The Ashtons - Cole, Abigail & Megan

propensity for cosmetic injections, a slight frown was probably all she could manage. “I should think I deserved at least a little consideration.”
    “You’re right.” Megan heard herself saying the same words she always said when faced with a family confrontation. She always gave in. Always tried to smooth troubled waters. At least here at home.
    Funny, but she never had any trouble taking on crabby caterers or furious florists. She could stand up for herself with her brother and sister. She’d had no trouble at all laying down the law to Simon Pearce.
    But when it came to speaking her own mind to herparents, she retreated into little-girl-Megan mode, trying and failing to please.
    “Too little too late.” Reaching up with one hand to unnecessarily smooth her still perfectly coiffed hair, Lilah stared at her for a long minute, then said, “I hope you know what you’re doing, Megan.”
    “I do,” she said, the repetition of her wedding vow echoing inside her head.
    “Do you?” Lilah shook her head and, briefly, there was a glimmer of something in her eyes. Sympathy? Understanding? Whatever it was though, it was gone in a heartbeat. “I wonder. You do realize that you’re leaving the home of one powerful man only to go to another man much like him.”
    Was Simon so much like her father? In the last few weeks, she’d worked closely with the man. Had come to know him—at least a bit. Yes, he was rich and powerful. But she hadn’t noticed any of the coldness her father carried around inside him.
    Megan had made her decision to marry Simon on instinct. And now she had to wonder if she’d jumped from the fire into the inferno.
    “I wish you luck, Megan.” With those few words, Lilah was finished. She turned and swept from the room, her head held regally high, her steps long and swift, showing her exasperation and displeasure all at once.
    “That went well.” Megan sighed, dropped onto the bed and let the silence seep into her bones. Herstomach churned and her head ached. Oh yes. This was just as she’d always imagined her wedding day. Fighting with her mother, avoiding her father and packing in solitude for a quick escape from the estate.
    “Good God, Megan,” she whispered. “What were you thinking?”
    A short, sharp laugh shot from her throat and she pulled in a deep breath in a futile attempt to quiet the thousands of butterflies surging in her stomach. And, when that didn’t work, she looked around her, trying to find comfort in familiar surroundings.
    Her room hadn’t changed much over the years. Well, except for getting rid of the shelves of dolls and replacing them with miles of books. Books she’d read and lived in. Books she’d pretended to be a part of when the reality of life as a poor little rich girl had become too much.
    The walls were a pale green—a departure from the beige her mother insisted on throughout the house. The French doors opening onto her private balcony were open, and the soft March wind blew in, lifting the white sheers into a slow dance.
    This one room in the Ashton estate was comfort. Home. Safety. She’d come here to hide as a girl when her parents’ arguments became loud enough to travel up the wide staircase from the first floor. Years later, she’d come here to cry the night her father had told her that he’d bought off her last boyfriend.
    And she’d dreamed here about having someone of her own. A husband. A family.
    Now she had the husband, but it was nothing like she’d dreamed it would be. Was her mother right? Had she blindly walked into a marriage that was going to be the mirror image of her parents’?
    And if so, how would she ever make it through the year they’d agreed on? Straightening her shoulders, Megan told herself that she didn’t have to. She could back out now. What did it matter to her if the media clamored around Simon Pearce and hassled him about his 24-hour marriage?
    Even as she considered it though, she remembered her father’s threat to marry her off to Willie. Besides, she’d made a deal. Megan had never gone back on her word. Not to anyone. And she wasn’t about to start now.
    No matter how much she wanted to.
    “Rough day?”
    Her head snapped up and her gaze locked on Simon, standing in the open doorway of her bedroom. And suddenly, however her marriage had begun, now it looked like a lifeboat dropped into a stormy sea.

Chapter Five
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    S imon’s house wasn’t as big as the estate.
    But then, whose