Author's Note: Hello my lovelies. Here's another old one-shot previously posted on my old account. This was written based on one reader's request (again, I can't remember who, so sorry!) Anyway, hope you guys will enjoy this one.

As of May 2020, this story has been re-edited because my OCD was screaming at me to fix things...or more like, fix almost every sentence. I'm glad I took the time to do it though, because I think that the characters appear to be a lot more developed in this revision. Clary, for instance, is more coherent and (justifiably) more wary of Jace than she originally was. But enough of this A/N. If you're an old reader, I hope you enjoy re-reading this!

Disclaimer: Cassandra Clare owns the original TMI series and characters. Any familiar quotes that you recognise from the TMI books should, of course, be attributed to the ingenuity of Cassie. However, the plot lines and other character developments etc. in this story belongs to me, xxmadworldredemptionxx. Please do not copy, reproduce, translate, or repost these stories elsewhere without my permission.

HITCHED IN VEGAS

Present day:

I stared at him as he slept.

Now, I know what you're thinking: What a total creep. Doesn't she have any better to do than to stare at a gorgeous sleeping man?

Honestly, I guess I didn't. Especially when said man was my husband.

The question here, though, was for how long? How long would Jace continue to be my husband? What would happen when we finally broke the news to our parents of our secret marriage? And how could I possibly move on from him now that I knew what it was like to have someone like him: an attentive, loving husband who cared and loved me unconditionally, despite the fact that we hadn't even been together for all that long?

Okay, so maybe our marriage, was, in all fairness, insanely unorthodox, but the point was, it worked. Our relationship had progressed at lightning speed, with both of us never expecting how quickly or how strongly our feelings for each other would grow. There was definite attraction when we first met, but it wasn't love at first sight or anything of the sort, no.

We married, mostly, out of sheer defiance.

Living together under the same roof and trying our best to incorporate each other into our routines, it really didn't take long for either of us to open up to one another, which was surprising considering we both had some pretty deep trust issues.

You see, my whole life, I had always struggled to find my own voice because so much of it was being spoken for by my parents. From infancy to childhood, to adolescence, to adulthood, my parents had always played a domineering role in any and all life-changing decisions. Jace's life was much the same, with his parents holding the reins of his worldly future. We were, one could say, stragglers who found themselves in the same boat whilst stranded in the middle of a capricious ocean. While we were blessed to have come from wealthy families, we were also burdened by our very fortunes. As a result, we grew up often feeling weary and wary of everything and everyone. We kept our hearts locked and buried deep inside, never entrusting one to see too much of ourselves for fear of losing the only thing we had that was indubitably ours.

But with each other? Trusting became easy. We could talk about anything and everything under the sun: our families, our friends, our past relationships, our fears, our personal values and beliefs, and even our hopes and dreams for the future. We even bonded over simpler things like music, movies and even art. I was glad. I'd never thought that I could ever find someone who could listen and connect with me on such an emotional and even spiritual level. Before long, Jace became more than just my husband on a piece of paper. He became my friend—my best friend…and with whom I was falling more and more in love with each passing day…

The night I realized that my affection for Jace had evolved into actual love, my happiness had turned into despair. Having never been in love before, I found myself completely out of my depth. I'd known for certain that Jace cared about me, but the problem was: did he love me? We had been married for three months, but for all intents and purposes, we were platonic housemates, retreating to separate bedrooms night after night.

You see, shortly after our wedding, we'd both agreed that we should avoid consummating our marriage so as to make things easier for ourselves in the event that we were to part ways. But the more I'd mulled it over in my head, the more I realized what a mistake it had been.

Walking into a marriage with such misgivings, using a hypothetical divorce as a reason to stop ourselves from giving our full commitment to our marriage, was almost guaranteed to set us up for failure. If we never got around to fulfilling that aspect of our marriage, then what really was the point of marrying each other in the first place?

Hadn't we both wanted to know what it was like to be participants of a marriage we'd willingly chosen and wanted? To give ourselves a fair chance of discovering love?

Admittedly, at the time of my epiphany, the idea of having a physical relationship with Jace had sent my cheeks flaming with embarrassment. Having been raised in a conservative family, such reservations, I felt, were a given. But at the same time, I couldn't deny the desire I felt for the man I called 'husband'—a man I wanted to be my husband in every sense of the word.

I'd contemplated confessing my feelings to Jace and discussing the future of our marriage with him, but despite the ever growing trust I had in him, I was hesitant. It was the unknown of the extent of Jace's feelings for me that had held me back. If he didn't return my feelings, if he only saw me as that, a friend, I could potentially ruin our entire friendship with my confession.

I could deal with my parents' overbearingness, but I didn't think I could handle the pain and awkwardness of unrequited love. Jace and I were better off friends.

With that decision made, I'd started to pull away from Jace, using distance as a tool to try to make my feelings for him fade and disappear. It's for the best, I had thought. I can't allow myself to get too attached to him. Soon, it'll just be me again…and a new stranger to call my husband. It had been the lowest point of our marriage, and dared I admit it, the lowest point of my life.

But Jace had turned it all around when he'd confronted me, two weeks after, during dinner. He'd told me, with every ounce of conviction in his tone, that he had loved me, quite possibly, from the moment we'd met. The only reason he'd held back from confessing his feelings was because he hadn't wanted to pressure me that early on in our marriage.

I'd cried tears of awe…and love for my husband. His heartfelt confession of love, followed by a binding proof of that love, had cemented my stance on our marriage—of how much I wanted to stay in it. It had began as an act of rebellion, which later turned into camaraderie and companionship, then it became an all-rounded love. I'd finally found my soulmate, the other half of my soul…and I didn't want to let go.

But come tomorrow, I might not have a choice, and that scared me. Our deadline was fast approaching… Tomorrow, I was finally going to introduce my parents to Jace. Tomorrow, Jace was going to bring his parents over to introduce me to them. There were only two ways I could foresee this entire situation playing out. One, my parents would blow a gasket of epic proportions, then force me to end my marriage to Jace. Or two, they would be too livid at me to even consider any other option besides disowning me. I didn't know which was worse: losing Jace or losing my family. Valentine and Jocelyn Morgenstern might have their faults, but that didn't mean that I didn't love my parents—I did, so much.

