by Tasha Fawkes
My first mistake was asking her in the first place. But then to sleep with her before she knew the whole truth? That was silly, especially since the only thing driving that was my emotions. It had nothing to do with getting her pregnant or I wouldn’t have bothered with a condom.
I hear her leave the bathroom, so I down the rest of my drink and stalk out. I don’t feel like going out or having company, but I know I need to make the effort and pretend that everything is fine.
As I walk into the living room, she’s standing there, her back to me. I slow to a stop and just watch her for a moment, taken aback at how breathtaking she looks. She slowly turns around, smiling when she sees me. My heart swells, because the view from the front is even better. Any hope I had of not making this about me wanting to be with her has just gone flying out the window.
“Are you ready?” I ask. I don’t comment on how stunning she is because I don’t want to make her feel uncomfortable, but I swear I saw a glint of disappointment in her eyes.
“Ready,” she smiles.
I take her to one of my favorite restaurants. It's not well known or famous, or really anything flashy at all. It's just a small Italian restaurant that makes good, honest food, and one of my favorite places to go. She glances around the small place as we walk in.
“What?” I say, noticing her expression.
“Nothing,” she shrugs. “I just never pictured you in a place like this, I guess.”
“A place like this?” I repeat, smirking. “Care to elaborate? Maybe I'll call my old friend Tony out from the kitchen so you can explain to him what you mean by that?”
“No,” she says, blushing. I chuckle, enjoying teasing her. “I just meant that you took me somewhere so fancy the other night. That's the kind of place where I imagine you.”
“I’m here more than I am anywhere else,” I admit to her. “Sometimes I just want to get away from all the bullshit. Here, nobody cares about me. I bring my work in and I just sit here and eat without interruption. I can think or do whatever I need to, without worrying about anyone.” I shrug.
“I can understand that,” she says. “I mean, nobody is hounding me for my attention, but I know what it’s like to want five minutes to yourself when nobody will give it to you.” I frown, not sure if that comment was directed at me or not. She flushes when she realizes how it sounded. “I wasn’t referring to you, by the way,” she adds.
I believe her, but our easy, flowing conversation is quickly replaced by an awkward silence. Neither of us knows what to say, because we’re both thinking about the other night. My pants begin to constrict so I slouch forward and focus on staring intently at the table.
As the evening passes, things get no better. We were off to such a promising start, but now, I’m beginning to regret bringing her here at all. This feels worse than when she was avoiding me, because at least then I could avoid it.
“So only eleven months to go, hey,” she says, trying to make light of it.
I glance at her and wonder if she’s thinking the same thing I am, because I’m beginning to doubt that we can get through this, even without crossing the boundary again. I don’t see how we can be together but not be together.
After we finish eating, we leave as quickly as possible, neither of us keen to stay in the other’s company any longer than we have to. The drive home is quiet, with her not saying much and me not forcing it. I’m not sure that this evening out actually achieved anything other than making things worse. I feel like we’re going backward, if anything.
The moment we’re inside, she mumbles goodnight and then disappears into her bedroom. I watch her walk away, trying to figure out what my next move is. Do I talk to her or just leave it and hope things sort themselves out? We’re not going to last long like this. Whatever happens, we need to sit down and work this out. If we continue, there is still the small matter of me needing to impregnate her. I can’t do that if she won’t let me near her.
Sunday morning, I wake up early, determined to cook her breakfast as a peace offering, so we can talk. As I walk down the hallway, I notice her bedroom door is open. I peer inside, but she’s not in there. In fact, she’s not anywhere in the apartment. I frown and glance at my watch. The idea of not knowing where she is or who she’s with is making me feel sick.
What’s wrong with me?
Besides the fact that it’s nine in the fucking morning—meaning she’s probably just having breakfast with Margie or something equally as innocent—I have no claim over her. Did I expect her to sit at home and see nobody during our twelve months of marriage?
Well, yes, but that doesn’t make it fair.
I don’t bother with breakfast at all; instead, I have a strong coffee and head into work. I can’t remember the last Sunday I went to the office. Not that I'm getting much done, because I'm finding myself too distracted.
At least it gets me out of the house and away from waiting for her to come home. I could get nothing done today, and it would still be better than waiting there. I’m like a jealous boyfriend. This kind of negative thinking is the last thing I need right now.
I stare at the pile of papers in front of me, none of it making any sense. Just when I'm about to give up, someone knocks on my door. I frown, because no one knows I'm here. I never go to the office on the weekend.
Could it be her?
“Come in,” I finally say.
I watch the door with anticipation. My cock is already hardening at the thought of bending her over my desk, so naturally, I’m disappointed when Rex walks in. I scowl at him, even more annoyed to see him than usual because I’m confident he’s just assured I’m never going to get it up again.
“What do you want?” I growl.
“That's a lovely way to greet your little brother,” Rex says, sauntering over to my desk.
He leans over the desk, with his palms resting face down on the surface, like he’s trying to intimidate me. I nearly laugh at the thought, because Rex would struggle to intimidate a fly.
