When Contracts Turn to Forbidden Kisses Chapter 169

Amelia

The shrill ring of a phone jolted me awake, disoriented and sore. Memories of what Ethan and I had done before sleeping flooded back. I was sprawled across his chest in a hidden rest area of his office, a place I hadn’t known existed until hours ago.

"Your phone," Ethan mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. "It's been ringing for five minutes."

I reached blindly toward the sound, my muscles protesting every movement. "Jesus," I muttered, finally grabbing my phone from the floor beside the couch.

Olivia's name flashed on the screen. I swiped to answer, trying to sound more awake than I felt. "Hello?"

"FINALLY!" Olivia's voice practically exploded from the speaker. "Where the hell have you two been? I've called like twenty times!"

I winced, holding the phone away from my ear. "We were... busy." I caught Ethan's smirk from the corner of my eye and felt my face heat up again.

"Busy doing what? Wait, don't answer that." Olivia laughed. "Noah and I have been waiting to hear from you guys."

I looked at Ethan, who was now sitting up, his hair adorably mussed and his shirt half-unbuttoned. He raised an eyebrow at me, waiting for my answer.

"We did," I said softly. "Actually, we're going to the city clerk's office this afternoon to get a marriage license."

Olivia's squeal was so loud that Ethan could hear it without the speakerphone. "Oh my God! That's amazing!"

"Well, Noah and I are coming with you!" Olivia declared, leaving no room for argument. "We'll be your witnesses. Every bride needs moral support!"

I laughed, shaking my head. "Liv, we're just getting a license, not walking down the aisle."

"Doesn't matter. This is important! Text me the address and time. We'll be there." Before I could protest further, she hung up.

I turned to Ethan with a sigh. "Looks like we're having company at the clerk's office."

He chuckled, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. "I don't mind. Olivia's enthusiasm is contagious." His expression softened as he looked at me. "Are you sure you're okay with this? Getting the license today?"

I nodded, feeling a certainty I hadn't experienced in years. "I've never been more sure of anything."

As I tried to stand, my legs wobbled embarrassingly, and I nearly tumbled back onto the couch. Ethan caught me with one strong arm, his eyes dancing with amusement and male pride.

"Having some trouble, Dr. Thompson?" he teased, steadying me against him.

"This is your fault," I muttered, trying to regain my balance. "I don't think I can walk."

In one smooth motion, Ethan scooped me up into his arms, carrying me toward a door I hadn't noticed before. "Then allow me to assist," he said, pushing open the door to reveal a surprisingly spacious bathroom.

"You have a bathroom in your office suite?" I asked, impressed despite myself.

"I sometimes work late," he explained, gently setting me down on the edge of a marble counter. "There's a shower too, if you'd like to freshen up."

I eyed the glass-enclosed shower longingly. "That sounds perfect, but I don't have any clean clothes."

"I keep spare clothes here," Ethan said, already moving toward another door. "And I think you'll find everything you need in the cabinet under the sink."

I raised an eyebrow. "Do you often have women needing to 'freshen up' in your office bathroom?"

Ethan returned with a crisp white silk shirt in hand, his expression serious. "Only my wife."

The possessive way he said "wife" sent a shiver down my spine. I reached for the shirt, but he held it just out of reach.

"Let me help you," he offered, his voice dropping lower.

"If you 'help' me, we'll never make it to the clerk's office," I warned, though I couldn't help but smile.

He laughed, conceding with a nod.

Thirty minutes later, I emerged from the bathroom feeling human again, wearing Ethan's silk shirt that hung to mid-thigh on me. Ethan had changed as well, now dressed in a fresh light blue shirt and charcoal suit that made him look devastatingly handsome.

"We should get going," he said, checking his watch. "I told Olivia we'd meet them at the clerk's office at 6:00 PM."

"That only gives us about an hour," I said, suddenly nervous. This was really happening. We were going to make our marriage official—again, apparently.

Ethan took my hand, bringing it to his lips. "Ready to become Mrs. Black? For real this time?"

My heart fluttered. "Absolutely."

---

We arrived at the city clerk's office in the early evening, just before rush hour. Olivia and Noah were already waiting outside, both dressed like they were headed to a photo shoot. Olivia wore a fitted pink dress that accentuated her curves, while Noah matched her in a light pink shirt—something I couldn’t help but find amusing.

"There they are!" Olivia exclaimed, rushing toward us with arms outstretched. She pulled me into a tight hug before examining me critically. "You're glowing. Sex in an office must agree with you."

"Liv!" I hissed, glancing around to make sure no one heard her.

She just grinned, unrepentant. "What? It's obvious what you two were doing. Your hair is still damp."

Noah approached more sedately, shaking Ethan's hand before giving me a friendly kiss on the cheek. "Congratulations," he said.

"We're just getting a marriage license," I explained, feeling slightly embarrassed by their enthusiasm. "This isn't a wedding photo shoot, you know." I gestured to their coordinated outfits.

The clerk's office was nearly empty this late in the day, with just a few other couples finishing up their paperwork. We approached the service desk, where a tired-looking woman glanced up from her computer.

"Marriage license application?" she asked, already reaching for a form.

"Yes," Ethan confirmed, his hand warm against the small of my back.

The woman nodded. "Names?"

"Ethan Black and Amelia Thompson," he replied.

The clerk typed something into her computer, then frowned, looking closer at the screen. "Um, according to our records, you two are already married."

I blinked in surprise. "What? That can't be right. We—" I stopped, unsure how to explain our complicated situation.

"We were in the process of divorcing," Ethan supplied smoothly. "It should have been finalized three years ago."

The clerk shook her head. "There's no record of any divorce proceedings or finalization. According to the system, you've been legally married for over three years, and that status has never changed."

I turned to Ethan, confused. "But we signed the divorce papers. I saw them."

The clerk asked to see our identification and any divorce documentation we had. Ethan produced his driver's license and a copy of what I recognized as our divorce agreement from his inner suit pocket.

She examined the document carefully. "This isn't an official divorce decree. It's... well, I'm not sure what it is, but it wouldn't be recognized by the courts. See this watermark?" She pointed to a faint pattern visible when she held the paper up to the light. "That's not a standard court mark. And the certification number format is incorrect."

Noah leaned in, examining the document. "Isn't that your grandfather's personal law firm?"

Ethan's expression shifted from confusion to understanding, then to something like reluctant admiration. "It is," he confirmed. "It seems my grandfather never processed our divorce."

"You mean we've been legally married this entire time?" I asked, struggling to process this information.

"It appears so," Ethan said, his lips twitching with what looked suspiciously like amusement.

Noah burst out laughing. "You mean you've been chasing your own wife this whole time? Man, George really got you good."

I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. All this time, all the drama and heartache and uncertainty—and we'd never actually been divorced? George had orchestrated this entire situation?