by Christa Wick
Studying my tight expression, confusion flashed across his handsome features only to be chased away by a scowl.
“Why do I have the feeling you’re thinking something ridiculous, Pippa?” He pulled me closer, his big, warm hands rubbing up and down the soft flesh of my arms. “I'm saying I need a woman of substance whose very existence exposes Anna as the rejected, scheming fraud she is.”
I tried to put some space between us so I could regain my ability to think, but he was too strong and the press of his body against mine was annihilating any sense of self-preservation I still had in a slow grind. Every last brain cell knew better than to say yes to this crazy plan. But he was deliberately making it impossible for me to access those brain cells fully.
“Stop fighting for a second and listen to me. I’ll protect you from the media fallout and treat you well our entire marriage.” He drew me in close again, pinning my hips to his. “All I need you to do is be by my side as my loving wife until I tell you otherwise. Can you do that? Can you make the world believe you’re in love with me?”
Easily. Because truth be told, I was halfway there.
And the last half hour or so had pushed me even further along.
Right now, every inch of my body ached from being pressed up against him for so long. My nipples were hard points. My panties were wet. And the faint tremble running through my thighs every time he pulled me closer was starting to turn into a flutter of contractions deep inside me I couldn’t stem.
But Blake couldn’t possibly know any of that. He had no clue how I felt about him; I’d made sure to hide it well. So, he had no way of knowing that even if I were able to weather the media fallout that would result from us getting married, there’d be nothing to prevent my own personal fallout from being in a fake marriage with a man I’d genuinely fallen for over the past year.
Those feelings would only grow stronger beneath the veneer of an arrangement requiring us both to play our parts. Even now, all this physical intimacy with him as he tried to persuade me was hitting me right in the heart.
All that aside, he was right though. This was a deal I’d be getting the lion’s share out of. A deal I’d be an idiot not to take. Sure, most everyone I knew would be shocked as all hell, and likely literally everyone I didn’t know would be outraged at his choice. I’d probably even get a few death threats from the crazies out there. But it would save my employees, and it would help out a man willing to turn his entire world upside down to help me out of a jam.
As I got closer and closer to my final answer, out in the open bay of desks, a phone rang. The reality wasn’t lost on me that if I passed up Blake’s offer, those very phones wouldn’t be on much longer. The lights would be the next to go, not that it would matter since there would be no one out there to need the electricity running.
Apparently reading my mind, he brushed his cheek against mine, whispering in my ear. “You say you know me; well, I know you, too, Pippa. Those people out there are more than just your employees. They’re your friends. Some are like family.”
I nodded. I’d known my core team for what seemed like forever. College, starter jobs in the smaller NY agencies, the first lean months of eighty-hour weeks just to keep the rent paid and the computers running. We’d been through a lot and they had all busted their asses to help the firm succeed, to help me succeed.
Blake rested his temple against mine. “This arrangement will help them, help you, and help me. It’s a good deal, a smart deal. Just say yes, baby.”
Baby? He just went from sweetening the deal to plain pulling out all the stops.
I hesitated for another long second, heart racing as I told myself I’d be doing it for them—my employees—and also for him. And of course for me as well, strictly on a business level, not a personal level.
Definitely not that.
Definitely not for all the moments that would come where he’d be holding me just like this. Moments I’d be left holding as mere memories when our arrangement eventually ended.
Could I really, truly handle that?
Finally, I looked up at him and gave him a small, but resolute nod.
“That’s my girl.”
THREE
- Pippa -
Blake exhaled as if he’d been holding his breath throughout that entire negotiation. But then a second later, a whole new kind of determination entered his expression. “Now that that’s settled, we need to discuss the logistics that’ll go along with you becoming my wife.”
His wife.
I wasn’t sure I’d ever get used to hearing him say that.
His hand drifted to the center of my back as his eyes locked in on mine. “First and foremost, it has to look real, P.J. All the time, even when it seems like we are alone.”
The apprehension that had been slowly ebbing slammed back into me full force. I leaned my head back to look up at him. “All the time?”
“Anna will try to get people to sell us out—your staff, mine. We should expect eyes on us at all times. Hidden cameras and microphones, the whole nine yards. Meaning you can't ever shy away when I touch you in public.”
“Okay…”
“You and I both know the only way we can ensure that is if I touch you extensively, and constantly, in private, too.”
I had half a second to see him draw his bottom lip in before his lips brushed against mine.
Our first kiss as a pseudo-engaged couple.
My knees nearly buckled under me.
His fingers speared through my hair as he tilted my head back. “See what I mean? For this to work, you can’t act like we don’t do this all the time.”
Without warning, he kissed me again, deeper this time, his tongue sliding against my lower lip as he drew it into his mouth, scored it with his teeth gently before giving it back.
It took a small miracle, but I managed to stay upright.
“Perfect,” he murmured, his voice deeper, smokier than I’d ever heard it. “That’s exactly why we need to do this all the time, Pippa. In my home, the car, the office. Public and private displays of affection. Twenty-four seven.”
