Accidently Married The CEO

Chapter 1 Gabriel A few months ago, I was happily engaged to my best friend, the woman I imagined I would be spending the rest of my life with. A few months ago, I was content with my life. Then I got the offer of a lifetime, and my entire world changed. Now here I am, drinking the most expensive whiskey that this bar has to offer, on the tab of the man that ended up marrying the woman I was supposed to marry. I can’t say that I am too upset about how things turned out. Gareth is now my business partner, and my dreams of collaborating with him have come true and turned out better than I had ever imagined, but it came at a price. Gwyn was the price I had to pay for my dreams, and I would do it all over again. She is happy with the man it turns out she has always loved, even though she didn’t want to admit it to herself at first. She is happy, and I didn’t walk away with nothing. It was a win, win, and I can’t find it in myself to regret it. She is still my best friend, and that will never change. That doesn’t stop me from buying the most expensive drinks I can on her husband’s tab, fucker had it coming after everything he had put her through. I have to admit, it takes one hell of a man to go through the lengths he did to make sure Gwyn ended up being married to him and no one else, and it helps that he is absolutely obsessed with her, going as far as basically surrounding himself in red as it reminds him of her. I should’ve seen the signs the moment I walked into his building on the day of our first meeting, but I was just far too excited to get the opportunity to work with the man. He could’ve gone about it an entirely different way. He could’ve come for her before I had asked her to marry me, before we had been together for years. A lot of things would’ve been different then, but then I probably wouldn’t have gotten to be his business partner, because he wouldn’t have bothered spending more than five minutes with me. Gwen was always going to be the price, at least now I also get something out of the deal. Messed up, I know, but when you are in my shoes, you have to look at all the positive aspects or you will always be stuck with anger and depression, instead of moving forward and making the best out of the situation and being stuck on what if was never something I did and I sure as hell am not going to start now. Glass shattering two chairs from my spot at the bar captures my attention and I turn to find the most beautiful woman staring at her hand confused, as if she can’t figure out why the glass is no longer in her hand, but rather shattered on the ground. Her eyes slowly look up from her hand to the people staring at her. When her eyes lock on mine, it is like everything falls into place. My heartache becomes a distant ringing, and there is a pull on my soul as if it is trying to tell me that this is where I was always meant to be, sitting here so that I would be able to meet this one person. “Shit.” She says and then quickly covers her mouth as if she never meant to let that one-word slip. Suddenly I wish that the lights could be turned on so that I could see if there was a blush crawling up her cheeks. She is breathtaking even here, in the dimly lit bar and I want more, so much more. I quickly get up and take the two long strides that takes me to get to her. I bend down and quickly start picking up the glass. The angel bends down, probably to assist me with picking up the mess, but she seems to have had more than she could handle and loses her balance. With reflexes that I didn’t know I possessed, I quickly grab her around her waist and lift her up, stopping her from falling face first on the broken bits of glass that will most likely cut her soft skin. “Careful now.” I tell her and she starts to giggle, the sound so beautiful that I am already thinking of every possible way I can make her do it again, and again. “I think it is time for some water.” I tell her, dead set on getting her sober so that I can get to know her without the chance that she might pass out on me, or worse, not remember me when morning comes. I want the opportunity to get to know her, to see if there is more to that feeling or if it is just the alcohol talking. “Nope, I am not here to get sober. I need to stay drunk.” She says and then hiccups. The poor girl is smashed and clearly has issues, but that pull on my soul is still there, telling me that I need to stay. “Yes, well.” I am not exactly sure what to say. I can’t really force her to drink water, but maybe I can convince her that it is not water. Get the bartender to give her some virgin cocktail instead. “What are you having, Sweetheart?” I ask her, trying to think of the best way to get her sober. I don’t plan on