The Deal (Arranged Book 1)

by Stella Gray

  “Of course!” I lied cheerfully. “It’s just…all the running around. You know how it is. It’s just been exhausting. In fact, I should probably go take a nap.”

  She let out a slow breath, and then said, “Tori, I’ve known you since you were two years old. You put on a hell of a happy face, but I can tell when something’s bothering you. Spill it.”

  I paused, not sure how to explain that I still hadn’t consummated my marriage. I trusted her, but the last thing I wanted was detailed advice about how to seduce my husband, especially since I knew exactly who she’d used all her tips and tricks on. The mental images of her and my father were the absolute last thing I’d need while trying to lure Stefan into bed.

  But the truth was, I did need help. And I didn’t have anyone else to turn to.

  “Stefan’s not interested in sex,” I blurted out. “I mean, he is. Definitely. But not with me.”

  This time the long pause came from her.

  “Tell me what happened,” she finally said, spacing out her words carefully.

  I took a deep breath, humiliated but desperate for advice. “I dressed up for him in the lingerie, just like you said, and I was ready and everything.” I was babbling, the words like a breaking dam. “Not just on our wedding night in Chicago, but again in Vienna too. But he was dead asleep by the time I came to bed the first night and I don’t think he even noticed the second time. He’s been totally ignoring me. He says he’s ‘working.’ He’s always working.”

  “Oh, honey. You’ve seen what it’s like at home with your father and me.”

  “Yeah, but…I thought it would be different with us,” I admitted. “At least at first. We’re newlyweds.” I could barely keep the hurt out of my voice on the last sentence.

  I hated this. I hated feeling like a little kid in my own marriage. Hated feeling like I didn’t have any control over what was happening.

  “You knew what this was going to be,” Michelle reminded me. “Stefan is like your father—his work is always going to come first. You understand how it goes. And you need to respect that.”

  “I do,” I argued, absently tugging the ends of my hair with frustration. “And I’m not trying to keep him from his work…”

  “You’re not?” Michelle asked, her voice gentle.

  I thought for a moment. “I’m not trying to.”

  “I believe you,” Michelle’s voice held no judgment. “But even if you’re not intentionally distracting him, you’re not helping either. That’s our job. We’re supposed to make our husbands’ lives easier.”

  I knew she was right. I had done a variation of that for my father my entire life, always putting his needs first. Somehow, I had thought it would be different with Stefan. That he would want me to be more than just a warm smile and attentive ear at the end of the day. I thought we’d have something we could share.

  “You need to rethink the way you approach him,” Michelle said. “The way you communicate. You can’t be one more thing he has to deal with—one more thing that requires his work and attention. You have to give him what he needs, when he needs it.”

  “How do I even know what that is?” I asked, feeling frustrated. “He won’t tell me.”

  “He shouldn’t have to,” Michelle reprimanded me. “You need to take the initiative in your relationship. Figure out exactly what he needs, and be the person who gives it to him.”

  Initiative. I knew what she was implying.

  “I tried that,” I told her. “It doesn’t seem like he wants me.”

  “Men never know what they want,” Michelle said. “They think they do, but sometimes they don’t really know until it’s right in front of them.”

  “I was right in front of him!” I argued, feeling more and more frustrated. “I was ready!”

  “It’s more than just dressing up in lingerie and standing there waiting,” Michelle chided. “You have to act like you want him. Tell Stefan point blank that you’re there for him—that you’re there to fulfill his needs. Then ask him what they are.”

  “I guess I could try that,” I conceded, feeling embarrassed. Why hadn’t I thought of that?

  I sat there, twisting my wedding ring around my finger, processing her words.

  “He’s got a lot going on, Tori. He works so hard to support his family’s business, and a lot of people depend on him,” Michelle continued. “You need to prove to him that you’re the person he can depend on. You need to provide him with an escape. When he’s with you, he shouldn’t be worried about business deals or bank accounts or anything else. You are the calm in the storm. You need to give him something that no one else does.”

