by Holly Jaymes
Brother is here. Gotta go. I’m hard for you.
She sent back a kissy face emoji.
I set my phone, screen down, on my desk. I didn’t stand to greet my brother because my dick was still tenting my pants. “Do you want coffee or something?”
He waved my offer away as he sat in the chair in front of my desk. “No, thanks.”
“Bored? Maybe it’s time you got a job,” I joked with him. Mitch didn’t have to work another day in his life. Neither did his wife or kids. His grandkids would likely live off what he was worth now.
“Nah. The kids keep me busy enough.”
“I don’t see any kids. Hope give you the day off?” It was one thing I admired about Mitch. He didn’t seem to care much about social norms. He was happy to be the house husband while his wife built a fashion empire.
“Hope has a mommy and me class on Mondays.”
“So what brings you in?” I leaned back in my chair.
“Your marriage has all of us in a whirl.”
I shrugged. “I’m not as square as you thought.”
“Actually, this is something we’d have thought you’d do years ago.”
“Adalyn seems to bring out the old Will in me.” A part of me was annoyed at the notion that I’d changed so much. Or how I was teased about it. My father had died and the family needed someone to stand up. I did.
“You do know that she’s a bit of a legend in the tech industry.”
I didn’t know, but I could have guessed. “That’s why she’s working with us and CTS on this government contract. I didn’t know you knew her.”
“Of her. I know of her. I tried to recruit her years ago, but … well … no luck. And then I retired to live the rest of my days playing.” He grinned. It was nice to see him smile. Until Hope came back into his life, his smiles were few and far between.
“So, are you here to make sure I know my wife is a legend or are you here to bust my balls about how I kept my love life to myself?”
“I have no interest in knowing about your love life. But Mom, I think was hurt.”
Fuck. “So it’s a lecture you’re giving?”
He shook his head. “Actually, I’m here about something else related to your marriage.”
“I thought you didn’t have any interest in my love life,” I said, starting to get annoyed. What business was my marriage of his anyway?
“I might be retired, but I do keep myself in the game a bit. Calvin and I are friends.”
“Good to know. What’s that got to do with me?”
He studied me for a minute. “He wanted to know if this marriage was legit. Apparently there is a possibility that her visa won’t be renewed.”
My stomach clenched. Part of it was annoyance that my brother would question me, even though he was right to do so. The other part was that I was now forced to lie to him some more.
“Are you asking me if I’m breaking the law?”
“As ridiculous as the idea is, yes.” Then he waved a hand. “No. I don’t want to know. I’m here because you need to know that there is concern about how your marriage, and the investigation that is apparently going to happen, will affect the project between CTS and you.”
“Why would it?” I asked the question, even though I knew all sorts of ways this could go wrong.
“The government could revoke the contract.”
“Let ‘em. We can sell the security system to someone else.”
He laced his fingers, crossing them over his belly as he studied me. “What about your other contracts?”
“Same thing.”
“What about your company, Will? You could go to jail.”
I hoped he didn’t see me flinch. “Only if I’m breaking the law. Which I’m not.”
“It’s not like you to run to Vegas and get married,” Mitch said.
“I —”
He held up a hand to stop me. “I’m not saying that you wouldn’t or didn’t, but the people around you are going to say that was out of character.”
I gritted my teeth. “Breaking the law would be too.” I leaned forward. “Do you doubt my marriage? Do you think I’m incapable of having what you have with Hope?”
“Fuck no. But it wasn’t that long ago you were begging me not to be with Hope because you wanted a bachelor buddy for life.”
I shrugged like it was nothing, even though on the inside I was worried that my past would haunt me and lead Mr. Bigalow to think I was breaking the law. “It wasn’t that long ago you were committed to being a recluse in the woods. Things happen. People change.”
He sighed. “Look, if this is on the up and up —”
“If?” Pissed, and no longer hard, I shot up from my chair. “I know that this investigation could hurt us, but I’d been expecting that my family would support me.”
He stood holding his arms up in surrender. “I didn’t mean to question your —”
“Like hell you didn’t.” I thought about all I’d done to keep my mother and brothers together following my father’s death. All the effort I made to make sure Mitch in particular didn’t go completely off his rocker living in the woods. The things I gave up including a fast and free lifestyle. This was the appreciation I got. “If you can’t support me, you can go.”
He let out a breath. “Will, I’m sorry if I offended you.”
“I’m not offended, Mitch. I’m fucking hurt.”
The phone on my desk buzzed. I picked it up. “Sloane.”
“Mr. Sloane, I have a message from your wife.”
“Yes?”
“She’s been brought to the immigration office for questioning.”
“Fuck!” Then realizing my outburst, I said, “I’m sorry —”
“No. I thought the same thing,” she said.
I grabbed my coat. “I’ve got to go. Do me one favor, stay away from this. I can’t afford to have you saying something that leads to my wife being deported.”
“Will, come on.” Mitch reached out and took my arm to stop me.
“I can’t do this now. It’s quite possible she’s being deported as I stand here wasting my time with you.” I pulled my arm away and rushed out the door.