"Clary?" Jace's sleepy murmur broke me out of my thoughts. He squinted at me through sleep-dazed golden eyes. "Why are you crying, sweetheart?"

I raised my hand to my cheek and cringed when I felt the palpable wetness there. I hadn't even realized that I was crying. Belatedly, I wondered if I'd accidentally woken Jace up because I'd made a noise.

"It's nothing." I choked on my own lie, which Jace could obviously see through, even as tired as he was. It amazed me how well he could read me, as if he'd known me his whole life.

"Come here," he said, patting his chest. "Lie down here, with me."

I sniffled and wiped my tear-stricken face, but obeyed. As my cheek pressed against his beating heart, I felt tears brimming again.

"I love you," Jace said, and in response, my tears fell freely.

"I love you, too," I murmured, savoring the words. Who knew if this was the last time I would ever be able to utter these words to him? "I'm scared, Jace," I confessed.

To my surprise, Jace's voice tightened as did his hold on me. "I know, Clary. I am too," he admitted. "But we'll get through this. Have faith, my love."

I sniffled again. "What if they make us go through a divorce?"

"I won't agree to it," he replied without hesitating. "They can't force me to. And they can't force you to either."

"What if we don't have a choice?"

"We always have a choice, Clary," he said firmly. "If you want something, and you believe that it's right, then you have the choice, at least, to fight for it." He stroked my hair lightly. "Now, go to sleep. Tomorrow's worries are for us to deal with tomorrow, not tonight."

I wanted to fight him on it—the last thing I wanted to do, on a night that could possibly be our last together, was to sleep—but Jace was determined. So despite my fears, I let myself succumb to exhaustion, dreams of our first encounter filling my unconscious mind.

Six months ago:

I had my gaze set on him way before he even noticed me, the boy—no, man—with the golden hair and golden eyes. At first, my gaze had been borne purely of curiosity; I had never seen anyone quite like him before, and my fingers twitched, longing for a pencil and my trusty sketchpad. It was purely artistic admiration, I'd told myself, but after my gaze returned to him for the third time, I relented that I was attracted to him as well.

However, reticence held me back from rising from my seat and approaching the man, so in an effort to block him from my mind, I forced myself to face the opposite direction instead, and nursed my bottle of Coke morosely. It would have been a pointless interaction anyway, I silently reasoned. Aside from the obvious being that the man was completely out of my league as far as looks went, I wasn't the type of woman to approach people I didn't know, least of all with the mere intention of getting to know them better. Case in point, 23 years of living on this earth and I only have one person whom I could honestly regard as a true friend: Simon Lewis. But that wasn't all that was stopping me from approaching the man who'd caught my eye. No, more to the point, I couldn't approach him because I was already engaged to be married—

Or that was what my parents had so tactlessly informed me over the phone earlier. Given the choice, I really didn't want to think about that, much less acknowledge it. Unfortunately, once the words 'engagement' and 'marriage' had latched itself onto my mind, there was really no way for me to just forget it. And it made me want to cry.

It wasn't that I was opposed to the idea of marriage itself; like most girls, I had always dreamed of getting married and starting my own family someday. Moreover, as someone who'd craved independence and freedom, I'd pictured marriage as an escape from the shadow of my dominating parents, a chance to carve my own path, and to live with a man who loved, understood and accepted me by my side. Now, all those dreams were dashed.

For goodness' sake, I didn't know who I was getting married to—I didn't know how he looked like or what his first name was. I didn't even know his family name or what they did for a living! Knowing me all too well, my parents had point-blank refused to tell me who it was, afraid that I would look him up and try to convince him to back out of the arrangement if I somehow managed to make contact with him. But honestly, could they blame me for wanting to do something like that? This was my life—my future—we're talking about!

I could accept the schools they'd enrolled me in throughout my student life; I could even accept the career path they had chosen for me since it thankfully captured my interests as well. I could accept all the other details they'd handpicked for me…as much as it frustrated me to have to concede to my parents' wishes time after time. But choosing my future husband, without even considering my feelings or input, was inconceivably hurtful. Even if they'd had my best interests at heart, I couldn't help but feel betrayed by their actions.

Which was why, not even an hour after their shocking announcement of my mysterious engagement, I'd booked the earliest flight available out of New York…and somehow ended up in Las Vegas of all places. You see, in my grief, I hadn't even checked where I was flying off to, only that I needed to get away, and fast. Confronting my parents would have been futile. For as long as I could remember, they had never wavered on a decision, which meant that like it or not, I was stuck. 'Running away', childish as it was, seemed appealing at the time.

If I was going to be married against my will, then let this be my final act of rebellion. Let me be a child, unburdened by duty. Let me be free, just this once.

Again, I had never counted on Vegas—not in a million years. As much as I'd wanted to leave my worries far behind me, I wasn't looking to engage in any typical Vegas-like activity. I might be devastated but I wasn't that devastated to say goodbye to common sense and morals. Hey, call me uptight, but that's just the kind of person that I chose—choose to be.

Hence, that long introspection was the reason why I was scrolling through my phone now, making an extra conscious effort to actually read my options before stupidly booking a flight to a place I had no desire to end up in. London, I paused, contemplating.

Just as my finger moved to tap the screen of my phone, the sound of a throat clearing had me nearly jumping out of my seat. I looked up, a little too quickly, and did a double take.

Standing before me was the ridiculously beautiful man who had, unwittingly, became the subject of my attention no more than five minutes ago. Up close, I could see that he was even more handsome than I'd thought, chiseled jaw and all. He was smirking at me, too. Typical. The pretty ones were always too damned sure of themselves.

The sound of his deep, velvety laugh made me, once again, snap out of my wandering thoughts. I caught his lips moving, shaping to form words, but I heard none of them.

What is he saying again?

"I'm sorry, could you repeat that?" I found myself asking, surprisingly in a clear voice.

The man chuckled again. "I said—" My eyes widened slightly in surprise at his elegant British accent. "You seemed so lost in thought. What were you thinking about?"

I frowned a little at the question. He was asking me to share my thoughts? What normal stranger would do that? I was half-expecting a corny pick-up line, but I stood corrected. This was no ordinary man, so it was warranted that his responses would be far from the mundane. Belatedly, I chastised myself for having that last thought. I'd only just met this man to be drawing such conclusions. And what was that I'd decided earlier? I wasn't going to approach this man because it would have been pointless.

