Make-Believe Marriage

by CA Quigg

  Staying at the castle was his best option, and the first thing he needed to do was find Quinn and apologize for acting like a self-absorbed shithead.

  Lily sat by the fire in the lobby with her hands on her head and Max by her feet. Ronan wanted to pretend he didn’t see her, but before he was able to creep past her, she lifted her face and stared him down.

  “Can you believe this?” She gestured around the empty foyer.

  He glanced around, baffled. “What?”

  “No one’s coming to work today because of the snow. How backward are these people, this country?”

  The hairs on the back of Ronan’s neck prickled. “Ah, begorrah begosh, sure, ‘tis a fine soft mornin’ out there. Nothin’ but a wee drop o’ snow.”

  “Who are you supposed to be, the fricking Lucky Charms Leprechaun?” She didn’t crack a smile. “I don’t appreciate your flippant attitude.”

  He staggered back and clutched his chest. “Flippant? Me? I’m as serious as they come.”

  Snorting, she snatched up a cast iron poker and plunged it into the fire. “Where’s that fiancée of yours? She needs to fix this. When Ella finds out the airports are closed, someone’s gonna pay, and it ain’t gonna be me. Why she wants a wedding here, I’ll never understand. This is all Quinn’s fault. Filling Ella’s head with fairytales.”

  “C’mon, you can hardly blame Quinn for the weather. It’s not like she has a direct hotline to Mother Nature.”

  “She’s the one who pitched this idea. A Christmas wedding in Ireland blah, blah, blah. What better way to seal your love blah, bullshit, blah.”

  Quinn was doing all she could. A weaker woman would’ve buckled under the strain of having to share her bed with a stranger as well as keep up the pretense of him being her fiancé, never mind her suffocating financial issues.

  “The wedding will be perfect,” he said.

  “And I’m the Queen of Sheba.” Lily pulled her electronic cigarette from inside her blazer. “I need wine.”

  “It’s eight… in the morning.”

  “Midnight in LA. When you find Little Miss Love Struck, remind her we have a FaceTime call in fifteen minutes with Ella and Kai.”

  He didn’t have to look up to know Quinn had entered the lobby. The light scent of her perfume preceded her every step and coiled around his body, squeezing all the air out of his lungs.

  “I haven’t forgotten the call.” She handed a mug of black coffee to Lily.

  Lily took the coffee and leaned back in the chair, crossing her ankles. “Get me a shot of whiskey for it. It’d make this hell hole bearable.”

  “Whiskey later. Work now. Would you like an update?”

  There was a determination in Quinn’s tone, one he hadn’t heard before.

  “Not unless you’re about to tell me the bride and groom will get here for their own wedding.”

  “Like I already pointed out,” Ronan said, coming to Quinn’s defense. “Quinn can’t control the weather.”

  The steely look Quinn shot Ronan all but sliced him in two and told him to keep his mouth shut and nose out. “I guarantee the wedding will happen.”

  “Hmph.” Lily scooped up Max and strutted toward the staircase. “Send Brendan to my room with an inventory of his wine cellar and steak for my dog.”

  “Looks like Max found his new owner.” Ronan laughed as Lily vanished upstairs. Apologies weren’t something he had a lot of experience with, and now he was alone with Quinn, he didn’t know what to say or where to begin. “Quinn, I—”

  “Don’t you ever get involved when I’m discussing a delicate situation with my client.”

  “How can I not get involved? She was out of line.”

  “I mean it.” Irritation tinted her cheeks a pretty shade of pink. “Butt out.”

  “I have years of experience dealing with people like Lily. I want to help.”

  “Sure you do.” Skepticism colored her words, and she crossed her arms, shutting him out.

  “I’m not the bastard you think I am.” Saying sorry to someone who thought he was a narcissist wasn’t going to be easy, but he deserved all of her anger and loathing.

  “Fooled me.”

