Blackmailed Down The Aisle

Responsibility. The word snagged in his throat like a fish bone. Feeling responsible hadn’t been part of the equation when he’d come up with the idea of marrying Daisy. It made him feel tense, with its implication of commitment, that somehow there was a bond between them.

Frowning, he ran a hand wearily over his jaw, feeling the scrape of stubble against his fingertips. But was it really such a big deal? All business transactions needed a bond to function. And that was all this was. A transaction. All the rest was just tiredness making him paranoid.

Sighing, he leaned forward, picked up his jacket and gently draped it over her shoulder. She shifted in her sleep, murmuring, fingers splaying apart, and he held his breath. But she didn’t wake and finally, after one last look, he turned and walked slowly away.