I’d brought all this on myself, I thought as I cursed at the traffic in the way of my getting to Adalyn. It would have been easier to stick with my plan. Keep my distance from her. But as I made my way to the immigration office, I couldn’t regret my decision. And it had nothing to do with her value on the project that would protect a nation. She brought color and laughter back into my life. I resisted it, but now that it was back, I wasn’t going to let some weasel immigration officer take it away again.
Book 4: Chapter 21—Where All the Moles Are
Where All the Moles Are
Adalyn
I wasn’t innocent when I first met Will, but I wouldn’t have said I was well-traveled in the ways of bedroom games. One night with Will, and I’d had more Os and had learned my way around a man’s body better than I ever had before. For a man who was so guarded, in bed, Will was open, giving as much as he demanded. And he demanded a lot. My body shivered in delight just thinking of it.
Waking up with his mouth sucking on a nipple and discovering it was real, not a dream, had to be the highlight of the last twelve hours. Or maybe it was how wild he was when I sucked him to the back of my throat. I liked seeing him so loose and free.
After my morning O, we dressed and had breakfast. Then he kissed me as he headed out the door, like a normal married couple. I had a grin on my face as I made my trip to the office.
“Someone got a little something-something,” Stu said as I walked to my desk. Was it that obvious? I didn’t care.
“Marriage privileges.”
I worked for a while, but I couldn’t get Will’s great body and sexy smile out of my brain. I knew I shouldn’t bother him at work. After all, he was all seriousness when he worked. But, unable to help myself, I texted him.
I’m still in an orgasm fog. You rocked my wo
rld, wild man.
Should I apologize? He texted back.
Only if you’re sorry.
I’m not sorry. In fact, I’m looking forward to doing it again.
Yeah! To be honest, I worried a little bit that when the arousal wore off, he’d rethink blurring the lines. To let him know I was game, I texted back, Any time. Any place.
Are you saying you want something more exciting than my bed?
I wondered if he had a place in mind? I’m saying any time, any place…bed, bath, table, floor, elevator…
Office desk?
I’d never been in Will’s office, but I imagined it was private with a large, dark wood desk that I could sit on while he ate me out or fucked me. My body heated and my pussy started to ache. Oh God, Will…you’re making me hot. I might have to take care of myself.
Only if I can watch.
Oh. My. God. The idea of Will watching me get off was so erotic, I had to squirm in my chair. Then I imagined watching him stroke his long, thick dick and I was sure I was going to combust right there at my desk.
I didn’t have a chance to respond, when he texted, Brother is here. Gotta go. I’m hard for you.
I sent him a kissy face emoji.
I was still grinning when my phone rang. “Adalyn Beaumont.” Then remembering that I was married, I quickly added, “Sloane.”
“Ms. Beaumont.”
My orgasm high dropped like a lead balloon. “It’s Sloane, Mr. Bigalow.”
“Ah, right. I’ve received the copy of your green card application.”
That was fast. “Is there something wrong?”
“You’ve submitted some of requisite documentation; however, as I mentioned the circumstances are suspicious. I’ve presented your case to my supervisor and he’s in agreement that we need to vet this carefully.”
I wondered what I ever did to Mr. Bigalow to warrant his distrust of me. Or maybe it was how he treated everyone. Or maybe I was randomly picked for screening, sort of like what TSA agents did at the airport.
“For that reason, I need you to come in for an interview.”
I pulled up my calendar on my computer. “What day and time?”
“Now, Ms. Beaumont.”
“It’s Sloane.” Was he testing me? “And now? I’m at work. I missed a few days last week and need to catch up.”
“You didn’t mind missing work to take a hot air balloon ride.”
Jeez, he was thorough. But at least it showed we were doing the types of things that couples did.
“I need to let my boss know. I’m at least twenty minutes away, depending on traffic.”
“Get here when you can.”
I hung up the phone and let Cal know I needed to head out to deal with my immigration status.
“Should I call Will?” he asked.
“I’ll let him know.” I called Will’s office in the car and gave his secretary the message. He was meeting with his brother, and I didn’t want to interrupt that for some stupid hoop Bigalow was making me jump through.
When I arrived, I found a two-hour parking spot and hoped that this meeting wouldn’t take longer than that. Just my luck I’d have to deal with U.S immigration and the city meter maid if I was kept too long.
I walked in and checked in with the front desk. Ten minutes later, Mr. Bigalow called me back to his office.
“Ms. Beaumont —”
“Mr. Bigalow, if you’re trying to trip me up on my name, you can just stop. It’s Mrs. Sloane.”
“It’s a simple slip,” he said, motioning for me to sit in a chair in front of his desk.
“I’d think a man like you in such an important, detailed-oriented job, wouldn’t make such slips.” It probably wasn’t wise to antagonize him, but it was too late now. In the future, I’d need to do better at holding my frustration in.
“Did you bring your paperwork?” he asked.
“What paperwork? You said to come, I’m here. You didn’t mention paperwork.”
“Your ID?”
I opened my purse and pulled out my Canadian passport and handed it to him.
“Your marriage certificate?”