While I’d often tasked my clients with strict regiments that similarly spanned every hour of every day, I wasn’t used to being on this side of the PR campaign, having to essentially perform for an audience the entire time.
I had to hand it to Blake, he was holding nothing back in playing his part—right down to the long, thick erection he was pressing against my stomach. I looked down at the hard line of his cock straining against his pants, and asked the next thing that popped into my head.
“We won’t h-have to...um...”
I couldn’t believe I was stuttering like some virgin schoolgirl.
His eyes heated instantly. “We'll discuss that more in detail before you sign the prenup and I release the funds. But the short answer? Yes. Hell, yes.” His free hand roamed my body, caressing my hips, squeezing an arm before stopping at last to curve under my breast, cupping the swollen flesh as his thumb and index finger tested the hardness of my nipple.
How many times had I fantasized about this very thing? Blake Cross in my office, feeling me up with the blinds closed.
“Are you sure we have to take it that far?” I asked, clinging to my sanity by pushing out logical words like a lifeline.
His tongue swept into my mouth once more in response. The hand on my breast grew more demanding, kneading and twisting as the kiss deepened. I closed my eyes, my legs giving out as he took one straining nipple between his finger and thumb and pinched. The room spun, first in my head, then in reality as he lifted me up in the air like I weighed nothing at all.
Clearly, his muscled abs, thick biceps, and sculpted thighs, weren’t just for show. I’d never felt so little, so dainty. As his mouth continued to devour mine as he held me, images of being laid out on my desk, his cock spearing into me, filled my head. But instead, he carried me toward my office door. Lowering me to my feet, he braced my back flush against the glass wall.
His lips teased the sensitive skin along the underside of my chin as he answered simply, “I know. I want them to.”
I frowned, tried like hell to keep my brain functioning as his mouth dropped to my neck. “What do you mean?”
Blake gazed down at me intently, his broad chest pinning me against the window as he cupped my face. “It begins now. We need to start selling the fact that we're a couple—that we have been for months.”
It. As in the charade. Right. For a minute there, I’d forgotten.
He glanced down at his watch. “First a small show for your staff, then reservations at Robuchon's for seven. I'll pick you up at six—”
“Robuchon's?” I mentally inventoried my closet, trying to remember what was back from the dry cleaners—what the future fiancée of Blake Cross would wear in a typical outing.
I wasn’t sure I owned anything that fit the bill.
“Don't worry about clothes. I'm sending something over to your brownstone.” He ran his hands over my full hips, a sexy grin flashing across his face. “Size sixteen, right?” His hands skimmed up the sides of my waist next to cup my breasts and give them a gentle squeeze before his mouth crushed mine. Leaving me breathless, he broke the kiss to guess with impressive accuracy, “And thirty-six B.”
Feeling the heat rise up on my cheeks, I pushed his hands away. “You know, you probably wouldn’t have needed to hire me a year ago if you didn't possess that skill.” Calling him one of the most notorious playboys in the country back then would’ve been an understatement.
The grin re-surfaced even as his expression took on a thoughtful air. “Well then I’m doubly glad for it.”
I blinked up at him, startled.
He recaptured my left hand. “Speaking of sizes, I’m almost positive I have your ring size correct. I'll be bringing a ring tonight, a family heirloom of sorts. When this is done...”
He tilted his head at me, gray eyes glittering, and I nodded, finishing for him, “No worries, I understand. The ring will stay with you and your family.”
Blake lifted his chin, his gaze hooded as he stared down at me a long second. “Yes. You took the words right out of my mouth. You’ll forgive me for including that exact stipulation in the verbiage of our contract.”
I shrugged, not expecting anything less. With the man’s assets, I’d be surprised if his lawyers didn’t include a fifty-page appendix of similar stipulations. “Of course.”
Opening the blinds fully then, he lightly pinched the tip of my chin before planting a slow kiss on my mouth. There wasn't the same heat as a few minutes before, but it would be clear that it wasn’t business Blake and I had just been discussing with the blinds shut. At least to anyone looking into my office at the moment.
And everyone was looking into my office at the moment.
A minute later, he left, and right on cue, the growing whispers among my staff began buzzing the second the elevator doors closed behind him.
Suddenly, I felt the brush of knuckles against my elbow. Breaking my gaze away from the elevator, I turned and saw Kevin, my dearest friend and second in command at the agency, now standing in my office with me. We'd grown up in the PR business together, starting a year apart at our old firm. When I first opened my own agency, he dropped everything to follow me over with nothing more than the promise of long hours and too-little starting pay.
He was the closest thing I had to the family I’d always wanted—the first person I’d thought about when I began worrying about handing out pink slips to my staff.
Pulling me backward a few steps, Kevin practically tackled me as soon as he closed the door to give us some privacy. “Blake Cross?! Holy crap, woman. At least we know why you've been hiding the last few weeks.” Shooing me across the room, away from the door and any possible eavesdroppers, he demanded, “All the details, this instant. And feel free to start with the juicy bits. Don’t leave anything out.”