"If I wanted to divulge my deepest secrets, I would have gone to a psychiatrist, not a bar," I told him off in a slightly snarky tone.

Instead of taking offense, the man only looked amused. "You're at a bar…but you're drinking a bottle of Coke?"

I felt my cheeks flush at his observation. "So what?" I countered, a little defensively. "Coke's fine. Coke's good. I just don't see the appeal in alcohol. Sure, the people who drink that stuff claim that it helps them to loosen up and forget all the bad things for a while… But the way I see it, the moment they get carried away, they'll only end up doing stupid things or get stuck with a killer hangover in the morning. Why would I put myself through all that?"

Plus, the bar isn't my usual go-to, either. I'm not even sure why I came here, I silently added, and with more than a little twinge of guilt. Coming to Vegas by accident was already bad enough. Coming to a bar was practically asking for trouble. God, what was I thinking?! And if word ever got back to my parents, I'd be dead meat. Oh, why couldn't I have just stayed in the hotel and ordered Coke via room service if that was all I'd wanted?

"Fair point," he nodded, looking slightly impressed by my firm answer. "I myself am a fan of lemon iced tea when it comes to beverages so I can't really judge you all too much." I wasn't sure if he was joking or not so I kept quiet. "Well, at least we've established that you're a level-headed one, eh? In any case, a woman who doesn't let others push her around easily is a woman worthy of respect in my book…"

His ironic words hit me like a freight train and I recoiled into my seat, scowling. Yup, I was definitely someone who didn't let others push her around, I thought sarcastically. If I were, I wouldn't be marrying a stranger in six months and I most definitely wouldn't be here.

"Uh-oh," the golden man frowned. "Did I say something to offend you? You look like you've tasted a really sour lemon."

"Something like that," I muttered, shaking my head in self-annoyance. "Listen," I finally said, tucking my phone into my purse and making a move to get up from the bar stool. "I've to go," I smiled at him awkwardly. "It was really nice meeting you."

As I took two steps forward, the man quickly moved to block my path.

"Wait! I don't want you to leave on my account," he said. "Look, I'm sorry if I said anything to offend you. I didn't mean to. I just…You seemed lonely and I wanted to get to know you."

Only then did I look back at him. The smirk he wore was gone and he looked downright drained, to be honest. Even then, he was still handsome.

"I don't think I'm your cup of tea. You're better off not knowing me." I tried to walk away again and he moved to block me, again. I sighed. "I'm sorry if no one's ever told you 'no' before—"

"I'm not expecting anything from you, if that's what you think," he cut in, his tone suddenly abrasive and his face unreadable. "I'm not the kind of man who picks up girls, much less forces myself onto them—"

"I wasn't trying to imply that—"

"—I just—I felt this strange connection when I saw you across the room, and I just, I wanted to get to know you," he stammered, his expression a cross between confusion and desperation. It was a perplexing sight, but even more perplexing was the swarm of butterflies churning in my stomach. He'd felt a connection when he saw me? What did that mean?

No, Clarissa. The answer you should be telling him is a firm, resounding 'NO', a stern voice that sounded suspiciously like my father's intoned.

I scoffed at him, Leave me alone, Dad. Don't you have something better to do, like say, planning my wedding? We only have six months to go till the big day anyway. Chop-chop if you want to see your darling Clary become Mrs What's-His-Name-and-Face.

Such petulance is uncalled for, Dad's voice insisted. Go on. Tell him 'no'.

Fine, I begrudgingly conceded.

My lips parted; the monosyllabic, two-letter word was literally at the tip of my tongue, waiting to roll off, when the man suddenly fixed me with a pleading look that rivaled Puss In Boots.

"Please?" His voice softened. "Pretty please with the cherry on top?"

Bloody hell, I cursed, mentally sending an apology to my dad who was, fortunately, over 2,000 miles away from Vegas and oblivious to my plight. How am I supposed to say 'no' to that?

A few minutes later, we were walking side-by-side on the pavement, the neon lights and flashing billboard signs lighting up the streets at night. I had my hands tucked deeply into my coat pockets to ward off the cold night air, my sneakers shuffling noisily against the pavement.

"Clary," he said, testing my name out on his tongue.

I blushed, then internally swore. How was it possible that he was affecting me so much, just by saying my nickname?

"I like it. It's like the herb, Clary Sage."

"And your name's Jace," I remarked stupidly. But wait! Here comes the even stupider remark: "Cool name. It kind of reminds me of…lace?"

To my deep mortification, Jace let out a deep belly laugh.

"That's a first," he said once he had calmed down enough to speak. "So am I supposed to infer that you think my name's sexy? I mean, lace is considered to be sexy in most contexts…"

Despite the rising heat in my cheeks, I glared at him. "Haven't you ever heard that modesty is an attractive trait?" I shot back.

"Only from ugly people," Jace confided. "The meek may inherit the earth, but at the moment it belongs to the conceited. Like me."

I scoffed, though I could tell by the twinkle in his eyes that he was only joking. "Well, I'm not sure I want to surround myself with the likes of you anymore," I retorted."I can only tolerate so much arrogance, and right now, you reek of it."

"Tsk tsk. One shouldn't lie, Clary," he said.

"What makes you think I'm lying?" I asked, enjoying our repartee.

Jace shrugged. "I'm a pretty good judge of people. So good, in fact, that some might say I'm telepathic." He glanced over at me, smirking in that irresistible way of his. "But, for the sake of trying to be modest, I'll just label myself as…perceptive."

"Modest, my ass," I muttered underneath my breath.

Jace chuckled. "So tell me," he said, angling his head slightly towards me. He looked curious, like a four-year-old on an insatiable hunt for answers. "Why'd you think I'd be better off not knowing you? Because I don't see anything about you to suggest that I should hightail it out of here with my head between my legs. You're a pretty cool person, as far as I can tell with my perceptive eye…" He winked at our supposed inside joke. "You're not a serial killer or a runaway leprechaun from Snow White, are you?"

I rolled my eyes. "A leprechaun from Snow White… At least get your fairytale facts straight, oh wise and perceptive one. Those midgets from Snow White are called 'dwarves', not leprechauns. And secondly, do you see me sporting an orange beard or resemble anything close to a man?"

