Fractured (Not Quite a Billionaire #2) by Rosalind James Read Free Book Online

idea.”
    She sighed, but dropped the subject of my parents, to my relief. “Why does that not surprise me? The groom’s not supposed to see the dress, you know.”
    “Tell me tomorrow. I’ll have a marriage license to collect as well.”
    Which was when the trouble really started.

Hemi

    The next morning at eight-thirty, when I left to get the license, Hope wanted to go with me.
    “I’ve never applied for a marriage license before,” she said.
    “It won’t be exciting,” I said. “Standing in a queue.”
    She looked sideways at me. “It’s New Zealand. Just how much of a queue are you expecting at the…where?”
    “Katikati Library. You don’t know how many old ladies will be paying their rates or renewing their dog licenses. And I have calls to make. Things I need to get sorted for today. I need some time. I’ll be back in an hour, and we’ll go to Auckland.” I stepped closer and took her in my arms, heedless of Koro and Karen at the kitchen table, our interested audience. “Let me make your day beautiful. Let me make it right.”
    Her eyes softened. “How am I supposed to argue with that?”
    I smiled. “You’re not.” I gave her a little slap on the bum and a quick kiss on her sweet mouth and said, “That’ll be a good start to the marriage, eh.”
    Karen said, “What, telling her not to argue? Talk about totally wrong.”
    I smiled some more. “Nah. It won’t work. Pure wishful thinking.”
    Hope gave me a shove and said, “Go, then. Come back with a license to marry me.”
    Pity that nothing’s ever as easy as it seems.

    As it turned out, there was only one person in front of me. He was in his seventies, though, and arguing about his rubbish collection rates, which made up for about three dog licenses.
    Finally, though, he was leaving, still shaking his head and muttering under his breath, and it was my turn. I explained my errand, set the documents on the counter, and watched as the comfortably upholstered middle-aged Maori lady on the other side picked them up, scrutinized them one by one, began to type into her computer, and then returned to one of them and studied it again. The one I most wanted her to be done with.
    “I don’t think this is in order, love,” she said at last.
    “Of course it is,” I said. “It’s ancient history, more than twelve years old, and it’s in order.”
    She turned it around to show me.

    New Zealand
    Decree of Dissolution

    the heading read, with all the details beneath.
    Completely in order. I ought to know.
    “Here,” she said, pointing to the lower right corner. “Should be an embossed seal there, and it’s missing. Most important bit of the paper.”
    “So somebody forgot to stamp it,” I said, holding onto my temper. “It must happen. It was done all right and tight.”
    “Nobody forgets to stamp it,” she said. “You’re going to have to get a corrected copy before I can issue your license. Sorry, but I can’t. First rule of getting married, love. You can’t already be married to somebody else.”
    I wanted to explode, but I didn’t. I took a deep breath and said, “I’m back in the homeland for a couple weeks. My fiancee’s waiting at my Koro’s house with my ring on her finger, ready for me to take her to Auckland to buy her a dress. This…” I pushed the paper back toward her. “It was done and dusted a dozen years ago. It may not have a seal, but it’s real. I should know. I paid for it. So—please. I’ve got a girl waiting, and I need to marry her in front of my whanau, so she’ll believe.”
    I couldn’t believe I’d said all that, but I may as well have saved my breath, because she was shaking her head, looking genuinely sorry. “I can’t. I wish I could, but I can’t. Here.” She reached for a paper from a rack on the wall and handed it to me. “All you need to do is look it up online. It’ll be recorded. Then you bring the proof in here, and you’ll have your license.”
    “Brilliant,” I said.