“If I were ever actually happy to see you, I’d be sure to let you know,” I mutter. “What do you want, Rex? And for god’s sake, sit down. You think you’re achieving anything, standing over me like that? All you’re doing is pissing me off.”
He sits down and glares at me. He looks so crushed that I almost feel sorry for him.
“I want to know what's going on,” he demands.
“What do you mean?” I ask, genuinely with no idea what he’s talking about.
“Charlene,” he barks. “Something doesn't sit right with me. I think you're holding back, or there is something that you're not telling us.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. You’re imagining things. Maybe you should lay off the hallucinogenic drugs for a while, hey Rex?” I tease. He flushes and gets to his feet, extending far enough forward so that he’s in my face.
“Stop fucking talking to me like you’re better than me, Matt. You don't know who you're messing with,” he mutters, his face darkening. “There are a lot of people depending on you freeing that inheritance. Either you get this done, or—” He stops and shakes his head, smiling almost to himself. “Well, if you don’t, you’ll figure out what will happen soon enough.”
He stalks out of my office, leaving me wondering what the hell he’s talking about. I push it out of my mind, because I don’t have the time to worry about Rex and his bullshit at the moment.
I have to sort out this thing with Charlene before I do anything else.
She’s still out when I get home, despite the whole day nearly passing. Jealously surges through me, both its force and intensity unexpected. Again with this irrational hold over her? I’m annoyed at myself, because I can’t stop thinking about where she is and who she might be with.
God, I'm driving myself crazy.
Three hours of pacing the living room, staring at the clock, and glancing at my phone and I'm ready to kill someone. I’m even more on edge than last night, and I don’t know why. The
rage that is pent up inside me is so foreign and so different to anything I’ve ever felt, it scares me. It’s not even all about Charlene. It’s about everything. My grandfather, my brothers. My mother. But this thing with Charlene certainly isn’t helping.
Why do I care if she's out, especially when there's a good chance she's just out with Margie? She’s free to go where she likes and do whatever she pleases. I didn’t buy the rights to her entire life for a year. So why do I care so much?
Because this is more than just a fake marriage to you.
There is so much more at stake than what she thinks, and every time I think about that I’m suffocated with guilt. It’s like I’m just beginning to realize how serious things are and how likely it is that everything is going to backfire on me. Not telling her she has to have my kid as part of my grandfather’s stipulations? Fuck, what was I thinking?
Of course she would’ve said no. Any sane woman would have. A few weeks were never going to change such an important decision. It’s not like I was asking her to bake a cake. It’s a child. I shake my head and laugh at how foolish I’ve been. What was my plan, tie her to the bed and force myself on her? No. I should have told her the truth from the beginning. She would have shot me down, and then I would have moved on, keeping my original commitment to Shannon, and everything would have worked out fine.
I hear the click of the front door as it opens, and my body tenses. It’s a little hard to pretend that I’m not sitting here waiting for her, considering it’s dark and I’m just staring at the wall, so I decide not to bother with the games. I turn my head to watch her as she walks in.
It’s like de javu, only tonight she’s dressed in a very revealing, short black dress. One that I brought for her. I’m trying hard to remain calm, but seeing that sexy walk and those long, tanned legs is pushing me to the breaking point. Who is she dressing like that for? She wouldn’t have gone to that much trouble for just Margie.
I get to my feet and slowly walk over to her. She jumps as I appear out of the darkness, her eyes wide.
“Jesus, you scared me,” she gasps. “You’re sitting there again?”
“Did you have a good night?” I ask her. She softly pants as she tries to catch her breath. Just like she did the night I fucked her.
“Yes. I just went out for drinks with some of the girls from work—”
“It’s Sunday,” I point out.
“And we arranged it on Friday,” she frowns.
“It’s fine,” I say with a shrug. I’m pretending that I don't care, when all I can do is imagine the men must've been staring at her, wishing they could take her home and do all of the things I want to do to her.
“I wasn’t asking you if it was okay,” she says, an irritated edge to her voice. “Do you have a problem with me going out without you? It’s not like I was out on a date. I didn’t think you’d a have a problem with me going out with some friends.” She pauses. “I thought we worked this out last night, Matt.”
“Did we?” I say. “We had an awkward dinner that didn’t really resolve anything.” I sigh. “Besides, I don’t care what you do,” I say with a little too much force. I stalk over to the kitchen and pour myself a glass of water, forcing it down. I'm so on edge about everything. “I'm just…” I shake my head, my hands pressing against the counter. “Just leave it, please? Just go to bed or whatever it is that you're going to do now.”
She reaches out and touches my arm. I shrug her off, my body tensing. I’m not sure how much longer I can look at her in that dress without doing something I’ll probably end up regretting.
“Just go,” I mutter again. But she doesn’t. Instead, she pushes herself into the space between me and the counter. She stares up at me, her eyes searching mine. I can smell alcohol on her breath, and I find myself wondering how much she’s had to drink.
Enough that I could seduce her and finish the job I need to do?
“What’s wrong with you?” she asks. “I know I said what happened was a mistake, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t feel anything. The whole reason I regret it is because it did mean something.” She shakes her head, confused. “I thought you agreed that we should keep our distance. What happened?”
