by Nadia Lee
“I can’t wear this!” I call out.
“What’s wrong?” Josephine’s tone says she doesn’t believe she’s mistaken about the outfit. “Let me see.”
“Give me a different dress!”
“Not until I see what’s wrong with that one.”
She isn’t going to budge until I do as she asks. I roll my eyes, then finally walk out of the dressing room.
At the sight of me, she claps. “Oh my gosh, it’s perfect!”
“It’s so…slutty.”
“No, it’s not. It’s called a tease. All he’s going to think about is ripping that dress off you so he can see you without the veil. It’s perfect.”
“But—”
“You’re going to be seen with one of the country’s most eligible bachelors. Don’t be a prude. You can’t show up in a potato sack.” Josephine clasps a delicate tennis bracelet around my wrist. “Karen, send everything I picked out to Elliot’s place along with an invoice.” She pauses. “Actually, check with Elliot about where they should be delivered, but the invoice should go to him.”
“Of course,” Karen says.
“And take this.” Josephine opens a black purse and dumps my phone and wallet in it. “Ditch your old bag.”
“But—”
“Elliot’s going to be here in three minutes.”
“What?”
“It’s already five. The traffic’s going to be horrendous to the restaurant.”
“But—”
“No more buts. You look fantastic. Curse me if you like, but I won’t hear of how you can’t wear this.” Her phone buzzes. “That’s Elliot. He just pulled in. Now go wow him.”
* * *
Elliot
After I text Josephine, I lean back against the side of the Mercedes and wait. Maybe I should’ve picked someone else. As great as she is, she can be a bit heavy-handed, and the woman has a limitless reserve of energy when it comes to shopping, or so I heard Paige complain when she thought nobody was listening. But at the same time I’m not certain that she would’ve done as I asked without someone like Josephine to force her.
Gigi, I tell myself, my eyes closed. Gigi. Her name is Gigi.
It pisses her off that I won’t call her by her real name, but she’ll just have to deal. It isn’t my fault her name is Annabelle.
I considered staying away specifically for that reason, but I couldn’t let go. It’s the way she looks every time I see her. That defiant little tilt of her chin…and the sound she made when I kissed her, like she couldn’t believe she wanted me but then expected the need to dissipate in any moment. Doesn’t she know that chemistry like we have doesn’t just dissipate?
She’s obviously inexperienced…or maybe her ex-boyfriends were simply worthless.
Ideally both. I want to wreck her, utterly ruin her in the year we have together. Then maybe finally I can flush all the old and ugly shit I’m carrying out of my system.
Chapter Fifteen
Annabelle
Elliot is waiting for me, standing by the passenger door. His gaze is hidden behind a pair of sunglasses, but I can feel his head-to-toe perusal. The breeze rustles my dress, the fabric rubbing against my nipples. They pucker, and a sharp sensation dashes through my body. I clench my legs. It’s the wind, really…nothing to do with the weight of his eyes roaming over my body.
Still, heat follows, and I flush. I should’ve asked Josephine for some sunglasses of my own when I had the chance. It seems unfair he can look in secret, while I can’t.
His mouth parts, and the tip of his tongue wets his lips. Shades or no, there’s a hunger in the man. And my body inexplicably responds to that need with my own. It pulses through my veins until I have to open my mouth to breathe.
Wordlessly, he opens the door to the Mercedes, and I climb inside. The edge of his hand brushes my bare shoulder; goosebumps rise, and I almost falter.
When he’s inside, I cross my arms over my chest. “How many cars do you own?”
“Enough to get me where I need to go,” he says.
I snort at the non-answer. “Do you have a yacht and private jet, too?”
“No yacht, but the jet is affirmative.” In some men the statement might have come off as bragging, but his tone is so bland he could be talking about what to pack for a business trip.
“Where are we going?”
“A restaurant.”
I scowl. “Are you always this helpful when you answer?”
“Yes.”
Argh. Why am I bothering with conversation? Hasn’t he made it clear over and over again that he’s doing this specifically for sex? I just happen to have a body that he wants for a year. Why would he treat me like a real person?
