wondered what this had to do with anything. "What if it was me who was meant to die and not her?"

"You're being ridiculous," Seto growled, taken aback by the roughness of his voice. "You shouldn't believe in crazy superstition."

"You're right…but I can't shake this feeling. There must have been something I could have done better. I could have stopped her from going out last night."

"She was an adult capable of making her own choices in life, Anzu. You couldn't have stopped her."

She smiled at him oddly. "This is the first time you've used my name. Somehow I imagined this moment differently."

Her lips were fragrant and moist with the brandy and it drugged his senses. "What did you imagine?"

"It's not important," she readily dismissed.

He spoke her name aloud, watched as she tilted her head. Her eyes deeps pools of blue, the silver flecks he loved, illuminated.

He kissed her forehead, her nose, then sideways to her cheek, bringing their lips together so close they almost touched in delicious contact.

"Anzu," Seto whispered thickly, crushing her trembling lips beneath his, feeling a shudder rock her body. She tasted like mint, smelled like jasmine and honeysuckle and he wanted to devour her. To devour every inch of her luscious body.

Her encouraging moan was the permission he needed, and the dark promise he'd made to himself was about to be fulfilled…