  “I don’t like how you got this job, but I’m beginning to understand why you lied. I’m sorry. I made a mistake. I’m going to do all I can to help you with no ulterior motive.” He should tell her about Brady. Tell her he knew how this mess of a situation happened. Confess he was a fool who fell for a con man’s lies. But if he did, Quinn would never trust another word he said.

  She glared at him, her eyes narrow and hard. “Are you telling me you won’t say anything to Lily or Ella?”

  “I shouldn’t have treated you the way I did. Blackmail.” He winced. “Isn’t who I am.”

  “Then you can understand why you have to leave and allow me to do my job the way I want.”

  He closed the space between them. “Really? You want me to walk out the door and never see me again.”

  She lifted her face until their lips were a breath apart. “Sounds about right.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  Ronan captured her waist in his hands and tugged her body to his. The scent of her skin drained all coherent thought from his brain, and he crushed his lips to hers. A faint taste of coffee and chocolate coated her lips, and even if he wanted to stop, he didn’t possess the power to walk away from her.

  He couldn’t figure out how she had this effect on him. She was everything he didn’t want. But that didn’t matter, because right now, all that mattered was the feel of her soft curves beneath his hands.

  She arched into him, her breasts nudging against his chest, her body molding to his. What he wouldn’t give to feel her naked skin, feel her body writhe beneath him.

  She streaked her fingers up his back and tunneled them through his hair. Fuck, he wanted to taste, bite, and lick every part of her. It’d been a long time since he’d wanted anyone like this. If ever.

  He skimmed kisses down her jawbone and over her throat, her perfume coating his lips. The fabric of her sweater bunched up, and when he grazed his fingers along the curve of her waist, sparks of electricity shot up his arm, shocking his erratically beating heart.

  Barely suppressing a whimper, she broke away. “I can’t. Not now. I have to do… the things.” Confusion creased her forehead.

  “Things?” Ronan continued to run his fingertips over her waist.

  “Work things.” Blindly, she reached for the back of a chair and held on. “There’s too much to do. I don’t have time for—” she motioned between them, her wide eyes saying what her lips didn’t.

  “Don’t have time for what?” He raised his eyebrows in question.

  “Us. You. Whatever this is.” As if afraid to say more, she rolled her lips between her teeth and held them there.

  He brushed his lips over the shell of her ear, and whispered, “I have a feeling we’ll both have plenty of time for ‘whatever this is’ later.”

  Quinn moved back, and he dropped his hands from her waist. Disappointment seemed to flash across her face, but she quickly blinked it away and with a tilt of her chin, her expression turned devious.

  “Because of the shitty weather, the cleaners can’t make it. You really want to help, then help me clean.”

  “You’re joking? Clean?” When he’d offered help, he meant he’d help manage the contractors and vendors. Help make sure everyone was doing what they were supposed to do. Look at the fine details to make sure she hadn’t overlooked anything.

  “You’re familiar with the concept, right? Mop, bucket, vacuum?”

  “I’m not a cleaner.”

  “You’re not a wedding planner either.”

  “I’ll look at the spreadsheets, the contracts.”

  “I don’t need that kind of help.” The finality in her voice told him now wasn’t the time to push it. “Unless you’re afraid of ruining your manicure
, pretty boy.”

  “Pretty boy?” He scratched the two-day-old scruff on his chin with clipped fingernails. “And here I was going for the rugged look. My team of stylists won’t be happy. I should fire them.”

  “Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit—”

  “But the highest form of intelligence.” He wanted to see her smile again. Wanted to see the way her face lit up, and how the worry line between her eyebrows softened when she relaxed.

  “You keep thinking that.”

  He laughed. “There’s research to prove it.”

  “If Oscar Wilde were alive, I’m sure he’d be thrilled about you quoting him in a drafty castle in Ireland.” She tried to fight the smile tugging at her lips, he could see it on her face, but she couldn’t stop the corners lifting. His stomach all but bottomed out at her happiness. In the space of two days, he’d witnessed her every emotion from anger to embarrassment to elation. All of which he’d been partly responsible for.

