"That you’d better continue to keep that way," I threatened, shooting him a significant look.
I wasn't sure if Kandice would find it horrible that my friend and I had filled one of our teacher's offices with fish after they'd tried to grope a friend of ours, then failed her for not obliging.
In George's office, the clock ticked noisily. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
The air smelled musty, like the room hadn’t been dusted in ages. George wasn’t exactly the cleanest person I knew, but he was a hard worker and a great guy.
"So," George said, grinning. "Are we ready, or are we ready?"
He used the kind of tone you use on terrified children when they're waiting to see the dentist.
"We're ready," I confirmed, nodding, as if that would reinforce my certainty.
As much as I'd rushed into this, despite being indecisive about the whole thing, at this moment I knew how big of a deal it was. I was marrying Kandice. Kandice, whose last name I’d only learned when I’d prepared her travel papers for her. Kandice, who I’d met days ago.
I gave George one last questioning look, but he only patted me as he retrieved the paperwork.
"Don't worry, buddy, you're doing the best you can under the circumstances."
His gaze slid to Kandice approvingly. "Plus, you look like a great girl, too. You never know, guys, this might actually work for real!"
Kandice remained silent. Clearly, she wasn't as familiar with being in survival mode as I was. No matter. All she had to do was sign the papers and we would be fine. At least for now.
Hopefully, when it came to deciding particulars, like living together, meeting my family, et cetera, her attitude would improve.
Not that I could blame her for being uncomfortable with this whole thing. It wasn't every day that you were asked to marry a stranger for the purpose of saving a family business you'd never heard of.
"And don't worry," George continued. "If worst comes to worst, there's always divorce."
I smiled thinly at him, as if that had been effective in consoling me. I knew George meant well.
As I signed the paperwork, a strange sensation came over my body. A tensing that made my signature conversely sloppy. Kandice, for her part, stared down at the line that was meant for her signature for a long, hard minute. Then, just as I was about to speak, she lifted her pen-clasping hand and, with long, slender fingers, she began to sign her name.
There it was, Kandice McArthur. Just like that, we were married.
George was delighted. Clasping both of his paunchy hands, a healthy glow appeared on his cheeks. "Well folks, there you have it: you're married!"
Rising, he regarded us once more with twinkling blue eyes. "Now, how about a kiss to seal the deal?"
Before I could see Kandice's reaction, I clasped her face with both of my hands and pressed my lips to hers.
Fuck. Talk about a jolt of electricity. The feeling went straight through me, lighting up all my nerves.
I ripped away, to see Kandice flushed.
What the hell was that? A platonic kiss? Yeah, right.
"Okay," George said, tittering a little. Clearly, he'd seen the same thing that was obvious to anyone with eyes: that kiss was no fake.
Kandice mustered herself out of her seat and headed toward the door. "Thank you," she said to George.
Then she was gone.
"Gotta go," I said, rushing after her, irritation flaring through me. George just waved.
What was her problem? I knew that these weren't the most ideal of circumstances, and maybe I shouldn't have just kissed her like that, but still. She had agreed to this; she had understood that this was in both of our best interests. There was no point getting all moody about it now.
Back at the hotel, Kandice was already getting changed.
I stood in the doorway awkwardly. "I thought we could maybe go for dinner or a drink. Finish up where we left off last time."
Kandice paused while in the middle of unclasping an earring.
"What's wrong?" I finally asked.
She turned to me; her face flushed once more. "I don't know. All of it, I guess. I know that it's for the best and that we're both helping each other out, just... Didn't that ceremony just feel wrong to you?"
"Yes," I admitted simply. "It did."
Kandice closed her eyes, exhaled heavily, then moved toward me. "You're right. I'm sorry for the way I acted earlier."
As we made our way to the door, I paused again. "If you want, we don't have to..." I corrected myself mid-speech. "Maybe we could take an hour or two, just for ourselves. Lay low in the hotel for a bit before we go out."
Kandice's face brightened. "Really?"