“Really, Kevin? Shall I make some popcorn for you while I’m at it?” I asked as I walked around the desk on shaky legs and settled into my chair.
“You joke but you and I both know this is going to be the biggest love story to hit social media in years. Now spill. Tell me everything.”
I began spinning the details of my relationship with Blake over the past year, which, surprisingly, didn’t take too much fabrication because we had in fact spent a lot of time together. All the while, mentally, I just kept replaying the “proposal.”
It all felt so surreal. Like an imaginative illusion and an impossible dream combined. But one that I was absolutely, positively walking into with my eyes wide open.
Unfortunately, I feared the same could be said about my heart.
FOUR
- Pippa -
I went home early from work, not long after Blake left my office; it was either that or answer a million questions I wasn’t prepared to face.
Before I knew it, it was five p.m. and I was answering my ringing doorbell with a robe around me, my hair still dripping water from the overly long shower I took.
A delivery man from a plus-size boutique I recognized stood at the threshold, a box almost as tall as me tucked under his arm. “Where would you like this?”
I pointed down the hall to my bedroom. He delivered it to the room and then waved me off when I tried to tip him. “Already taken care of, miss.”
With that, he bid me a good evening and went on his way. I waited until the sound of his footsteps disappeared before I locked the door and raced into the bedroom.
I approached the box, unsure of what I’d find inside. Not only was the store wildly expensive, but its management also seemed to live by the motto of “flaunt it if you got it.”
A flaunter, I was not. I had great hair, yes. Near flawless skin, ditto. But I was no Christina Hendricks or Charlotte Coyle. I didn't have their cleavage, for starters.
Heart hammering in my chest, I lifted the box’s lid. My eyes about popped out of my head. A dark silver-sequined tube dress with a hem length that would just make it to the top of my knees was encased in a pewter-colored wrap of brushed silk that would fall to my ankles, except for the high split up the front left side where the waist knotted.
The tube’s bodice had a boned inset that would push my smaller breasts up to an attention-grabbing height, while the plunging neckline of the wrap would do nothing to hide them. Pewter see-through panties in a fabric that looked like expensive metallic mesh were tucked among the folds of the dress. Silver chain sandals and a silver clutch were nestled at the bottom of the box.
The outfit was gorgeous—in the box. On me, I had the uneasy worry I’d look a bit like I was dressing up in drag.
Not ready to try on the dress yet, I picked up the slim purse to see what was inside of it because clearly something was.
It was a jewelry box. A rather large one. When I opened it, I saw a spinel-beaded platinum necklace, matching earrings and a bracelet.
Stunned, I took a step back.
The dress boutique was at the far side of the city, while the elite jeweler’s shop—which required an appointment to even step foot in the door—was clear on the opposite end.
Blake couldn’t have had time to select both of these gifts and get the delivery service to pick both items up and still have them to me here in time. Not with the construction-riddled traffic in both directions.
That could only mean the bounty in front of me wasn’t arranged after I’d said yes.
He’d planned for it all beforehand.
I didn’t know whether I should be annoyed that he’d been so certain I’d say yes or secretly thrilled he’d gone through all this trouble.
The warm flush heating my body had me leaning toward thrilled, but I knew better than to get carried away. He wasn’t the first man to lavish me with romantic plans and doting attention, only to change their mind and drop me like a bad habit after my heart got involved.
“What I want isn't part of this particular equation.”
Those had been his exact words. They'd stung at the time—still did. But maybe it was a good thing. With the men who’d taught me the harsh lessons in heartache before, there’d been no secret business deal laid into the foundation of those relationships. Knowing from the start that this was an arrangement catering to the needs of our work lives was key here. To insulate my heart.
Because if I didn’t, it wasn’t just heartache I’d be looking at with Blake.
But rather, total heartbreak.
This is just a business deal. You can do this.
Returning to the bathroom, I dried my hair and put on a fresh layer of makeup. I must have dropped every brush twice and the tube of lipstick almost landed in the toilet. I was struggling to get the necklace on when the doorbell rang again.
I glanced at the clock. It was exactly six. Carrying the clutch and jewelry with me, I answered the door. Blake stood on my front step, resplendent in a black dinner jacket as his appraising gaze swept over me. Beyond him, taking up two spaces at the curb, was a limo. An actual limo.
Blake stepped inside, taking the jewelry from me as he dipped his head, his lips gracing mine with a soft, fleeting kiss. Reaching behind him, he shut the door. “You look stunning, Pippa.”
I arched a brow in his direction. “In an outfit that costs as much as a car—who wouldn’t?”
“Baby,” he shook his head, “that’s not how this works.” Taking my hand, he fastened the bracelet then moved around me. I’d left my hair loose and straight; he slid the strands off of my shoulders and then lifted the necklace over my head, stepping in close as he fastened it around my neck. “When I comment on how stunning you look, which I’ll inevitably be doing often, you smile at me and melt like I mean it.”
