Marrying into the Montgomery family was supposed to be a business transaction, but my new husband, Bennett, was the king of contradictions. He was the type of man who’d rather choke on his own pride than admit he felt a single human emotion. To ensure my family’s legacy—and my own survival—I had to make sure he fulfilled his "marital duties" every single night. In the beginning, he complained to his friends: "That gold-digger? She doesn't know anything except how to spend money. She wants my heart? In her dreams." "If my parents weren't breathing down my neck, I wouldn't have even looked at her." But fast forward a few months, and the man was showering and dousing himself in expensive cologne by 8:00 PM every night, waiting obediently in bed for me to show up. That’s when I decided to slap the divorce papers on the nightstand. He broke down right there, sobbing like a tea kettle at full boil. "Maddie, please! Is it because of last night? Was I... was I not good enough? I can take classes! I can improve! Just please, don't leave me!" … I was standing outside the private dining room of a high-end steakhouse in Greenwich with my parents. Before we could even push the door open, the shouting from inside reached a fever pitch. "You want me to marry into the Beckett family? To that human mannequin whose only brain cells are dedicated to handbags and contouring?" "Not a chance! Marry her yourselves if you love the deal so much!" "If you force me into this, I’m jumping off the roof of the Montgomery Building!" I caught my parents' eyes. My mother winced, and my father’s face went pale. It wasn't exactly the warm welcome we were hoping for. Suddenly, the door was yanked open from the inside. I didn't even have time to blink before a tall, imposing figure stormed past me. The wind of his movement ruffled my hair, but he didn't even spare me a glance. Inside the room, the elder Mr. Montgomery looked mortified. He forced a smile, offering frantic apologies. My parents, desperate to save our failing empire, nodded and bowed, terrified of offending the man holding our financial lifeline. My chest tightened. If it weren't for the Beckett Group’s latest tech project imploding and our credit lines drying up, I wouldn't be reduced to selling myself to save the family name. Regardless of Bennett Montgomery’s tantrum, the marriage was a done deal. I heard rumors that he smashed a vintage whiskey set at his penthouse and threatened to move to London. On the day we were supposed to sign the papers at City Hall, he didn't even show up. He sent his assistant with his ID and a power of attorney, using a private entrance to avoid the press. A wedding? Not a chance. Armed with a marriage license and a heavy heart, I dragged my suitcases into Bennett’s sprawling estate in the hills. His father had given me the gate code. As I stepped into the foyer, I heard voices drifting down from the second-floor study. The door was ajar. "Ben, man, it’s your wedding night. You’re really just gonna sit here and play Call of Duty with us?" "Shut up," Bennett’s voice snapped. "It’s a business merger. She doesn't deserve to be called a wife. I, Bennett Montgomery, will never acknowledge her." "You can't hide forever, though. You have to go to bed eventually." "Help me brainstorm. I don't want to touch her. How do I gross her out so much she leaves on her own?" "Maybe... tell her you’ve got a 'performance' issue? You know, technical difficulties downstairs?" I didn't wait for the punchline. I pushed the door open. "Shhh—" The room went silent instantly. Half a dozen guys stared at me, their mouths hanging open. I could actually hear someone suck in a breath. Bennett froze in his Herman Miller gaming chair, looking at me like I was a ghost. "Who are you?" he blurted out. One of his friends nudged him, looking pained. "Ben... I think that's your wife." Bennett jumped as if the chair were on fire. "What? You’re Madeline Beckett?" I scanned him calmly, my expression unreadable. "I am." The tips of his ears turned a violent shade of red. His friends, sensing the impending explosion, muttered some excuses and bolted out of the room faster than a tech stock crash. Then it was just the two of us, staring each other down. I crossed my arms, taking him in from head to toe. He was undeniably attractive—broad shoulders, lean waist, and a face that looked like it was carved from cold marble. He had that brooding, old-money intellectual vibe that was infuriatingly handsome. Good. He fit the plan. Before I left, my mother had pulled me aside. "The Montgomery genes are legendary, Maddie. Generations of geniuses. If you can just get pregnant, even if you divorce him later, that child belongs to the Becketts. That’s our leverage. That’s how we rebuild. It’s a win-win." I was the only child, spoiled since