I pull out my phone to text Nonny. She isn’t a baby, like he said, but she is my little sister and my responsibility. I need to make sure she’s okay.
Before I can start typing my message, I frown at a text from my bank. An additional thousand dollars has landed in my account.
My hand tightens. That’s Mr. Grayson’s automatic monthly deposit.
Does he know that I’m about to marry? He hasn’t contacted me since he told me to snag Elliot. I have no idea if he’s still serious about it, or if he knows I’m about to marry Elliot for money.
Lots of money.
God. My head is a mess. Not a pretty place. I need some time and space to regroup and think, but it’s hard when I’m constantly worried about money and strung tight with need pulsing between my legs.
Elliot maneuvers the car into the traffic and hands me a manila envelope. “From the lawyer.”
“I thought it was going to my place.”
“It’s my copy plus another one for you.”
Curious, I pull out the papers. Four sheets, two per set. Craig wasn’t kidding about it being short and sweet. Everything’s clearly written out, black and white, and ridiculously stark. Laid out like this, what Elliot and I are doing is so obvious—a year of sex in exchange for him providing for me and my sister financially, plus the façade of marriage in exchange for a million-dollar settlement. It’s a simple transaction, and the lawyer’s clever wording makes it sound totally legit. It reminds me of the way Dad used to dupe people with fancy but plausible sounding talk.
Stop thinking about Dad. I have to focus on the present, and what this deal from Elliot means. Women stay with men for far less than what he’s giving.
Yet somehow the arrangement leaves a deep void in my heart. I can’t even say it’s because he’s treating me like a whore, because he isn’t. If that were the case, he would’ve never proposed marriage.
“This is fine,” I say. “I’ll sign it.”
“You should get a lawyer to review it,” he says. “Just to make sure you’re one hundred percent comfortable with everything.”
“It’s very clear.”
“You won’t have second thoughts?”
“In a year? Hardly enough time for second thoughts.”
The muscles in his jaw flex, but he doesn’t say anything. Nor does he look at me. His gaze is focused on the congested road ahead of us.
I pull out a pen from my purse and scrawl my name on the paper, then put the agreement back into the envelope. “There.”
His shoulders sag almost imperceptibly. “We’ll marry tomorrow. You’re free I presume.”
“I haven’t turned in my notice,” I say.
“Why not?”
“Needed to make sure you weren’t just jerking me around.”
A beat of silence. Cars start to inch around us, and we move forward.
“Do people do that a lot?” he asks.
“What?”
“Jerk you around.”
“No.” But fate does. The stuff that’s happened to me… I don’t even want to think about it. It’s easier to pretend none of it ever occurred and try to minimize the effect on Nonny as much as I can.
He reaches into a pocket and pulls out a small velvet box. “Here. This should do for the engagemen
t ring.”
It’s probably the most unceremonious proposal ever, but I prefer it over some faux romantic gesture. We know what we’re doing. A perfunctory solitaire diamond ring should be fi—
I open the box and gasp. The Asscher-cut diamond is huge. If it were any bigger, it would look positively vulgar. “This… It isn’t real, is it?” I ask, dumbfounded. I can’t imagine how much it must have cost.
He snorts. “Of course it’s real. A little over six carats, I think.”
Of course it’s real. Like a six-carat diamond is nothing. “Look… I can’t accept this.”
“Why not? Too small? The cut not to your liking?”
“No, it’s too big! I can’t wear something like this. What if I lose it?”
“Eh, shit happens. Don’t worry so much, just put it on. It’s what’s expected as my fiancée.” When I don’t move, he takes my nerveless hand into his and slides the ring on my finger. “See? A perfect fit.”
Once it’s on, I can’t help but admire the gorgeous inner fire, the beautifully simple platinum band that showcases the stone. It’s crazy—I’m wearing a ring that cost more than everything I own. And it also makes me apprehensive. What exactly is expected here? It can’t be just sex, can it? For what he’s paid for the ring alone, Elliot could have all the hookers he wants.