“I don’t carry that with me. Is that new law in the United States? We have to carry our marriage certificates?”
“You’re asking to stay based on marriage, so I’d think you’d know I’d need to see the certificate.”
“You made it sound like I needed to be here ASAP, so I didn’t go home to get my immigration folder or marriage certificate.” God, where was the certificate anyway? Will had taken charge of it. Where had he put it?
He made a pfft sound. I may have been paranoid, but I couldn’t help but think he wanted me to fail. Did he get bonuses for each deportation?
“I don’t have a copy of the I-130. Has your husband filled it out?” he asked.
“Ah …I don’t know what that is.”
He rolled his eyes. “You’re not very prepared, Mrs. Sloane.”
“No, I’m not. I wasn’t given any time to prepare.” I didn’t want to come off disrespectful of the U.S. or the process, so I added. “Tell me what you need, and I’ll prepare it. I want to be cooperative.”
“I have no doubt that you’ll gather the requisite paperwork, but we’ll need to schedule you and Mr. Sloane both for an interview.”
I nodded. Finally he was saying something I knew about. “Yes, I’m aware of that.”
He leaned forward, his beady dark eyes staring intently at me. “Do you really think spending a few days together married will give you the details you need to pass?”
“Did I say or do something to offend you Mr. Bigalow?”
He jerked back. “Why would you ask that?”
“Because I feel like you’re out to get me. Even before I got married, I felt like you wanted to kick me out of your great country.”
He inhaled a breath. “I assure you, I’m just doing my job. Let me ask you this, what is your husband’s date of birth?”
I rattled it off, remembering it as part of the many things Will and I had gone over for just this situation.
“What is his salary?”
“Billionaire.”
He smirked. “That’s not his salary.”
“He owns a billion-dollar security firm. Are you now going to also accuse me of marrying him for his money?” Inwardly I winced. I wasn’t doing a good job keeping my cool.
“Have you considered what happens to his billion-dollar firm if it’s proven that he’s engaging in marriage fraud?”
I swallowed the lump that formed in my throat. I hoped Mr. Bigalow didn’t notice.
“Aside from the possibility of his going to jail, there is the ruination of his reputation and the loss of his business. How many people do you think a billion-dollar company helps support? All of them will be out of a job.”
I had thought of this, sort of. But Will had said we were in too far now to get out.
“I understand the need for all your laws, Mr. Bigalow, but I find it very sad that you’re saying I should have said no to Will’s proposal because you or your country doesn’t believe in love between people from different countries.”
“We don’t like fraud.”
“For a country that says its citizens are innocent until proven guilty, it appears that you’ve decided I’m guilty and are asking me to prove my innocence.”
His eyes narrowed. “Don’t tell me about my country.”
“Then don’t tell me I don’t love my husband. I don’t know how knowing my husband’s salary helps, anyway. Anyone can look that up. How do any of these questions look into our hearts?”
He sat back. “If you know so much about the U.S., you know we’re a country of laws.”
“I do. And I respect them. I’ll bring in the paper work and answer your questions. Do you want to know the last time I had sex with my husband?” Okay, so all of the questions on the list I could have asked him about, that might not have been the best.
He flinched.
�
��This morning. It was lovely, in case that’s on the test.” Shut up, Adalyn, my brain screamed. I pulled out my phone. “Can you tell me what I need to do and bring to our next interview? I have that Will needs to complete the I-130, and I need to gather my immigration papers thus far and my marriage certificate. Anything else?” I quirked a brow, letting him know I was going to jump through any hoop necessary. At this point, I had to. If Will and I failed, he’d be ruined.
“I need originals of all the forms you sent in with your application.”
I tapped that into the list I made on my phone.
“A new doctor’s report.”
I looked up at him. “The one I submitted with my visa application can’t transfer?”
“No,” he said. Then, “Paperwork showing a joint life with your husband.”
“Like what?” I asked.
“Both your names on bank accounts, the mortgage, utilities, that sort of thing.”
Goodness. I hadn’t even considered those things. I didn’t know if Will had a mortgage. Did billionaires have loans? He might be willing to put me on loans, but not on his assets. Maybe I needed to sign a prenup. Even so, I noted it on my phone’s note app.
“Anything else?” I asked.
“You were being impertinent when you told me about your intimate life, but those types of questions are not off limits.”
“The people of the United States sure have a weird relationship with sex,” I said.
“Why do you say that?”
“Well, I suspect the idea that sex sells comes from here and the fact that a government agency would ask about intimate relations suggest a strange fascination with it. At the same time, Americans can be real prudes. Not that Canadians can’t either, but … well … sex is a topic that often makes people uncomfortable. Clearly you’re not uncomfortable with it.” I looked him in the eyes. “And neither am I. I can tell you where every mole on Will’s body is. And if that proves to you that my marriage is real, I’ll document each one for you. I’ll even sketch it if you want.”
He grimaced. “Good to know, Mrs. Sloane.”
“Anything else, Mr. Bigalow?”
Just then his door burst open and Will rushed in. “What’s the meaning of dragging my wife in like this?”