"So defensive," he chuckled. "And to answer your question, no. You don't look like a man. Not in the very least. Though if you were, I'd be highly disturbed. I'm kind of attracted to you and it'd be a real disappointment if you revealed yourself to be a sham."

Blood rushed to my cheeks at his admission, even if I knew there was a fair chance that he was only teasing me.

"Oh I'm not lying. I am attracted to you," he said as if reading my thoughts.

For a brief moment, I allowed myself to smile. I might not be the type of girl to clamor for attention, but that didn't mean that it didn't feel nice to be noticed every once in a while.

However, reality caught up with me just as quickly and I found myself turning into a cold, Ice Queen. "Don't you have a girlfriend you'd rather be spending time with?" I snapped.

Jace looked a bit startled and affronted by my sudden frosty disposition but relented with a calm response. "No, actually. I've had dates that were usually set up by my parents for formal social events, but that's about it. I have a girl-friend," he said, putting heavy emphasis on the word 'friend', "Isabelle. But she's more like a sister to me than anything else."

"I find that hard to believe," I said, even as remorse crept into my tone.

"Well, believe it," Jace said, almost tiredly. "I've heard it all before. People take one look at me and automatically assume that I'm some type of mindless playboy," he spat out the word distastefully. "But I'm not. I'm more than what I look like on the outside."

Feeling suitably chastened and ashamed of myself, I met Jace's gaze with a sorrowful look of my own. "I'm sorry," I said quietly. "I have no right to be so curt to you, much less misjudge you. You've only been kind to me so far and I appreciate that."

Jace's eyes softened considerably at my apology, though I could still see lingering hurt from my harsh words earlier. "It's okay," he graciously said.

"No. No, it's not," I cut him off, waving my hand around distractedly. "I've been a mess since the parents…well…let's just say, they caught me off-guard when they called me up to make a huge announcement about my future. I hopped the first flight out of New York, hoping to escape from all the madness…only to end up in a city known for its wild madness! I mean, who in their right minds would run away to Vegas? Clearly, I've lost it."

"Ah, so I was partly right," Jace said, smiling softly at me. "You are a runaway."

I giggled despite myself, but quickly sobered again when I realized that there wasn't anything funny about the reason I'd run away from home. I was getting mar—

Nope, stop. Not going to think about it anymore.

"Will you tell me why you ran away?" Jace's voice shook me out of my silent conundrum. "Surely it can't be that bad."

I sighed to myself at his words. Clearly, no matter how resolved I was to forget my problem, it wasn't going to disappear anytime soon. Maybe it was time to actually talk about it with someone instead of shoving it down, willing it to never come to pass.

"I'm getting married," the words left me in a rush. "Six months from today, to be exact."

Jace halted in his tracks and stared at me, his face paling.

Weird, that. I hadn't expected to see such a strong reaction from him. I wondered why. Words he'd spoken earlier came to mind: "I felt this strange connection when I saw you across the room…" Had he actually meant that? Did he feel something for me?

"You're…getting…married?" He finally stammered.

I sighed. "Told you it was a bad idea to get to know me."

"God works in mysterious ways," Jace suddenly muttered, his voice so quiet I had a feeling that he hadn't meant for me to hear it.

"Excuse me?" I asked, my curiosity piqued.

He turned to look at me, then shrugged casually. Too casually. "I'm getting married, too," he admitted. Within seconds, his casual facade dropped and his expression turned sour. "And before you ask, I don't know who I'm marrying. My parents won't even tell me where she's from—which leaves me to my imagination."

I commiserated with him. Maybe that was why he felt a connection to me. Maybe his claims about being telepathic wasn't so unfounded, after all. I mean, what were the odds that two people with identical fates bumped into each other on a relatively normal night in Vegas?

Ignoring my passing thought about fate, I asked, "And you imagine your betrothed to be?"

"A snotty, prissy, rich brat who has never lifted a finger in her life," he said with a scowl. "She probably throws parties all the time and does nothing but waste away her parents' money."

"That sounds kind of harsh, don't you think?" I asked, somehow feeling the need to defend the mystery girl—Jace's wife-to-be—whoever she was. "You don't know her. You could be wrong. Maybe she's a nice girl."

"Fat chance," Jace huffed. "I've met practically everyone from my parents' social circles and been introduced to all their eligible daughters. They're all the same. Isabelle's the only person whose company I can stand and I know she's not the one I'm marrying."

"Maybe you've just had rotten luck so far. It doesn't mean that your future will be too. This girl is probably someone you've never even met before."

Jace sighed. "Clary, why are you trying so hard to convince me of otherwise? I doubt you feel the same way about your betrothed."

I didn't want to admit it, but his words affected me. Instead of speaking about my betrothed, however, I decided to change the subject. "Where are you from?" I asked as I gestured Jace towards a diner. I could have kept on walking since my hotel was nearby enough to reach on foot, but I was freezing—and craving a cup of coffee.

As Jace followed me into the diner, he gave me a funny look as if telling me that he knew what I was doing. Still, he answered, "London."

London, my heart raced. Wasn't I just thinking about London earlier?

"I'm here on business," Jace explained as we occupied a vacant booth by the window. "I've been here for about three days now."

I nodded. "When are you flying back?"

"Tomorrow night."

"Ah," I said lamely, though my heart was racing. If I told him that I had plans to leave Vegas tomorrow to head off to London, would he think that I was some kind of a stalker? I mean, those plans had sort of existed in my head even before Jace had introduced himself to me. It was, again, coincidence. Hmm…

"What about you, Clary?" Jace leaned toward me from across the table, his body slouching slightly. "When do you plan on going home?"

"Let's see. My wedding's not supposed to take place in another six months, so maybe I'll go home then," I replied with as much nonchalance as possible, earning a curious look from Jace. "I'm not planning on staying in Vegas though. I'm honestly here by accident."

"Really?" Jace's mouth quirked in amusement at my admission.

"Hmm," I affirmed with a roll of my eyes. "Lesson learned: never book a flight when you're blinded by rage. Anyway, I only have a few more months of freedom left. I figure, now's a good time as any to get off my parents' grid, explore, do something for me for once."