Irritation crackled in me. "You don't have to just agree to things you don't want to do just because of this arrangement," I said. "You can be honest with me."
"You're right," she said, looking genuinely apologetic. "I'm sorry. It's just messing with my head a little bit, what I should and shouldn't be doing with you, now, or in the future, with each new person we meet—"
My hand caught hers gently. "We'll figure it out."
She mustered a smile. "I hope so."
Over the next hour, I made some business calls while Kandice lounged on the bed and read a book.
Once I finished, there was still a good twenty minutes before we were going to leave, so I found myself sketching. I wasn't really thinking about what I wanted to draw. Instead, I allowed my gaze to roam about the room, thinking about where to go for dinner. The restaurant on the main floor of the hotel seemed nice enough, but... I'd ask Kandice what she thought, then decide. I had a good eye for restaurants, after all.
Once I was finished sketching, I glanced down and paused. What the…?
There, on my sketchpad, unlike the typical trees, nature, and furniture that I normally drew, was a person. Not just any person, either. Staring at me sadly, was Kandice. It wasn't just her in any form, either.
It was a naked, dreamy rendering of her and her mouthwatering curves.
"Whatcha drawing?" Kandice asked. I ripped my paper away, but not before she got a glance.
An awkward silence descended.
"Ready for dinner?" I asked stiltedly.
"Yep," she agreed, her tone indicating that she was just as eager to get out of this moment as I was.
As soon as we got outside, Kandice stiffened, stopping in her tracks.
"You know what?" She said in a strained voice. "I'm not actually that hungry. We can just skip it and go back to the room. It was nice just relaxing."
I followed her gaze to a man standing in the corner, in front of the hotel entrance, staring at us. He had slanted, threatening eyes, and was clad in a suit, his dark hair falling over his face.
I stared back at him brazenly. Then my eyes moved to Kandice again. She couldn't possibly believe that…
Taking her by the arm, we went back into the lobby where I sat us down on a couch.
"Kandice," I said quietly.
"I know," she said. "I'm probably just being paranoid, but I feel safest when I'm in closed rooms. Or at least somewhere where there aren't shifty-looking men staring at me, men who look vaguely familiar."
"Are you sure?" I asked her.
She sighed. "You know what? No. I'm not sure. I think I'm just freaking out. I haven't been sleeping well the past few nights."
"Neither have I," I admitted. "But that hasn't affected my appetite yet. Are you sure you don't want to go to a restaurant, maybe try and enjoy New York a bit?"
I hated to play the trump card, but I continued with my convincing. "You do realize that it would probably be easier for him to sneak in here and kill us in our room than in a crowded, noisy, populated restaurant, right?"
I wasn't so sure about that, though. It wasn't like I had an in-depth knowledge on the logistics of killing someone; where the best place would be, what to use. I tried to say it all with a straight face to offer Kandice a sense of security.
Anyway, I was positiv
e she was just overreacting. I would never put her in harm's way, and if it ever came down to it... Maybe I would take a bullet for her. I would only know if it happened.
"Fine," Kandice said. "But can you call the taxi in advance, so we just have to walk outside and get in?"
"On it," I said, picking up my phone. With my other hand, I gave her thigh a pat.
Our gazes met. Just then, the reassuring thing I was going to say escaped me. Instead, my thoughts were replaced by the imagery of inching my hand up just a little bit higher... And then higher. Then under the velvet ruffles of her skirt, until I met her panties and then...
Get on task, Giovanni.
I dialed the taxi service and arranged to have one come get us, and to call when he arrived.
"There," I said, hanging up. My phone immediately rang again. It was the taxi driver. "Wow. I guess he was nearby," I said with a little chuckle.
I probably should have thought to ask the hotel clerk, but when we'd gone outside, I hadn't seen any cabs milling about.
Outside, we walked straight to the taxi. Kandice avoided looking at the man the entire time, but I made sure I made eye contact. Eye to eye, man to man.