birth. I knew nothing about high finance, and I’d barely scraped through college, but I was an elite-level athlete. I was a "socialite," sure, but I wasn't fragile. My mom’s plan was cold, but practical. Bennett and I had no feelings for each other. Divorce was inevitable. Since I was legally "on the clock," I might as well get what I came for—an heir for the Beckett legacy. "Which room is mine?" I asked bluntly. Bennett’s brain seemed to be lagging. "The guest suite, obviously! This is a business arrangement. No emotional foundation. Separate rooms is standard procedure." "Oh." I grabbed my suitcase and turned to leave. A flicker of confusion crossed his face, as if he expected more of a fight. "Hey! The guest suite is that way!" I ignored him and pushed open the double doors to the primary suite. Bennett chased after me, looking horrified. "Why are you in the master bedroom?" I ignored him, sliding open the massive walk-in closet. I started shoving his bespoke suits and crisp white shirts to the side, making room for my dresses. "I don't do 'marriages in name only.' The whole 'lonely widow' vibe doesn't interest me." "What?" Bennett’s eyes widened, his face flushing. "How can you be so... so shameless?" I turned to him, my voice flat. "Do you want to shower first, or should I?" "No! I am absolutely not... doing that with you! Give up on that idea right now!" He kept rambling, his voice rising in pitch. I found him too noisy, so I grabbed my silk slip and headed straight into the bathroom, locking the door. When I came out, the master bedroom was empty. He’d bolted. I dried my hair and tracked him down in the guest room. He’d just showered too, the scent of sandalwood clinging to his skin. When he saw me enter, he backed away like a startled cat. "What are you doing here? You aren't seriously trying to force this, are you? Do you have any dignity?" "I'm telling you, I’ve already had my lawyers draft a post-nup. As soon as the merger is stable, we’re done! Whoever clings to the other is a loser!" I didn't care about his agreements. That wasn't my priority. I walked right up to him, stood on my tiptoes, and silenced that moving mouth with a kiss. The world finally went quiet. Bennett’s eyes were wide as saucers. I pulled back for a second. "Close your eyes." He shivered, his eyelids fluttering shut reflexively. A second later, he realized how weak that made him and snapped them back open. Too late. I’d already shoved him back onto the bed. All those years of powerlifting and CrossFit paid off. Pinning a six-foot-two man to the mattress was surprisingly easy. "Madeline, are you insane?!" I straddled his waist, leaning down to seal his lips again. His body temperature was skyrocketing. I slid my hand under the hem of his pajama shirt, undoing the buttons. Bennett was crimson, gasping like he’d just finished a marathon. "Maddie, you aren't my type! I will never, ever like you!" My family was on the verge of eating out of trash cans; I didn't care about being his "type." Getting those Montgomery genes was the only business that mattered. "I’m not interested in you either," I whispered against his skin. "Just stay still. Think of it as a very attractive sleep paralysis demon." I glanced down at the very obvious physical reaction he was having and smirked. "Bennett, your body is much more honest than your mouth." He went silent, unable to find a comeback. I took a moment to appreciate the view. The man was built—refined collarbones, firm chest, well-defined abs. He was a prime specimen. Even if we divorced, the kid would be easy on the eyes. I gave myself a mental pep talk and kept going. A moment later, Bennett let out a low groan, looking at me with pure panic. "Wait! Are you serious?" I winced as the reality of the moment hit. Bennett wasn't having an easy time either. Sweat beaded on his forehead, his voice raw. "Maddie, stop... we haven't... we don't have a condom!" I caught my breath and looked at him with a half-smile. "A what?" "Protection! You aren't on anything!" he hissed. "It’s fine," I lied. "I took a pill." It was a prenatal vitamin, but he didn't need to know that. Bennett’s eyes darkened. "You’re a lunatic." I narrowed my eyes, leaning into the lie. "What can I say? It’s our first time. I wanted to feel you, not a layer of cold latex." And then... Wait, that was it? I looked at him in disbelief, then glanced at the clock on the bedside table. It was over already? "Bennett... did your friend mean it? Is there actually a... technical difficulty?" The man looked like he wanted to die of shame. He grabbed a pillow and buried his face in it. "It was my first time too! This doesn't count! I was nervous! Usually... I mean, I’ll be better next time! I swear!" I was already climbing out of bed, disappointed. I didn't give him a chance to