Jace was silent for a long time as he digested my words. I watched him the entire time, curious as to why he was thinking so hard on my words. It wasn't as if I'd made a deep philosophical statement. On the contrary, when I thought back on what I'd said, I was certain that I had sounded pretty naive…and maybe just a tad bit selfish. But you probably wouldn't have been able to tell from Jace's expression. No, he looked as if I'd told him something so irrevocably profound and life-changing. It was beginning to make me feel uneasy, to be honest.

Suddenly, his face lit up with an emotion I couldn't quite place. "Do something for yourself?" He finally said, with a slight bit of caution in his tone. Hm.

I frowned a little. "Well…yeah. As much as I've tried to make peace with every major decision that's been made for me, I can't deny that I still resent quite a few of them. Don't get me wrong. I love my parents. I wouldn't have made it this far if it weren't for them. But I'm tired of never having my own say. I'm tired of having to do what they want me to do. It's my life too."

Jace leaned forward even further, surprising me with the sudden movement. "Then while you're on that train of thought," he interjected, his expression flickering between nervous and hopeful, "how about taking a leap with me?" He asked, putting extra emphasis on those last two words.

As I stared at Jace, I felt my confusion grow at the sight of the sheer intensity in his golden eyes. One moment he was 'normal', the next he was mysteriously contemplative, and now he was being scarily intense. Okay…? Seriously, what is going on here?

"W-what?" My muddled brain could barely choke out that one word. "What do you mean by that?" Leap, he'd used the word 'leap'. Maybe he meant a literal leap? "Are we talking about bungee jumping or sky-diving?" Yeah, that's probably it. Guys tend to be passionate about those kind of daring feats—not me, though. Definitely not me. "I'm not a fan of heights…"

Jace rumbled with laughter, causing me to jolt at the sound. Jumpy, why was I being so jumpy? Could it be because he'd just used the word 'leap'? That doesn't make any sense. Pull yourself together, Clary, I told myself as I shook my head in self-exasperation.

"Clary, why are you shaking your head at me? You haven't even heard my proposition yet," Jace said with an arched eyebrow.

"What proposition?" My voice sounded shaky even to my own ears. I wasn't sure why, but all of a sudden, I felt completely wary of Jace.

He bit his lip, almost as if he were too bashful to speak. "Proposal, actually," he muttered.

My eyes widened. WHAT? Is he joking? Is he suggesting what I think he is?

"Will you marry me, Clary?"

Holy crap! He is!

After several long seconds of staring at Jace in disbelief, I finally rushed to my feet, screeching, "Are you out of your goddamned mind?"

Jace stood up too, blocking my path as he'd done back in the bar, both hands raised in front of him. "Just hear me out," he said as if he were trying to talk down a wild animal.

I huffed as I shook my head at him incredulously. In truth, I was shocked—and utterly terrified of admitting how happy I was to hear his proposal. Me, socially inept Clarissa Morgenstern, marry Jace What's-His-Last-Name?!

I paused at that. What is his last name? He never told me.

And with that realization, reality, once again, came crashing down upon me. I'd only met Jace, not even an hour ago. I certainly knew more about him than I did about my fiancé, but I didn't actually know who he was. On the surface, he seemed like a nice man, with a marriageable personality, whatever that was, but did that mean that I should want to marry him?

Before I could stop myself, my mind wandered to that hypothetical future. I could definitely see the appeal if our marriage did work out, but it was all 50-50, wasn't it? We could fall in love, or we could also end up hating each other's guts. And besides, before I got far too carried away, I had my parents to worry about. If I married Jace, what was I going to do about them? I couldn't very well just pick up the phone, call home and say, "Hey, Mom…Dad. You know that bomb you dropped on me earlier about me having to marry this guy? Yeah, that can't work. I've recently updated my relationship status to 'married' after a night in Vegas. So could you kindly call the other guy and tell him I won't be meeting him…wherever it is you've planned for me to marry him? Thanks, love you, bye." I would be dead within the hour.

Exactly! My conscience agreed. So why are you even considering it, Clary?!

"Clary, sit down."

Jace's voice roused me from my thoughts. "No, I don't think I will," I told him, panic rising in my voice. "I've listened to you enough. You've been playing me for a fool all along, haven't you? Y-you made me tell you my story and then you pretended to be going through the same thing. It's all just an elaborate ploy to make me feel something for you…isn't it?"

"Clary—"

"Let me ask you something: where do you get off asking me to marry you when we've only just met?! The world doesn't work like that! Okay, maybe it does, in Vegas, but I'm not so reckless, or stupid for that matter, to marry a complete stranger!" The more I ranted, the angrier I became. "You're not even British, are you? You're just some weird SOCIOPATH who goes around preying on vulnerable and unsuspecting women!" I accused, lobbing a finger at his chest.

Jace looked offended at that. "I am not! And I didn't lie about anything, I swear!"

"7.8 billion people in the world, and somehow, I manage to meet someone who's going through the exact same thing I'm going through? Coincidence is meeting someone who has the same Ugg boots as you, or sharing your love for Star Wars, or finding out that you both have an older brother. It's not: 'Oh, you're getting married against your will? Guess what? So am I!'"

Jace looked deflated, even as he spoke, "Maybe that's because it isn't coincidence… It's fate."

"Don't," I gritted out, a mix of anger, shame and devastation coming over me. "I should have realized it sooner. I knew you were too good to be true," I said in a dangerously low tone. Though I mostly looked angry on the outside, I was really, actually, trying my hardest not to cry in front of this man. He was a stranger. And I was thoroughly humiliated by the fact that I'd exposed my vulnerabilities to him not even an hour after meeting him.

"Clary…"

"Stop it, Jace!" I said, edging around him to get closer to the door. "If that's even your name," I sneered, earning a wounded look from the man. "Girls may have fallen at your feet before with your wit and your charm, but I am not going to be one of them. We've had a fun chat, but I think it's time for me to leave. Good night and good luck with your life."

Without another glance back, I stole out the door, already wishing that this day had never happened. I never got that phone call from my parents. I never made that reckless decision to run away to Vegas. I never stepped into the bar. And I never met Jace.

"Clary, wait!"

Damn it, Jace. I said I never met you!

I hastened my steps, willing myself to outpace him. He did the same. The hairs on the back of my neck rose and I instantaneously broke into a run. To my bafflement, Jace did the same thing.

This was ridiculous. Why was he chasing me? Why was I running away from him?