  “But what about me?” The question slipped out before I could stop it.

  There was a long pause.

  “You should be grateful,” Michelle said. Her voice was gentle but her tone was firm. “You’re getting the opportunity of a lifetime. Not just this trip and all the luxuries that come with it, but you’re getting your college paid for, remember? It’s what you wanted, more than anything. So that’s the trade-off.”

  “But…” My voice cracked. “He’s so different than I expected. I don’t know if I can love him.”

  “You’ll learn to love him. But god, Tori. If you want this life, you need to understand the part you play and act accordingly. The relationship will grow with time. It won’t just happen overnight, but it will happen. You just need to commit to the give and take, okay? Trust me.”

  When she put it like that, it made sense. Stefan was giving me the opportunity I’d been dreaming of. College had always been the goal. Here he was, handing it to me in good faith, and I’d given him nothing in return except a day of frivolous spending and drunken antics at a bar. I needed to prove that I was worthy of this gift.

  “He barely even talks to me,” I confessed, unable to tell Michelle any of the other things that had transpired between myself and Stefan. “How am I supposed to ask him what he wants?”

  I knew she’d be horrified if I told her about the temper tantrum I’d thrown in Vienna—spending tons of my new husband’s money and then standing him up for dinner out of spite. And if she knew I’d dressed myself up like I had, just to get drunk and flirt with a total stranger at the hotel bar, Michelle would probably fly all the way to Budapest and give me more than just a firm talking to. And I would deserve it.

  I had been acting like a spoiled brat.

  “Don’t ask. Just point blank say to him, ‘Tell me what you need.’ It works every time,” Michelle told me. “If he seems standoffish, it’s probably because he’s resentful that you haven’t consummated your relationship yet, and the longer this goes on, the worse it will be for you. So get back in the game and seduce him.”

  “Are you sure? I mean…I just don’t understand why he hasn’t made a move first,” I said. “Unless he doesn’t want me.”

  Michelle laughed, not unkindly. “Think about it, Tori. He knows how inexperienced you are. He probably thinks you’re afraid of him. That’s why he hasn’t made the first move! You have to show him that you want him.”

  Even though I knew she couldn’t see me, I nodded, my mind whirling. Her practical, expert advice made perfect sense, as usual. And it had given me plenty of ideas.

  We got off the phone and I composed a text to Stefan:

  I’m ordering dinner in from room service. Is 7 good?

  He responded after a lengthy pause. That’s fine. Thank you.

  I would do exactly what Michelle had told me to do. I’d seduce him.

  And I’d do it so well that he’d never look at another woman again once we were done.

  Tori

  Chapter 14

  I slid on a blue dress that I’d gotten at the boutique, knowing the cool shade would bring out my eyes. It dipped so far down in the back, you could see the dimples above my ass. Like the one I’d worn to the Vienna Opera House, I couldn’t wear a bra with it. I was sure Stefan wouldn’t mind. The silk skimmed my body, cool and luxurious against
my skin, my nipples going instantly hard from the friction. The straps were halter style—one little tug and the whole thing would pool at my feet, leaving me standing there in nothing but a black lace thong.

  I paired the dress with my new black stilettos. Grace would have called them ‘fuck me heels.’ I had to admit, they sent the right message. My calves were taut from the steep arch of my foot, and the added height visually elongated my legs, making them look a mile long. With the power of these shoes, I could give all those models a run for their money. Maybe Stefan wouldn’t even bother taking them off before he took me to bed.

  In the mirror I could see my cheeks flushing as I thought about what it would be like to have my body spread out before him, naked except for my heels, ready and willing.

  Tonight was going to be the turning point. From now on, I was going to show this man exactly the kind of wife I was.

  As dinner time approached, my nerves skyrocketed. The room service staff came and went, arranging a series of domed silver trays amid a romantic table setting complete with candles, white roses, and soft classical music. The whole room felt like a private restaurant, a special hideaway just for us. I couldn’t wait for Stefan to see it all.