explain. "Home by 9:00 PM every night," I commanded, sounding like a ruthless CEO. "In my room by 10:00 sharp." I threw on my robe and headed back to the master suite. Behind me, I heard Bennett’s impotent rage: "Madeline Beckett! What do you think I am? A stud horse? You think I’ll just come home because you told me to? Am I your dog?" "I’m not listening to you!" "Tomorrow, I’m staying out at the clubs until sunrise! I’m not coming back!" The next night. Bennett walked through the front door at exactly 9:00 PM as the clock chimed. He glanced at me, faking a struggle with his tie, his eyes darting everywhere but my face. "I forgot an important file at home. That's the only reason I’m back early." I stepped closer and sniffed the air. My brow furrowed. "Have you been drinking?" Bennett lifted his chin. "Yeah, I had a drink. So what? A man can't have a drink at a business meeting without his wife's permission? You’re overstepping, Maddie." Drinking was a disaster for sperm quality. This was basic biology. I waved him off with a look of disgust. "Tonight’s cancelled. Go sleep in the guest room." Bennett jumped as if I’d slapped him. "What? Cancelled? Why?" "Wait... when did I even agree to do this again?" "Maddie, don't get ahead of yourself! I don't even want to touch you! I'm not letting you win!" He was so stubborn it was almost impressive. I yawned, ignoring him, and turned toward my room. I didn't see the flash of genuine frustration and disappointment that crossed his face. Day three. Bennett had learned. He walked through the door at 8:50 PM. He looked at me and let out a dramatic "Tsk," looking annoyed. "I was supposed to have dinner with a client, but my car broke down on the way. Such bad luck." "If it wasn't for that piece of junk car, I’d be out drinking until dawn." I walked over slowly, circling him like a bloodhound. I sniffed. My eyebrows knit together again. Bennett’s pulse visibly jumped in his neck. "What now? I haven't touched a drop of alcohol today!" "Cigarettes," I said, pointing at his shirt. "You’ve been smoking?" "It wasn't me! I don't smoke!" he shouted, almost raising his hand to take an oath. "It was a client during the meeting! It’s just second-hand smoke!" "Doesn't matter. Second-hand smoke is still smoke." "Are you serious? Maddie, you’re being ridiculous! I’m your husband, not your prisoner!" I shook my head regretfully. "Quality control, Bennett. Second-hand smoke affects the 'vibrancy.' Not tonight." "What?" Bennett’s face turned various shades of red and white. "It’s not like I’m begging you! You’re a lady—what is going on in your head all day? It’s... it’s indecent!" That night, my best friend, Sarah, called to invite me to the gym. She was a total gym newbie and begged me to come show her the ropes. "Hey, babe," Sarah asked over the phone. "How long did you last during your first back-day workout?" "The first time is always a disaster," I said, pushing open my bedroom door. "Maybe five minutes? It was just too exhausting." I bumped right into Bennett, who was standing outside the door. On the other end of the line, Sarah was complaining: "Only five minutes? That’s so short! Even if it’s the first time, you should at least hit ten minutes to be 'average'!" Bennett’s face went blacker than a New York City blackout. I stepped around him to grab my sneakers. "Going out?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous. "Friend called," I said shortly. At the gym, Sarah had brought her boyfriend along. The two of them were in terrible shape—barely five minutes on the incline and they were gasping for air. I ended up calling a personal trainer over to use a Graston tool—a fascia scraper—on their tight muscles. Right then, my phone buzzed. It was Bennett. "What time is it? Why aren't you back? We said 9:00." I had just finished a set of pull-ups and was breathing heavily. "Tonight’s not great, Ben. Let’s raincheck." Bennett’s voice was actually shaking. "What are you doing? Why isn't it 'great'?" Just then, Sarah’s boyfriend—who was a total drama queen—let out a blood-curdling scream from the massage table nearby. "AHHH! Stop! Gently! I can't do it anymore!" "Please, man, slow down! Too fast! I can't take it!" There was a dead silence on the other end of the line, followed by the sound of Bennett’s heavy, ragged breathing. "Madeline! What the hell are you doing?" "I’m working out with a friend, why?" "You... how could you just go out with some random guy and... 'work out'?" I caught the tone in his voice. He sounded like he was about to snap his phone in half. "What’s wrong with working out? If you’re free, you’re welcome to join us." "In your dreams! Madeline, you just wait!" Click. He hung up. I stared at the phone, bewildered. What was his problem now?
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