Because I didn't have the benefit of long Morgenstern legs, Jace easily overtook me in a couple of graceful strides. I stomped my foot in despair when he blocked my path—again. I tried moving in one direction and then another, but he mirrored each and every one of my movements with precise clarity. I couldn't escape him. Why won't he leave me alone?

"Go away, Jace!" I shoved at his chest. He didn't even stumble.

Thinking on my feet, idea struck. Raising my Dr Marten-clad foot, I brought it down against Jace's left foot. He bit out a curse at my sudden attack, and I dashed around him, trying to make my escape. I might not have the best stamina given how much I hated running, but I could certainly rely on my survival instincts to make sure that I reached my hotel safely, right? After that, Jace could be the hotel security's problem. I just have to hold out in my hotel room until morning came, and then I was hopping on a plane straight to elsewhere! So long Vegas!

Alas, despite my encouraging pep-talk, my survival instincts didn't count on Jace being faster, even with a foot injury. Not even five steps forward, I found my wrist encased in Jace's strong grip. I let out a sharp gasp, not because my plan had been foiled by Jace's persistence, but because the moment his skin touched mine, I felt a surge of electricity flow through me.

Okay, maybe that sounded a little too dramatic, but take me for my word: I had never had that kind of strong reaction to someone touching me before.

I turned around, intending to bite Jace's head off, but I was…shaken. As I lifted my gaze to meet his, I saw that he was, strangely, just as shaken too—and standing much too close. My breathing increased, not because of the effort I'd exerted when I was running from Jace, but because of Jace…and our close proximity. Back in the diner, he had looked really intense, but it was nothing compared to how he looked now. Either he was a really good actor and a talented sociopath, or he was being completely, utterly earnest, and more importantly, honest. Despite my fervent doubts about him earlier, I was starting to lean towards the latter.

I found myself rising on my tiptoes, and my face moving closer and closer to his—

"I'm not going to kiss you, Clary," Jace's words broke me out of my daze.

I planted both feet on the pavement once more and wrenched my wrist out of his grip.

"I wasn't going to kiss you either!" I argued, though my cheeks were flaming at the blatant lie. Goodness, what was I thinking? I have never been so straightforward with anyone before! I took two steps back. Physical intimacy, including kissing, is reserved for marriage, I chanted silently in my head. A respectful woman holds her honor and virtue above her other needs.

"My parents taught me the same thing," Jace said as he flashed me an amused smirk. "Though they tend to generalize it to make it applicable for both men and women."

I looked at him, confused, until comprehension dawned on me. Crap, I'd said all those things out loud. My cheeks burned even hotter with mortification.

"No need to feel embarrassed, Clary. I like that you're an upright person. It's a rare quality to find these days. It's one of the reasons why I asked you to marry me."

My heart—and my head—were pounding in rhythm now. "And I said no," I told Jace as I took another step backward.

"Actually, you never said no, per se. You started accusing me," he said, eyes flashing briefly with hurt. I looked away from him, crossing my arms over my chest defensively. "I hope you know, I'm not letting you go until I've set some facts straight."

I sighed wearily. "Jace…"

"Clary, you've more than said your piece. I'd like you to hear mine."

"You're an incredibly persistent man, you know that?"

"I've been told," Jace answered without missing a beat. "Now, will you listen?"

I sighed again. "Fine."

Jace didn't dawdle. He went right to it. "First of all, I am British."

Not expecting that to be the first thing he'd address, I looked at him in surprise. "Okay?"

"Secondly, I am engaged to be married to a woman I don't know. Do I accept it? Begrudgingly. Do I like it? No, actually, I hate it!" He huffed vehemently. "Which leads me to point number three: I asked you to marry me because by some mysterious stroke of fate, I met you—a woman I could relate to in every possible way. Did I find it hard to wrap my head around this at first? Yes, of course I did. But mostly, I was in awe. You said it so perfectly, Clary, except I could do without your skepticism; 7.8 billion people in the world, and somehow, I manage to meet someone who's going through the exact same thing I'm going through?"

"Let me get this straight, Jace," I finally interjected. "The reason you asked me to marry you…is because you think we were brought together by fate?"

"You're still convinced it's a coincidence?"

"Let's put aside the metaphysics for five minutes," I told him sternly. "You're not doing a good job of convincing me of why you thought it's a good idea for us to get married in the first place." I looked him up and down, then wrinkled my nose. "You seem put together, but are you drunk? We did meet in a bar, after all."

"I don't drink alcohol," he told me in a deadpan voice. "I was in that bar because my client insisted on meeting me there. I can ring him up right now; he can attest that I drank lemon iced tea and nothing else."

"Okay, fine. I'll take your word for it," I nodded. "Explain, but no more talk of fate."

Jace cycled through a few rounds of breathing as if to collect himself. "When you mentioned doing something for yourself for once, it got me thinking, somewhat rebelliously, how much I wanted to do that, too," he finally said. I opened my mouth to interrupt, but Jace held his hand up to silence me. "Clary, I didn't see the idea of marrying you as a way to spite my parents—okay, maybe I did, to some extent," he amended at my skeptical look, "But I also saw it as a potential salvation. If we both marry each other, on our own terms, and we fall in love, then we won't have to go through with our arranged marriages. We can be together, and happy."

"Happily delusional, you mean?" I remarked. "I don't know about you, Jace, but there is a limit to what I'm willing to do to earn my freedom and happiness. My parents—they may drive me crazy—but I am not willing to turn my back on them and dishonor them like that."

"How is it dishonorable? I'm asking you to marry me, not have a premarital affair!"

"But getting married without their knowledge, without their blessings—"

"So you're just going to let them hold that over you for the rest of your life? You'll let that stop you from getting your own chance at happiness?"

I flinched. "That's not fair. And you barely know me to be putting me on the spot like that."

Jace sighed as he ran a hand through his hair, tousling it. "I know, and I'm sorry. I didn't mean to overstep," he conceded. "You owe me no loyalty, Clary. I get that. I just…I had to try."

"I…I still don't understand," I admitted.

"When I saw you, I felt a pull to you, Clary," Jace said. "I'd never felt that way about a person before, honest. And when I thought about marrying you, it somehow felt right."

