Unwillfully Wed to My Valentine

William Warrick is pure evil, and also my husband.

Be careful what you write on a Taco Bell napkin in high school. Committing to a marriage pact beside a Mild sauce stain normally isn’t contractually binding.

Unless, of course, your signature winds up next to the signature of a future billionaire CEO, who is 100% serious, 100% certifiably grumpy, and 100% the kind of person to make 30-day Valentine activities at his fancy office building mandatory.

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