  I couldn’t wait for Stefan to see me.

  In addition to my sexy outfit, I had spent the last two hours making myself look as appealing as possible. I styled my hair to make him want to rake his fingers through it, leaving it down in soft, shining waves that fell across my shoulders and bare back. I kept my makeup minimal but sultry—thick, thick lashes, just a hint of a smoky eye, and wet, full lips that begged to be kissed. I had even dusted my cleavage with shimmering powder, to draw his eyes to the curves there. I gave myself a final once-over I looked good. I looked really, really good.

  As the clock inched toward seven, I began to get nervous. And excited. My entire body seemed to vibrate with heady anticipation. It was like my wedding night all over again.

  I sat at the table, watching the candles, my foot bouncing with impatience. I wanted Stefan to get here. I wanted him to come in the door, tense and spent from his long day, and then stop dead in his tracks at the sight of me.

  His gaze would go hungry and primal then, and without a word he’d drop his bag to the floor and sweep me up in his arms, those strong hands roaming all over my body. I could almost feel the heat of his lips at my neck, my chest, my collarbone. A shudder went through me. And he wouldn’t stop there. He’d draw my mouth toward his and with a low groan, he’d kiss me. Hard, deep, ravenous. Needing it the same way I did.

  I’d kiss him back just as hard, plunge my tongue into his mouth as he tore the silk dress from my body. Gasping for breath, we’d knock over the room service trays that had been painstakingly arranged, too reckless to care about the crash of plates, and he would lift me onto the table, spread my legs wide open and slide into me like he’d been craving it this whole time and couldn’t hold back anymore. I was ready to welcome his cock inside me. I wanted him to make me come. I wanted to make him come.

  My skin tingled, my imagination running rampant as I pictured all the ways we could bring each other pleasure. Even though I wasn’t very experienced, I fully intended to dedicate myself to learning exactly what Stefan liked. What made him hot and brought him to the edge.

  I was certain he knew exactly what he liked.

  But seven o’clock came and went. Under the silver domes, our food was probably getting cold. It had been sitting there for a while, untouched, but even though I was starving, I refrained from eating. Frustration began to bubble up inside of me, overpowering my anticipation and desire. If Stefan arrived and the food was cold, well, that was his fault, wasn’t it? The candles began to burn precariously low, and I felt just as worn down. Where was he?

  I took out my e-reader and figured I’d just dive into some Hungarian if he was running late. But it grew closer to eight and I started to worry. Was this more punishment for the other night in Vienna? It didn’t seem fair—I’d already spent most of the day waiting outside a conference room in one of the most beautiful cities in the world. Wasn’t that enough punishment for my transgression?

  Finally, my phone buzzed. I grabbed for it, only to find a text from Stefan that said exactly the opposite of what I had been hoping for.

  Something’s come up. Go ahead and eat without me. Not sure when I’ll be home.

  Reading his text felt like getting a punch in the gut. I wanted to hurl my phone across the room. Wanted to shove all the food off the table, break all the dishes and make a huge mess.

  Of course, I didn’t. Because I wasn’t that kind of girl. I might have been furious and ready to throttle Stefan, but I wasn’t going to trash our room in an effort to get attention. I sat at the table, watching the candles finally burn out as I decided exactly what I wanted to do.

  I was alone. In Budapest.

  Stefan was out there, doing god knows what, expecting that I would just stay here in the room and wait for him like a good little wife.

  Why was he so sure he could control me this way? I should be out on the town right now. Dancing and partying and having a good time.

  Except I didn’t want to. Not really.

  The only thrill I had gotten from flirting with that stranger in Vienna was when I realized that Stefan was watching me. When I knew that I had made him jealous. That was the first time I felt like I had finally gotten his attention.

  That’s what I needed, maybe all I needed from Stefan. His attention.