  She cast a glance over her shoulder and nodded toward the basement stairs. “The supply closet’s behind the kitchen. Have fun.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Without looking back, he strolled toward the basement stairs. Later on, when they were alone, he’d see what other emotions he could coax from her.

  ****

  With Ronan off gathering cleaning supplies, Quinn touched her fingers to her lips. His kiss. That tongue. Those hands. Yesterday’s kiss had woken her hormones, but today’s kiss had molded those hormones into a lust monster that was now beating at her chest. A shiver of anticipation worked its way around her nerve endings, linking them up until her entire body hummed. Maybe he wasn’t the arrogant jerk he pretended to be, but she didn’t need the kind of help or advice he offered. What if he took over? Or tried to tell her what to do and where he thought she could improve.

  There was no denying, he had many more years of experience in successful event planning than her, but this was her problem to solve. She had to prove to herself she could fix this and that Brady stealing her money and her dignity wasn’t the end of the world. And besides, what if Ronan’s seducing her was part of his plan? Once she fell for him and gave him what he wanted, would it be a case of see ya later, sista?

  Ronan reappeared, laden down with mops, brushes, buckets, and bottles of cleaning solution.

  “Happy now?”

  “If event planning doesn’t work out, you can always start your own cleaning business.” She focused her attention on his lips and held her breath. Would he kiss her again? Do something more than kiss her?

  An aura of self-assurance surrounded him. Everything from the way he walked, to the way he held himself, to the cheeky dimpled smile he gave were all designed to make her kick off her panties. He knew what he wanted, and she hoped he wanted her. All of her.

  He dropped everything to the floor, the crash booming around the foyer, and then toed a bucket filled with supplies her way.

  “Time to get stuck in.”

  She glanced at the bucket and toed it back toward him. “Start on the first floor.”

  “I’m not doing this on my own.”

  “I didn’t say you were. I’m going to strip—”

  “That’s something to look forward to.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Strip the beds. And when I’m done with them, I’m going to scrub, sweep. You need to dust and vacuum everything.”

  “There’re cobwebs over a hundred years old in this place. The spiders have probably mutated into beasts.” Ronan’s face turned as white as the snow outside. It seemed she’d found Goliath’s weakness.

  He grimaced. “What if there’s a nest with thousands of baby spiders waiting to pounce?”

  “Seriously? You’ve read Harry Potter one too many times. I promise you Aragog and his colony of Acromantulas aren’t hiding in the attic waiting to eat you.” She could be nasty and insist he dust the cobwebs and force him to face his phobia, or she could be nice… Relenting, she gave him a smile. “Fine, I’ll dust, but you’re in charge of the toilets.” She shuddered. “I can’t bring myself to clean them.”

  “Too good for it?”

  “You want to try your chances with the cobwebs, Spiderman?”

  He shrugged. “Fair point.”

  The phone in her front pocket vibrated. She knew it was Lily before looking.

  FaceTime call canceled again. Ella at a party. Kill me now. Where’s Brendan with the wine list and dog food?

  Hopefully, Lily would stay in her room all day with Max and her friends Pinot and Noir. Now that Lily was out of the way for a while, Quinn and Ronan would get a lot more achieved. She shot Brendan a text telling him the Queen requested an audience in her chambers.

  Her phone vibrated again. What was it this time? The text wasn’t from Lily. It was from a number she didn’t recognize.

  Miss me, babe? Hope all the wedding plans are falling into place. Keep your eyes open for a wolf dressed like a lamb. B.

  What did he mean by that? Her stomach twisted into a crown of barbed wire. Not now. Please, God. Not now.

  “Everything okay?” Ronan gave her a concerned smile.

  “Fine. Everything’s great. Lily wants wine.”