“The only thing that has happened is you,” I growl.
I lean down and push my lips against hers. She gasps, but doesn't fight me, pressing her mouth against mine. I lift her onto the counter, my hands exploring her body as she moans. I practically tear the dress from her body, leaving her exposed and all mine. My hands stroke her back as I fumble to open her bra. I thread it from her arms and toss it onto the floor as my hands massage her breasts.
She gasps as I kiss her neck, my tongue exploring her as I lay her back on the counter and spread her legs. My mouth finds her pussy and she cries out, her back arching as I thrust my tongue inside her. I can't get enough. It's like I’m punishing her for having this effect on me, only this is no punishment. Far from it.
I lift her into my arms, still kissing her as I carry her down to my bedroom.
Throwing her roughly down on the bed, I position myself on top of her, nudging her legs further apart to give me access to her pussy. She groans as I roll my fingers down over her body while my mouth presses against hers. I'm so hard, and there is nothing I want more than to slide myself inside her. I’m aching to feel her pussy contract around my cock. Just the thought of it has me throbbing.
I reach into my pants and pull out a condom. As I rip it open, I stare at her, lying beneath me, ready and waiting. I could do it now. My heart races as the thought fills my head, taking me by surprise. If the timing is right, then five minutes and this could all be over...
My hands shaking, I drop the condom on the bed and place myself at her entrance. If she realizes I’m riding bare, she doesn’t say anything. Instead, she gasps and locks her legs around me, her eyes willing me to enter her. I look down at her and frown. This isn’t right. Seeing how much she wants me, seeing the need in her eyes, not to mention the trust, it breaks me. I can't do it. Not when she doesn't know the truth.
Cursing, I force myself off the bed. I turn back to her, frowning as she cowers on the bed like she’s scared of me. I kick the wall on the way out the door. She jumps and calls out after me, but I don’t stop. If I stay here, I’ll tell her everything and that might be the worst decision I ever make.
How can I even think about doing this to her?
How can I claim to be developing feelings for her and be willing to treat her like this? I should never have asked her to do this in the first place. I should've stuck to my guns and just gone with Shannon. That would've been a whole lot easier. We would’ve both known from the start where we stood with each other, and there would’ve been no need to lie about the baby, or anything else. There would be no feelings involved, just a clear and simple business arrangement and an exchange of cash.
Instead, I’ve found myself entangled in a mess that I’m not sure how to break free of.
Or if I even can.
Fifteen
Charlene
Once I've recovered from the initial shock of whatever the hell that was, I get up and grab my robe from my room and throw it on. I wrap it tightly around my waist as I race down to the living room to confront him. I have no idea what caused that reaction, but I’m going to find out.
It's quiet when I get down there. Too quiet. I glance around and call out to him, but only silence greets me. It's about then that I realize that he’s gone.
My confusion is replaced with anger. How can he just leave after that? What am I supposed to think? We’re supposed to be trying to figure out a way to get through the next eleven months. I knew that sleeping together again—even though we didn't get that far, wasn't going to help the situation at all, but we both wanted it. At least, I thought we both did.
I walk back down to the bedroom to get my phone. My hands shake as I dial his number. I don't expect him to answer, so when he doesn't, I'm not surprised. I sit down on the bed and frown. Wha
t do I do now? I text him, asking him to call me, and then lay back and stare at the ceiling.
Life felt so much easier a few weeks ago. Sure, I had people chasing me for money, but at least they were clear about what they wanted from me. With Matt, one moment it’s something, and the next it’s something else. I know I’ve been just as indecisive, but that’s only because I don’t want to end up getting hurt.
I close my eyes, just wishing he’d just call me back. When my phone hasn’t rung after ten minutes, I call Margie. She’ll know what to do. As I wait, I can feel the emotion building up inside me, and by the time she answers, I’m struggling not to cry.
“What's wrong?” she asks immediately, sensing in my voice that something isn’t right.
“It's Matt,” I say.
I sigh, not sure what to tell her. I feel silly for even calling her in the first place. What’s she going to do? Nothing. I should have just figured this out on my own. I feel like all I ever do is call her when I’m in trouble, but who else can I turn to?
“It’s nothing. Just forget I called,” I mumble, rubbing my forehead.
“Are you serious?” Margie squeaks. “What do you mean forget about it? You sound like you’re about to burst into tears, and you won’t tell me what happened. Of course I’m not going to forget about it. My mind is going to go to the worst possible scenarios. Seriously, Charlene, if you hang up on me, I’ll kill you.”
I burst into tears. The last thing I need is her angry at me too.
“Charlene, where are you? Home? Text me the address and I’ll be right over. I’m not taking no for an answer, okay?” she says.
“Fine,” I mutter, secretly thrilled she’s coming over.
I hang up and text her the address and then crawl back under the covers. I’m going over it in my head, from the moment he kissed me to the moment he stormed out. When he lifted me onto the counter, he was aggressive but just in a way that showed me how much he wanted me. But when he carried me down to the bedroom, I could feel his frustration.