  He should know exactly how I felt. That if all he wanted from our marriage was to be two people with separate lives, then that was fine, but he couldn’t treat me like this. Either we were strangers who rarely saw each other but kept up appearances for show, or we had a relationship similar to my father and stepmother’s. One that still required a modicum of respect and consideration on his part.

  I debated texting Grace, but I knew she had no expertise when it came to marriage. On the other hand, she probably had something to say about a man who acted so hot and cold all the time. She’d dated a guy senior year who acted just like that.

  Picking up my phone, I started typing out a text to her, but then deleted it. I tried again, deleted it again. I couldn’t do it. The issue of my virginity had been embarrassing enough, even with her enthusiastic support of it, and I wasn’t confident that spilling my guts to her would actually help me come to a plan of action.

  The idea of spending the duration of our honeymoon locked up in big, empty hotel suites, lavish as they were, was completely unacceptable. But so far I’d let Stefan call all the shots, mostly capitulating to all his demands. Maybe it was time to take a stand.

  Instead of going out and looking for revenge somewhere else (or with someone else). I did exactly the opposite of what he had told me to do in his text. I waited up for hours. Even though the last thing I wanted to do was eat, I picked through our cold dinner, ate some, and left the rest. I refused to let the hotel staff come and clean it up. I stayed right there on the couch in my fancy dress, my hair and makeup still done, refusing to move a muscle until he returned.

  He was going to know exactly how I felt about this situation, and he was going to know tonight.

  I turned on the TV for background noise and dug deep into Hungarian on my e-reader. Technically, it was the following morning when he finally showed up, but I was still furious as hell when he came into the suite after three am.

  He was wearing the same suit he’d been wearing that morning and it looked as annoyingly pristine as it had when he left. In fact, he still looked way too good for someone who had been out all night.

  I hadn’t looked in a mirror, but I wouldn’t have been surprised if my hair was limp against my shoulders and my eyeliner had bled by the time he sauntered into the hotel room.

  I tossed aside my reading, stood up, and lifted my chin.

  “Did you have a good time?” I asked, keeping my voice even.

  “What are you doing up?” he asked. “I told you
not to wait up.”

  He walked right past me, not even sparing me, or my gorgeous dress and sexy heels, a second glance. Somehow, that made me even more furious. I might have been sitting around for the past several hours, my dress might have been wrinkled, my hair might have gone flat, but I still looked pretty fucking good and I’d put in all that effort solely for his benefit.

  “We need to talk,” I told him, following him into the bedroom.

  “I’m tired,” he said, shrugging off his coat. “It can wait.”

  I didn’t want to stare, but I couldn’t help it. Even in just his starched white button up, he was staggeringly attractive. His shoulders broad, his hips narrow, his body perfectly muscled. I forced my eyes away, hating that my attraction to him was waylaying my anger.

  “It can’t wait,” I said, trying to focus as he began unbuttoning his shirt. “There are things we need to discuss.”

  “Not now,” he said, turning his back to me. “I said I’m tired.”

  “Well, I’m not,” I seethed, raising my voice.

  Because I wasn’t tired at all. I was amped up. Exhilarated. Ready for a fight.

  “I’ve been waiting over seven hours for you to come home,” I told him, my voice turning icy. “We had dinner plans.”

  “You had dinner plans,” Stefan corrected me. “And I told you to go ahead without me.”

  “You agreed to those plans before you stepped out on me,” I said. “And this is our honeymoon.”

  He turned to face me, revealing an expanse of his toned, perfect torso. I didn’t want to, but I stared. His chest was just…so unbearably sexy. All that smooth skin, taut over pecs and abs so tight I could have bounced quarters off of them. I wanted to burn a trail of kisses down his chest, follow the trail of dark hair from just below his belly button to where it disappeared into the front his pants.

  My attraction to him—throbbing palpably between my legs and burning me from the inside—just fueled my anger even further. I was furious that he could make me this hot even when I was so pissed off. I wanted him so bad that my body nearly vibrated from the intensity of it all.