Finally, a little after six thirty, we reach a restaurant. La Mer, the sign reads. The clever landscaping and lights around the entrance make the bushes and flowers look like exotic coral and marine life. The maître d’ greets us in a crisp suit.
“Good evening, Mr. Reed.” He smiles at me. “Miss.”
“Good evening,” I murmur.
“Your party is waiting for you.”
I look at Elliot. He hasn’t said a word about other people. I assumed it would be just the two of us.
A lithe blonde in a conservative black dress takes us to the back. The interior of the restaurant is one huge aquarium maze. Dazzlingly colored tropical fish swim around in blue-black water, appearing and disappearing. Some inoffensive classical piano music drifts from the sound system, providing a background for the conversational buzz around us…but not loud enough to drown out the clinking of heavy and well-polished silverware. Looking at the exceptionally dressed and groomed diners, I’m suddenly grateful that Elliot had Josephine work on me. I would’ve been mortified in my old clothes.
We walk around a wall of water. The dark blue light renders it almost, but not quite, opaque. Our guide makes a sharp turn to the left…and there’s our table, which is in the most private corner of the restaurant. A stunning blonde is seated there, her fitted red dress probably as pricey as the one Elliot bought me. But the comfortable air of “this is where I belong” tells me no man bought hers. Her hair is twisted into a simple chignon, and pearls adorn her ears and throat. She says something to a girl beside her, and my body freezes when I realize it’s Nonny. She looks different. No longer in old, Walmart sale clothes, she glows like a princess in a modest teal dress. The fabric is as delicate and soft as butterfly wings, and I know it must’ve cost a fortune.
I shoot Elliot a sharp look, which he studiously ignores. He merely puts a hand at the small of my back and urges me forward.
The blonde turns our way. “Oh good. You made it!”
“Hi!” Nonny waves.
Elliot leans down to kiss the blonde on the cheek. “Of course we did.” He straightens. “I’m surprised you’re on time. Thought you’d be late from the traffic.”
“Never be late for a free dinner.” She winks at Nonny, then turns to me.
I sink into my seat without acknowledging the question on her face. Elliot glides into place next to me. “Gigi,” he says, by way of introduction. I’m certainly not going to tell her my fake name.
Nonny frowns and looks at me, but I shake my head.
If the name Gigi means anything to the blonde, I can’t tell. Her gaze assesses me thoroughly, like I’m a fish on sale. She misses nothing as she takes in my hair, the pricey jewelry on me, and the dress…and the over-the-top ring. Something not entirely comfortable passes in her eyes before a polite smile appears, and then she’s the picture of social grace. “So nice to meet you. I’m Elizabeth.”
“My half-sister,” Elliot adds, then addresses his sister again. “I see you already met Nonny.”
“Yes. She’s such a sweetie.”
Nonny flushes, then looks at me. “Did you know she’s Ryder Reed’s sister?”
Ryder Reed is her favorite actor. But then, he’s a lot of women’s favorite.
Nonny stops with a sudden gasp, her eyes going wide as she turns to Elliot. “Wait…that means you’re related to him too!”
“Yep,” he says.
His hand rests on the back of my chair, and the thumb is brushing against my bare shoulder. I suppress a shiver as heat starts at the contact.
“Show me the ring!” Nonny says.
“Yes, show them the ring,” Elliot says lazily.
Licking my suddenly dry lips, I extend my hand. Elizabeth nods with a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. Nonny squeals. “Oh my gosh, it’s gorgeous!”
Forcing what I hope looks like a happy smile, I let her admire the ring for a minute or two before pulling my hand back. “We should probably order.”
Elizabeth and Elliot don’t bother to look at the leather-bound menu. It’s obvious they know exactly what they want, while my eyes cross at all the options. Even before everything tumbled down on my family, we never ate at a restaurant this fancy.
“I’ll have whatever you recommend,” I say finally, giving up.
Nonny’s shameless. “Does Ryder Reed come here a lot?”