I don't know what his look said, but I knew what mine did. Watch yourself. You go for this woman, you go for me. And you'll pay for it.
The ride to the restaurant was short and uneventful. Other than the fact that we hadn't exactly decided which restaurant we were heading to. As the taxi passed several places that would have sufficed, he thankfully only suggested restaurants that were some of the best-known in the city. We finally decided on Bocaito Cafe and Wine Bar. It had a patio outside, and right now we both needed the fresh air.
As soon as we arrived, a furrow appeared between Kandice's brows.
"What is it?" I asked.
"It's my parents," she explained, glaring at her phone. "They keep texting me. I even called them the other day thinking it would calm things down but... Now they're just more concerned. They heard about some young woman’s body that was found in the Shanghai river, and now they're worried it was me. I guess I should tell them that I'm going to be back in town soon, but..." She bit her lip. "Maybe I'll give it a few weeks."
Surprise laughter sputtered out of my lips. "A few weeks?"
A flush rose over the milky white of Kandice's cheeks. "Not everyone is as close to their parents as you are. I love my mom and dad; I just don't want them breathing down my neck with every choice I make."
"Tell me about it," I said dryly.
Kandice's look changed and as she tugged gently on one of her earrings, I realized she’d gone from annoyance to sympathy. "Sorry, I shouldn't be playing the woe-is-me card. It's not like you don't have your own family issues, too. Anyway, I'll be right back."
As she left for the bathroom, I followed the hostess to our table and ordered us a few drinks.
My phone had a message, too. It was from Gino.
I know what you're doing, it said.
I could only stare at the message blankly. What did he mean? How could he know about Kandice and I when—Maria. It must have been her. But when he said he knows what I'm doing, it couldn't mean that he knows the whole scope of it, right? No.
11
Kandice
Once, I got back, I drank my mojito in under a minute.
"Family talk that good?" Giovanni asked me with arched brows.
I dabbed away a drop on the corner of my mouth. "That obvious, eh?"
Giovanni drummed his fingers on the table, taking a generous swig of his own drink. "Let me guess. They want you to come to the U.S as soon as possible. And you, while reassuring them, haven't told them that you are, in fact, already here."
"Got me," I said, my eyes roaming for our server, or at least someone who could get me another drink.
"Slow down there, wifey," Giovanni joked.
I tried to smile. "So, are we going to talk about living together once we get to Miami?" I found myself asking before I could help it.
Giovanni had been in the process of transferring his napkin to the other side of the table, but instead, placed it down, flattening it. It was the napkin to which he directed his displeased response. "Is the idea of living with me that repulsive?"
"No," I said quickly. "Just..." I trailed off, staring at the dregs of my drink desperately. Damn it. Wasn't drinking supposed to make you less tense? Right now, I felt like if Giovanni poked me, I would shatter into thousands of tiny pieces.
The truth was, I liked being around Giovanni more than I'd expected, and even more with each passing day. I hardly knew the guy, and yet...
Then there was that sketch of me he'd drawn. Why? We both knew what this was. Business, plain and simple.
Though, as my eyes were drawn to meet his, I couldn't help but wonder... Why did business feel so much like pleasure?
I bit my lip and practically exhaled in relief when I finally caught sight of our waitress.
"More drinks?" She chirped with a Cheshire Cat smile.
"Please," I said.
"You still haven't answered the question," Giovanni observed coolly, taking another long, less hurried sip of his drink.
I wasn't sure I was going to. Honestly, being in the same room as Giovanni made me want to jump his bones. Common sense said that wanting to sleep with the man who is supposed to be your fake husband wasn't the best idea. Business was business. Having amazing, hot sex with someone was... Well, something else entirely.
"We can talk about it when we get there," I finally said. "It's nothing personal. I just like my space."
"Understood," Giovanni said plainly.
The rest of the dinner went relatively well. No one showed up to try and kill me, anyway. The food was decent, Giovanni made pleasant, uncaring conversation, and I got the distinct feeling that this purposeful coolness was how we were going to deal with each other from now on.
