THE BILLION DOLLAR MERGER

"Summer, you need to call me back right now."

Jade's voicemail was the fourth one in the last ten minutes and her voice had that panicked edge that made my stomach drop. I was halfway through my morning coffee in our family's penthouse, still in my pajamas, when my phone started blowing up.

"What's going on?" I muttered, pulling up my messages. Fifty-three unreads, which is weird and my Instagram was going insane. Let's not talk about Twitter notifications that were through the roof.

Then I saw the post from some political news account with over two million followers. A photo of me from last year's charity gala photoshopped next to some guy I'd never met in my life. We were smiling at each other like we were in love or some bullshit.

The caption made my blood run cold. ‘’Breaking: McAllister-Trudeau engagement announced. Sources say the wedding is planned for next month in what's being called the political union of the decade.’

"No." The word came out strangled. "No no no no."

I scrolled frantically through my feed. Pictures of me, edited beside pictures of him, were all over the net. I found out he's Richard McAllister, son of the presidential candidate, the same man I had literally never spoken to in my entire life.

My hands were shaking so hard I nearly dropped my phone when it rang, it was Jade again.

"Tell me this is some kind of sick joke," I said instead of hello.

"I was hoping you'd tell me that." Jade sounded breathless. "Summer, what the hell is happening? Are you actually engaged?"

"I don't even know who this guy is!"

"Your dad didn't tell you?"

My dad. Of course, Sam fucking Trudeau didn't do anything without a reason and that reason was usually money or power or keeping himself out of prison. I hung up on Jade and stormed through the penthouse toward his office.

He was on the phone when I burst through the door, all expensive suit and cigar smoke, looking completely unbothered by the fact that he'd just sold me off like cattle.

"I'll call you back," he said into the phone, his cold calculative eyes on me, and I'm familiar with that look, its the same look he gave his business associates before he destroyed them.

"What did you do?" My voice was shaking with rage.

"I secured our family's future." He set down his phone with the kind of calm that made me want to scream. "You're marrying Richard McAllister next month. The announcement went out this morning."

"You can't be serious. You can't just arrange a marriage without even telling me!"

"I just did." He took a long drag of his cigar. "Michael McAllister needs funding for his campaign. We need the heat off our business operations. His son marries you, everyone wins."

"Except me!"

"You'll do what's best for this family, Summer. Like you always have." His tone left no room for argument, it's glaring that this wasn't a discussion, it's an order.

So I ran. I grabbed my phone and my keys and I ran out of that penthouse like it was on fire. I needed to see Marcus, my boyfriend of two years, the only person in my life who actually loved me for me and not for my last name or my father's money.

Marcus would know what to do, We'd figure this out together and maybe we'd just leave all this bullshit behind and run away somewhere my father couldn't control me.

The drive to his apartment in Brooklyn took thirty minutes but felt like hours. I used my key to let myself into Marcus's building, took the stairs two at a time to his third floor apartment.

I was already planning what I'd say. We could elope, leave the country. I know for certain my father couldn't force me into a marriage if I wasn't here.

I opened the door to his apartment calling his name.

"Marcus, you won't believe what my father just—"

The words died in my throat.

There were clothes on the floor, the trail leading to the bedroom where I saw a woman's jacket I recognized because I'd helped my sister pick it out last month accompanied by sounds coming from the bedroom that made my stomach turn inside out.

I should have left and walked away right then but my feet carried me forward like I was in a nightmare I couldn't wake up from.

I pushed open the bedroom door.

Marcus was fully naked in bed with someone, they were moving in an unmistakable rhythm of sex, the door slammed behind me and they both turned to look at me with wide, startled eyes, I saw exactly who it was — Autumn, my baby sister.

"Summer." Marcus didn't even have the decency to look ashamed. He just pulled the sheet up lazily, like I'd interrupted his morning coffee instead of catching him screwing my sister. "This isn't what it looks like."

"Really?" My voice came out cold. "Because it looks like you're fucking my sister."

Autumn sat up, her dark hair messy, wearing that same smug smile "Oh Summer, don't be so dramatic."

"How long?" I looked at Marcus, the man I'd thought I loved. "How long has this been going on?"

"Does it matter?" He had the audacity to look bored. "Come on, you had to know this wasn't going to last. You're a Trudeau and the only reason I stayed with you this long was for the connections."

Each word was a knife but I refused to let him see me bleed. "And you?" I turned to Autumn. "You're my sister."

"Half-sister," she corrected, examining her nails like this conversation bored her. "And honestly, you should be thanking me, now you can focus on your arranged marriage to that McAllister guy. Lucky you, moving up in the world."

The laugh that came out of me sounded unhinged even to my own ears. "You're both pathetic."

I left before I started crying or gave them the satisfaction of seeing me break. I made it to my car and three blocks away before I had to pull over because I couldn't see through the tears.

Everything I thought I knew was a lie. My boyfriend didn't love me, my sister hated me and my father saw me as a bargaining chip to make it worse, In four weeks I was supposed to marry a complete stranger to save a family that had never given a damn about me.

I needed a drink or ten.

The bar I found was dark and mostly empty, exactly what I needed. I slid onto a stool and ordered vodka, then ordered another when the first one disappeared too fast.

By the third drink, my phone had stopped buzzing and by the fifth, I noticed the guy at the other end of the bar who looked just as miserable as I felt, drinking scotch like it had personally wronged him. Something about his profile looked familiar but I was too drunk to place it.

Our eyes met across the bar.