Bit by bit, I could feel pieces of my resolve crumbling. But I tried to resist it anyway. "I'm sorry…but I can't marry you, Jace." His face fell. "I like you," I hastily added, "contrary to my premature accusations about you—I'm really sorry about that, too. But it's just… The thought of hurting my parents with my actions in any way…I can't do that. They may cause me heartache, but it isn't my place to retaliate and cause them pain."

"I understand."

The lack of spirit in his answer somehow threw me off. "Do you?" I challenged.

"Yes, Clary. I do. We both have a duty to our families. That speaks for itself," he replied. "Besides, we're not sure if it'll actually work out between us after all, eh? And if word gets out… No one's going to care that we were legitimately married if we end up divorcing each other anyway. They'll just see it as a scandal."

I never even got to thinking about it that far, but Jace had a point. "Right," I agreed quietly.

"Right," Jace echoed hollowly.

"Well," he said after a while, "I guess this is goodbye then. I hope that when you finally do meet your future husband, that he'll be a good man who treats you right. I hope you'll find happiness in your marriage, Clary." He gave me a meaningful look, then he turned to leave.

I watched Jace as he walked down the street, the back of his figure, his golden-blond hair, illuminated by the many streetlights and flashing neon signs. The further he walked away from me, the more I felt my heart ache. Despite everything I had said earlier, my noble attempts of putting my duties as a daughter above my own wants, I started to reconsider my stand. I started to wonder…if it was a mistake to have dismissed Jace entirely. He had seemed so earnest about his intentions to marry me…a little selfish, perhaps, but I couldn't refute his argument that marriage should be a choice we make, not one we submit to under duress. Our parents might have our best intentions at heart, but that's just it, isn't it? They didn't know our hearts—what we feel on the inside. And did I really want to live with the consequences of a forced marriage?

My heart pounded with indecision: Jace or my mystery fiancé? A man I barely knew, or a man I had zero knowledge of? A marriage I chose or a marriage that was decided for me? And…duty to my parents or duty to my heart?

This is my life. If I choose to marry Jace, it doesn't have to mean that I'm turning my back on my parents. They would be angry and disappointed that I did this without their approval…but if they truly love me, their daughter, then they would accept my decision…wouldn't they?

My decision was made.

"JACE!" I was running after him now. Thankfully, he hadn't gotten very far; it was as if he were nursing a broken heart from how slowly he walked. Or maybe he thought that I would change my mind. If that were the case, then he was an absolute idiot who deserved a slap on the head—but that could wait. "Jace, wait up!"

He turned around and smiled at me; he looked sheepish, but genuinely hopeful to see me. "Back again so soon?"

"I thought about what you said. I've changed my mind," I told him breathlessly. "Jace," I inhaled a deep breath, "Will you marry me?"

Present day:

'Worried' didn't even begin to justify a fraction of what I was feeling. I was restless, agitated, nervous, and on edge. I jumped at every little noise, like a girl recovering from a severe bout of paranoia and PTSD combined.

How was I supposed to sit through this meeting with my parents? How was I going to walk out of the meeting unscathed? Surely if my parents weren't the ones to skin me alive after finding out what I'd done, I would die of a heart attack triggered by my own nerves instead.

Without realizing it, I let out a loud, tremulous sigh—which actually sounded a lot more like a gasp coming from an asthmatic eighty-year old woman…or any other person on the brink of death, really.

"Clary," Jace's voice came from beside me. He was driving with one hand on the steering wheel and the other gently gripping my bouncing knee. "Breathe. You're going to give yourself an aneurysm from all this worrying. I'm not ready to become a widower yet."

I smiled despite myself. "You could marry again though. To that girl who's supposed to be your fiancée…"

Jace scowled. "Don't joke about that. I don't want to marry another girl."

I laced my fingers through Jace's. "I don't want to marry another man either. Even if our respective weddings are supposed to be two days from now."

"Good."

We drove in silence again, save for the sound of the radio playing in the background. Thinking Out Loud by Ed Sheeran was streaming through the car speakers, and I smiled when I heard Jace singing along—singing to me. The tension in my shoulders dissipated, and before long, I was singing with Jace, the two of us grinning like idiots at each other.

"I'm thinking out loud…that maybe we found love right where we are… Oh maybe we found love right where we are… And we found love right where we are…"

Just as the song came to a stop, so did our car.

I glanced at the restaurant where we would be meeting our parents, and squeezed Jace's hand. He squeezed mine right back.

"It's going to be okay," he reassured me.

I unbuckled my seatbelt and reluctantly let Jace's hand go. I then leaned over the space in between our car seats and kissed him. His large palm cupped the side of my face as he kissed me back, our lips caressing slowly as we savored each other.

"I love you, Jace," I whispered when I pulled away. His eyes carefully watched me, as if waiting for me to break down. Thankfully, I didn't. Instead, I opened the car door and stepped out with a silent grace and confidence I didn't knew I had, willing myself to not look back.

The moment I walked into the restaurant, everything around me functioned on autopilot. I vaguely recalled telling the staff that I was there for a reservation under Morgenstern, and then…nothing. Even when I was walking towards our assigned table, I was still blank, just barely able to process anything. My parents came into view far too soon for my liking, and I struggled against the urge to backpedal and hightail it out of there.

I gave my Mom and Dad a weak smile when they stood up to greet me, Mom with a hug and Dad with a kiss on the cheek.

"Clarissa, we've missed you," Dad said. "You've been away from home far too long. What were you doing in London these past six months?"

"Why haven't you called, or answered our calls? We've been worried," Mom interjected.

I shrugged, trying not to feel affected by the disapproval I heard in their tone. "I wanted to get away for awhile. Besides, you didn't have to worry about me. I wasn't there to run away. I just wanted space. I texted you, didn't I?"

"You're lucky I didn't fly into London to drag you home," Dad scolded.

I frowned. "Why didn't you then?"

"Excuse me?"

"You could've come after me in London and took me home," I said slowly, "but you didn't. So why didn't you?"

Mom placed her hand on top of Dad's, as if to calm him down. "Your father wanted to, but I thought it was only fair to give you some time. I knew you weren't going to take the news of your arranged marriage well. I'd anticipated it."

"But?" I hedged her.

"There is no 'but'," Dad grumbled. "We've given you all the freedom you could possibly have, Clarissa, but now is the time to grow up. You were lucky that your mother and I have exercised any of this patience at all—that we didn't force you to take part in your wedding planning. But now everything's arranged—"

"You should see the dress I had tailor-made for you, Clary. It's beautiful," Mom gushed. "Oh, and the flowers and decorations for the reception… You'll love it—"

"I don't want to get married," I blurted out.