“Fairly often,” Elizabeth says.
“Oh my god, that’s so cool! I’ll take whatever he usually has.”
“Fine, but no scotch,” Elliot says.
“Really? Is that, like, his favorite drink?”
I tense. She’s only fifteen, and she has no business talking about hard liquor with that kind of longing in her voice, even if it is her favorite actor’s poison of choice. “Nonny—”
“He rarely drinks,” Elizabeth says smoothly. “Alcohol is bad for an actor’s career. Makes you age prematurely.”
From the way Elliot snorts softly, I know she’s lying. But I’m grateful anyway. It’s bad enough that Nonny is at the age when she’s curious about stuff like this. I don’t want anything to encourage her in any way.
Our server takes our order and brings a bottle of a white wine I’ve never heard of. I turn it down, opting for sparkling water instead. Elliot cocks an eyebrow, but doesn’t comment.
When the food comes, it’s simply…exceptional. I’m not a big seafood eater, and the portions aren’t large, but everything melts in my mouth in an incredibly perfect blend of herbs and sauces.
“So…when’s the big day?” Elizabeth asks.
“ASAP,” Elliot answers. “Probably tomorrow.”
“Do you want me there? I can cancel my meetings.”
“No, it’s fine.”
Nonny looks at me. “I want to be there.”
“You have school,” I say.
A stubborn look enters her eyes.
“It’s going to be a very small ceremony,” Elliot says. “And since it’s happening so soon, I doubt anyone from my family’s going to show.”
“Not even Ryder Reed?” Nonny says.
“Especially not Ryder. He’s on his honeymoon in Thailand.”
Her shoulders sag in that dramatic end-of-the-world way only teenagers can manage.
“But when he’s in L.A., maybe we can see him.” Elliot winks conspiratorially.
I jerk at the unexpected kindness. I’m sure women want introductions to his more famous brother all the time, and he could’ve just dismissed Nonny. After all, she’s just extra baggage in this transaction of ours, and I’m not going to expect that he treat her as anything more.
But this…? I don’t think he did it out of calculation. He
already has my signature on the agreement.
I frown at the sea bream on my plate. I don’t want him to be nice to us, and especially not to Nonny. She doesn’t understand what the deal is. I don’t want her to develop unrealistic expectations, which can be dangerous. She’s already experienced enough disappointments in life.
And I’m torn; he’s not acting like a moneyed and entitled jerk around Nonny. Nothing much can get to me, but kindness to my sister? There’s no weapon more potent.
He is probably too well-bred to blow her off, I tell myself. Despite his wealthy family, he doesn’t strike me as the type who grew up with everything handed to him on a silver platter. And he made his own fortune, separate from his father’s.
But he isn’t well-bred enough to keep his hands to himself. A small brush of fingers. The cool glide of his slacks against my bare calves as he shifts. The casual way he pulls a tendril of hair off my flushed cheek.
And with every touch, a potent longing pierces me. I don’t know why this man makes me feel this way. It’s not the length of time since I last had sex. I’ve gone without before, I’ve felt attraction before, but those were pale shadows of what he arouses in me. It’s as though I’ve been drinking water all along, mistaking it for wine.
I go on autopilot, hoping nobody will notice. Somehow my brain commands me to smile when it’s appropriate and nod when required. By the time the server places dark chocolate mousse in front of us, tension winds through my body like piano wire. I’m so hypersensitive that the soft fabric of my dress seems to scrape my skin every time I breathe.
I pick up my fork and take a small bite of the dessert, but other than the fact that it’s soft, nothing registers. I’m too tightly strung to notice. From the others’ reactions though, the mousse must be decadent, a stairway to gastronomic heaven.
“Isn’t tomorrow a school day?” Elizabeth says, glancing at her slim platinum watch.
“I don’t go to bed that early.” Nonny polishes off the chocolate mousse on her plate, licking her lips.
“No, you’re right,” I say. “It’s time we got home.”
Something passes between Elizabeth and Elliot. “I’ll take her home,” Elizabeth says.
