I feel a sigh of gratitude well up in my throat over the hospitality as I turn over the room card in my hand. Everything leading up to this point had been so surreal—the legalities of the ordeal made my head swim but they were foremost in my mind. This entire arrangement, this agreement, it all spat in the face of everything I knew and yet; after endless meetings with lawyers and serious men in suits, I was convinced of its legitimacy.

The whole thing was to protect an inheritance and protect the young ward of the same inheritance. And given all things, it seemed to be the contrivance of the guardians of my new spouse's estates. There were many predatory individuals seeking to lay hands on the heritor of this weighty estate either through adoption, marriage, or otherwise. I play the role of a useful patsy, I know.

What's worse is that it was all done on paper—there wasn't a ceremony, but rather a hurried rush of bureaucratic process and; almost without any action on my part (save jotting down a single signature), I was suddenly being congratulated for my marriage.

I swallow my reservations as I stare at this door. To put all matters into perspective, I've been shipped to this island to spend time with my newly married spouse and yet: neither of us have actually met the other. I'm currently in a large hotel, standing at the end of a long hallway, just before the door to our 'honeymoon' suite and I couldn't be more nervous.

I reach out with trembling hand, slipping the room card into the slot within the door's handle. It gives a resounding 'beep' and I hear the sudden clunk of a lock unbar. Turning the handle, I push the door open. What I see is enough to stun me. Never mind the immense room and its opulence, the bed which dwarfs the dressers and seating and never mind the immense window which opens to an impeccable view of a pristine, empty beach and the looming volcanic mountain, what stunned me was the sight of my small ${bride/groom} within.