It was a relief, and a disappointment.
As the second drink made its way through my lightweight veins, I tottered off to the bathroom and caught a glimpse of a stranger in the mirror. A stranger who, if I was being honest with myself, I knew itched to touch Giovanni. Whether it was his soft, wavy hair, or the stubble creeping along his jawline, or his firm biceps, swelling underneath his leather jacket. This person wanted more of my… Husband.
My reflection licked her lips.
Shit. Since when had I gotten so horny? Maybe it was just my cycle.
I put cool water on the back of my neck and exhaled. I counted to two, three, four, then went back to the table.
Back at our seats, Giovanni had already picked up the bill.
Wow, it had all really passed by in a flash. A flash of delicious pesto and pleasantly impersonal conversation, and just like that we were on our way home.
When we arrived back at the Hilton, we got into a sort of routine. We avoided eye contact and waited for the other to finish in the washroom. Then, we tucked into the single king-size bed—the same bed, damn it—and went to sleep.
Giovanni fell asleep almost immediately. Or, if he was awake, he didn't make it obvious.
I, conversely, lay there, staring into the depths of the blackout curtains, wondering if it was worth getting up, grabbing my book, and going into the bathroom to read so I could at least get rid of the thoughts mercilessly badgering me.
It wasn't like they were warm and fuzzy, that's for sure. Things like:
Jin got his, now you're going to get yours and,
This fake marriage—stupidest thing you've done yet and,
What are Mom and Dad going to think?
That was the most pressing issue. While the others could be written off as my inner bitch suffering some cruel paranoia, the last one had legitimacy. Mom and Dad were Class-A meddlers. Overprotective at the best of times. What were they going to say when they found out I'd married some guy that I'd only known for a week?
I got out of bed. Even in the dark, I could make out Giovanni's handsome profile. The high, proud pl
ane of his nose, the full, sensuous swell of his lips... This was my husband.
"Husband," I whispered under my breath, still watching him. I turned away.
Staring at your husband while he was sleeping was maybe a bit creepy, but staring at your fake husband in the same situation was definitely creepy.
A sigh fell out of me. I walked over to the kitchen suite. Maybe a banana would fill the emptiness I felt. Grabbing a ripe one from the bowl, I looked for a good place to sit and eat. The bathroom seemed depressing, so I made my way over to the balcony.
We hadn't used it yet, but I now had a chance to admire the balcony in all its beauty.
It was less of a balcony and more of a garden terrace. Three of the iron grates demarking the balcony had steel-framed trellises covered in a privacy veil of vines and flowers. Not like you’d need privacy on the tenth floor rooftop. Some of the flowers looked like begonias, but all I knew is that they were purple and pretty.
I let the door slide shut behind me as I inhaled the cool night air.
Yes. This is beautiful.
Even if my situation was all kinds of messed up, this was nice.
I moved over to the wall and peered down onto the street for a second before backing up to take in the few stars that were visible.
Hearing the door slide shut behind me, I whirled around, panic slamming my heart against my chest. "You..."
Giovanni blinked sleepily at me. He was completely, beautifully, naked.
"Me," he said quietly.
"What are you doing?" I asked as he drew closer to me, unable to peel my eyes off his beautifully sculpted form.
His eyes were still blinking sleepily, but there was an avidness in his gaze that stopped me. Within seconds, his lips were connected to mine.
Our faces fused together. God. I wanted him, all of him.
Our lips tugged and pulled, while our tongues twisted, dancing together as if we were never going to stop kissing, as if we'd been kissing our whole lives.
The in and out, the swirl and dip, the lick and lap, all foreshadowed what was coming.
Already I could feel the wetness between my thighs. With the flat of his hand, Giovanni pushed me to the edge of the balcony, my middle back against the hard iron grate, the sweet scent of the purple flowers overtaking me.
Playing Pretend Box Set Page 24