Mom and Dad froze, and then almost simultaneously, they both turned red with rage.

"I beg your pardon?" Dad said in a dangerously calm voice. "Don't want to get married?"

"I'm married," I whispered, looking down at my lap. I twisted the white gold circlet on my finger; Jace had bought me the ring about a month ago, a symbol of his love and commitment towards our union. "I've been married for the past six months and I love my husband. I don't want to leave him."

I finally looked up. Mom had paled at my confession, but Dad…Dad looked almost purple now, that I feared that he would reach across the table and strike me.

"You—"

"Valentine, Jocelyn! What a surprise to see you both here!" A stranger's voice interrupted, just when I was certain that my father was about to start hurling offense at me. Dad composed himself rather quickly as he stood up to greet the uninvited guest—or should I say…guests?

I stared at Jace, stunned as he was, when my parents began to exchange greetings and hugs with a blond man and woman, whose faces I had only seen in the photographs framed in my husband's apartment. His parents—and my in-laws, I realized.

I quickly stood up and rushed to Jace's side, carelessly slipping my hand into his. "What's going on here? How do your parents know mine?" he whispered frantically into my ear.

"I don't know," I whispered back. "Maybe they've done business deals with each other before. Did you tell your parents about us?"

"Not yet," Jace answered, looking worried. "I was about to tell them and then they saw your parents and came bounding towards them. Did you tell your parents about us?"

"I did. I just told them that I'm married and then you came—"

The sound of a throat clearing—my Dad's—made me halt mid-sentence.

Jace and I looked away from each other and at the four pairs of eyes currently focused on us. Uh-oh. I hadn't prepared for this at all. A confrontation with both sets of parents within the same space? D-I-S-A-S-T-E-R. The original plan was to ease our parents into the news—separately—that we were married, and then once they were calm and more or less accepting of the idea, we would introduce them to each other. Not like this!

Jace's mom was the first to break the unnerving silence. "What's going on here?" She asked, and I couldn't help but notice that it was the same question her own son had asked me a minute ago.

"Jonathan Christopher Herondale," his dad intoned, "Why are you holding Clarissa's hand?"

That's it. We were done for. Why weren't we running yet?

As if they had it all rehearsed, our parents zoomed in on our tightly clasped hands. Out of self-consciousness, I tried to yank my hand away but Jace held firm.

"We're married," he casually said as if he were introducing his name. A collective gasp left our mothers while our fathers' expressions remained unreadable.

"We married six months ago, and no, we're not going to get a divorce just because you've planned for us to get married to someone else. I love Clary," Jace looked over at me, "And she loves me. Nothing any of you say or do can tear us apart."

The silence. Oh, how I hated the silence. It was so deafening that you could hear a pin drop. I was fairly certain that we had everyone's attention—and I do mean everyone. Our parents, the other diners, the servers. Going to a high-profiled restaurant was a mistake. I knew we should have invited them over to my old apartment in Brooklyn instead.

"Mom," Jace suddenly sounded like a small child as he looked to his mother for help. She looked the least capable of killing us so I didn't blame him. "Say something."

Celine exchanged a look with my mother, and in a matter of seconds, they were jumping up and down while hugging each other and squealing. My jaw dropped at the sight of our mothers behaving like a bunch of teenage girls—Jace's too. Our fathers looked at each other, shrugged, then shook hands.

Lost. I was so bloody lost.

"Sweetheart, are you seeing the same thing I'm seeing or is it just me?" Jace whispered.

"They've gone nuts," I hissed. "This is a ploy to make us believe that we're safe. We should make a run for it now. Before they attack us with the silverware."

Jace snorted. "There you go again, Miss Paranoid."

"I don't trust them, Jace—" I broke off, squealing, when I was yanked into a suffocating embrace in between my mother and mother-in-law.

"Welcome to the family, dear!" Celine crooned.

"Why didn't you tell us you got married sooner? I don't care what you say, you're still showing up to your wedding in two days to get married—properly this time," Mom said.

"Jace, save me!" I screamed. Then turning back to my mother, I added in a slightly affronted tone, "And our wedding was legitimate and proper, I assure you."

Dad cleared his throat again. "If you ladies would take a seat…we have some very important things to discuss." He looked at Jace, who was squirming underneath my father's stern, penetrative gaze. I could tell that the other two women—my mom and Celine, I meant—were reluctant to let me go, but they did so anyway.

We all settled back into our seats, me huddling as close as possible to Jace as our parents stared at us, our moms looking frighteningly cheerful as if they had each downed a bottle of happy pills. Inside, I was reeling with shock while my brain struggled to catch up. The way our mothers had reacted, with strong approval, meant that… My eyes widened as realization hit.

"First question: how did you know that you were engaged to be married?" Stephen asked.

I gaped at Jace, and he did the same. All this time…me ending up in Vegas by accident, bumping into Jace, finding out that we were both secretly promised to someone else, marrying each other in secret, and then now finding out that that 'someone else' was…each other?!

Jace's words on the night we met echoed in my head… I had believed us finding each other in Vegas was a coincidence, but Jace had been convinced that it was fate pulling us together. Now I knew which one of us was right… God works in mysterious ways, indeed, I thought gratefully.

Clearing my throat, I answered, "We didn't. We met by chance, and…took a chance, I guess."

"Six months ago? Right after you both learned the news that you were to be married?" Dad was back to being his scary calm self.

"Yes, sir," Jace answered after seeing me flinch.

"Hmm," Dad narrowed his eyes. "And where did you get married?"

Jace and I took a deep breath and answered in unison. "Vegas."

A/N: I can't stress enough that one should not take this story seriously since I only wrote it for my own fun and amusement. Unless you're Clary and Jace (who are endgame) and you exist in a purely fictional world, then you should never say 'yes' to marrying a complete stranger you've only just met. That's dangerous, and well, crazy. And it's always best to get your parents' or guardians' blessings before getting married, methinks.

Let me know your thoughts on this one-shot. I'd love to hear them!

p.s. Be sure to check out my multi-chapter fic Redemption and other one-shots!

Until then, peace xoxo