  More of the other contractors battled the weather and arrived by midday. They'd have to work through the night, but by tomorrow all of the rooms would have heat with fully working bathrooms. Plus, they’d plowed and salted the roads leading up to the castle’s entrance, and if nothing else went wrong, the guests shouldn’t have much more than a few flight delays getting to the castle.

  She shoved Brady to the back of her mind and filed him under later. Worrying about him showing up was a waste of time and wouldn’t achieve anything. She should tell the police, but what could they do? They couldn’t trace him through the text. The phone, like all his phones, was probably a burner. Something he could dispose of when it had served its purpose. Much like he’d disposed of her.

  The rest of the day passed in a cloud of dust and cleaning solution. The room she and Ronan shared was functional enough, but some of the other rooms hadn’t been used since Brendan closed the doors over a decade ago. Oak Castle should have been one of the busiest wedding destinations in Ireland, but the place was as broken as Brendan’s heart—such a shame. Everyone deserved love, and she hoped Brendan would find it again.

  Dusk had fallen by the time Quinn reached the tower room. She stretched out her aching back and yawned. Cleaning all day reminded her why she was allergic to the gym and exercise. Every muscle screamed from fatigue and overwork. A steaming, bubble-filled bath was in her future, and this time, she’d drink a full bottle of wine.

  She heaved open the squeaking door and flicked on a light that cast a dim orange glow around the room. The small space held a twin bed and an overstuffed armchair which sat by a fireplace. Ribbons of cobwebs ticker-taped the blackened hearth and swayed in the chimney draft.

  A tornado of dust motes circled her feet and legs every time she moved. To air the musty room, she opened a small window and inhaled the frosty air. Twisting trees silhouetted against the darkening sky, and the North Star shone beside an iridescent waxing moon.

  Until a few years ago, she wished on the first star she saw in the night sky, but she no longer believed in magic and miracles.

  For the hundredth time, she checked her phone. Brady hadn’t texted again, but that meant nothing. The devious shit was planning something. Something that would cause more headaches.

  If she told Ronan about Brady, would he know what to do? Would he think she was being dramatic, that an ex texting her, even if he was the one who’d ruined her life, was hardly something she needed to worry about?

  Ronan. She sighed. Another man causing her problems. A relationship with him would bring her trouble with a capital T. But, oh, those lips. Their touch had stayed with her all day. A few more kisses from him wouldn’t cause the apocalypse. A few more kisses would make the whole
fake fiancée thing more realistic. After all, they were supposed to be besotted with each other. Sex with Ronan might help her forget Brady and his games for a while.

  “Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair.” Ronan’s deep lilt came from behind, and her heart raced. She glanced over her shoulder to see him leaning against the threshold. Dust stains covered his t-shirt, and his hair was a disheveled mess. He’d never looked hotter.

  Rolled up sleeves exposed the delicious, sinewy muscles of his forearms, and she fought the impulse to run into his arms and beg him to lick every inch of her bare skin.

  “You expecting a handsome prince to rescue you from your tower?”

  Yeah, you. “A girl can dream.”

  Ronan closed the door and sat on the unmade mattress, his blue eyes bright in the lamp-lit room. “You want to talk about what’s going on between us?”

  “A few kisses doesn’t mean anything’s going on between us.” Quinn wanted to say she’d imagined getting down and dirty with him all day, that her lips still tingled and not throwing herself on top of him took more willpower than she thought she could ever possess, but she stayed quiet, and an awkward silence filled the room.

  Ronan cleared his throat and watched her intently. “You can’t deny something’s pulling us together.”

  “It’s not that.” She hesitated for a few seconds before answering. “First… thanks for all of your help today. As for what’s between us. I’m not looking for anything serious. Been there, done that—I don’t want the heartache or the hassle.”

  “There doesn’t have to be any heartache or hassle.” He leaned back on his elbows, opening his body to her. “What’s to stop us from enjoying the rest of the time we’re here? No strings. No commitments or promises of forever.”