doing anything other than just talking to her, but it would be nice if she would at the very least, remember the conversation. “Cosmo all the way.” She says with a bright smile on her face, and I take a moment to really take her in. Her eyes are a hazel brown, a clear ring of light gold surrounding it. Her hair nearly matches her eyes with the light brown, but her skin is tanned, a beautiful caramel tan that looks natural and not like she spends time with self-tan lotion, not that there is anything wrong with that, but there is a difference between the two, no matter how hard you work to make it look natural. Believe me, I have tried. I would like to add that I was as pale as the milk in my fridge in my younger years, so maybe I am not the best one to judge. “You just been drinking Cosmopolitans tonight?” I ask her, wondering if she might have mixed her drinks and I should look out for the chance that she might end up vomiting. I wouldn’t mind holding her hair up for her, but I might also just end up emptying my own stomach right next to her as I truly do not have a strong stomach. “Nope, but that one tastes the best out of everything I have tried, so I am sticking to it.” Well, there is that then. I guess this is the first time she is drinking if that is the case and I truly feel bad for her. She will be waking up with one hell of a headache and most probably feel like shit for the rest of the day. The first time getting drunk is always the worst. “Do you have anyone here with you tonight?” I ask her, hoping she won’t tell me that she has a boyfriend waiting for her, or a husband. I quickly look at her ring finger and breathe a sigh of relief when I find it empty. Her eyes suddenly go wide, and her body straightens, as if she only now realizes that she lost her group. “Moira!” Her head turns to look at where the voice is calling from, but I keep my eyes on her. Is that her name? Moira. It is a beautiful name, fitting for the woman who I still have my hands on. I quickly remove them, but she stumbles forward, and I quickly grab her again, keeping her up straight. “What is taking you so long, girl?” I finally turn to look at the person who has taken Moira’s attention. She is a tall woman, nearly reaching my own six feet. Her blonde hair is falling down her back in waves and her blue eyes look bloodshot and bright, as if she too had far too many to drink. “Oh, what have you got there?” She asks, turning her attention from her friend and running it up and down my body, giving a flirtatious smile. “Nope, he is mine. You already took Timmy, you can’t have him too.” Moira says, suddenly grabbing onto my arm and holding on so tight that her nails are digging into my arm. The blonde’s smile drops, and she rolls her eyes. “Hey, that isn’t fair, and you know it.” She says, now pouting. Moira looks down at her feet and let’s go of my arm. “Yeah, I know, but this one is mine, we can find you one as well.” Moira says and I want to laugh at how she keeps talking like a child that found her favorite toy on the playground and is now refusing to give it up. I should be annoyed, I really should, but she looks so adorable while she pushes out her bottom lip in concentration. “Alright, hotness, what is your name?” The blonde asks me, seemingly over her hopes of getting more than just my name from me. Moira looks up at me expectantly, clearly also waiting for the answer, not even the slightest bit ashamed that she hadn’t bothered asking for my name, even though she is already claiming me as hers. “Gabriel.” I tell her, short and sweet. There is no need to tell her my surname and have her look me up. I would like to first find out what kind of woman I am dealing with before I tell her my entire story. “And you are?” I ask the blonde. I wrap my arm around Moir’s waist, pulling her to my side. She is tiny, but slightly taller than Gwen is. Moira leans into me, her eyes closing as if she finds comfort in my warmth, and my heart feels like it is swelling in my chest. “Britney.” She says, sticking out her hand. The name fits her, with all the blonde hair, tall legs, and body made for modeling. She is beautiful, but her beauty looks like it is worked for. She probably spends hours in the gym, only eats when it is absolutely necessary, and drinks more than she probably should. She doesn’t look fake or like a bad person, just like she cares a lot about how she looks and that seems to be the opposite of Moira, who has barely any makeup on, has curves in all the right places and clearly doesn’t drink if our earlier conversation was any indication. “Nice to meet you.” I tell her as I take her hand in mine and give it a shake. She quickly turns her attention to Moira. “I want one that looks as good as he does.”