His Virgin Bride

by Riley Rollins

  The ceilings are nearly forty feet high at their peak, all sustainable wooden paneling supported by Argentinean log beams. A reflecting pool composes the centerpiece of the room, framed by sculptures and designer sofas.

  "I take it back," she says. "That wasn't excessive. This is excessive."

  "I thought you weren't impressed by material things?"

  "I'm not. I'm just trying to understand why they're so important to you."

  I can't lie, I'm taken aback by the bluntness of her question. I've been challenged by a lot of people, men and women alike, but never about my appreciation for the finer things in life. Most people believe that the value of having nice things is self-evident.

  "Well," I say, "I was brought up to believe that no one would provide for me. That I would have to provide for myself. So I enjoy surrounding myself with evidence of my success."

  Leah tips her head, as if she's psychoanalyzing me. But I don't care. I'm too busy thinking about how her head would tilt the same way if she were kissing me.

  "So your parents didn't provide for you?"

  Again, I'm taken aback by her questioning. "Of course they did," I say. "But I had to… fend for myself."

  "Meaning what, exactly?"

  "Meaning… they prioritized their work above everything. Including their child."

  "So you like to buy stuff as a replacement for your parent's love."

  My jaw twitches at the way she analyzes me, and for some reason it hits a nerve. But nobody gets under my skin—not Rex LaPrise, not investors and shareholders, and certainly not Leah Price.

  I force a smile, and I don't need to wonder if it looks natural. I know it does. I've used my fake smile many times before. "Sure. Something like that," I say with a dismissive wink.

  But inside, I feel like she's exactly right. My parents were never truly there for me as a child. Even though I technically had a family, I always felt alone. And I think that explains why I feel so lonely now. I never learned how to have real relationships, so instead I did the only thing I was good at: making money. Lots and lots of it.

  And I neglected everything else.

  Damn. Does she see right through me? There aren't many people in this world who can make me start to reflect on my life before eight-'o-clock in the morning.

  I take Leah through the rest of the mansion on the way to the garage where the limousines and other vehicles are parked.

  It's a 10-car wide garage. Three limos, two SUVs, two sports cars, two motorcycles, and one ATV.

  "That's the one we were in last night," I say, pointing to one of the limos. "It'll be unlocked."

  Leah opens the rear door and sticks her head inside. I didn't mean for her to give me a great view of her ass in those leggings, but it's exactly what's happening. I wonder if she realizes it and is teasing me on purpose, or if she's completely oblivious. If I had any less self-control, I wouldn't be able to stop myself from reaching out and grabbing it.

  Either way, it's making my cock fucking hard as hell in my pants. I reach down into my waistband and make a discreet adjustment before she stands upright again.

  "Hey," she says, turning toward me. "I don't see it in here."

  "If you left it there, it's there," I say. I walk around to the opposite door, yank it open, and start searching inside. I slide a hand around on the dark floor, under the seat, and feel a flat object.

  "Got it," I say, and lift my head up.

  Then I realize I'm face-to-face with Leah, each of us leaning into the limo on opposite sides. And our faces are only six or eight inches apart. Her smell reaches my nose, and it's perfectly natural, perfectly feminine. Not like most women, who use overpowering perfumes and other products that hide their natural smell.

  No, this is all Leah Price, and it's absolutely intoxicating.

  I see her eyes drop down to my lips, and for a second, I entertain the idea of grabbing her face and kissing her right here and now. My body screams at me to do it.

  But then she reaches out and puts a hand on the notebook, and the moment is gone.

  "This what you're looking for?" I say.

  "Yes."

  "Then you can stop staring at my lips, now."

  She laughs and blushes. "I was not!"

  "Well, damn. Because I was staring at yours," I say.

  She looks down, shyly, and bites her lip again. "Thank you for the notebook, Luke. I should really be going now."

  I grin. "You'll be back. Sooner or later."

  She gives me a shy smile.

  5

  Leah

  "Hi dad," I say. The sound of the beeping heart monitor interrupts the eerie silence of my dad's ICU room here at the New Jersey General Hospital. The room looks clean but old, and well worn. It's probably had thousands of patients within its walls, and been scrubbed down thousands of times after each patient went home… or never got the chance to.

  My dad lies under the white sheets, his cheek resting on the pillow beneath his head. He's only 57, but he looks so frail and old right now. I hate to see him like this.

  The doctors thought that his case would be open-and-shut as far as cancer goes. They predicted a 90% chance of remission within six months.

  But for some unfair reason, my dad fell into that unlucky 10%, and he kept getting worse instead of better. Now, I don't even know what's going to happen. I just try to come down here every week to visit him and keep his spirits up.

  Fuck cancer.

  My dad's eyes slowly open, and he grins when he sees me. A rare flash of his old self comes through.

  "Hey there, Leelee," he says, using the pet name he's always used for me since I was a child. "Looking good. Give your dear old dad a pat on the back for doing such a good job."

  I can't help grinning, and I bend down to give him a hug. I pull up a chair from the corner of the room and sit down with him.

  "How was your week, Dad?" I ask.

  "Oh, good. The nurses in this place are fine as all hell."

  I blush and can't help laughing. "Dad! I hope you don't say that to their faces."

  He groans. "Sorry. I meant that in a completely professional way, obviously."

  "Obviously."

  "I'm fine. Chemo is kicking my ass as always, but the docs think this latest round is going to turn the tide."

  "I sure hope so."

  "Enough about me, though, how's my princess?"

  My dad and I chat about my contract, Aya, my meeting with my editor, and everything else happening in my life right now.

  "Leah," he says, grabbing onto my hand. I know that every time he does that, it means he's about to say something serious. "There's something I want to mention to you."

  "Okay," I say. "Anything."

  "If this whole thing with the chemotherapy doesn't end up working out—"

  "Dad!" I exclaim, interrupting him. "It's going to work out. Don't say things like that."

  "Right," he says, "I'm sure it's going to be fine. But listen. You're the most important thing to me in this world, and I want you to know that. I want you to be taken care of if I'm no longer around."

  I'm not going to do it, I'm not going to cry in front of my dad. "Stop chopping onions in here," I say to him, trying to keep my composure.

  He smiles. "For real, I'm a tough old bastard and you know that. I also know you can take care of yourself. But just promise me that you'll find a good man to spend your life with. Someone who treats you right and will take care of you."

  "I'll… do my best," I say. It isn't the first time my dad has brought this up with me. But I don't really like talking about it. It's another layer of pressure on my already-difficult dating life, and especially in the current circumstance, it's just stressful all around.

  I think about Luke. It would make my dad happy if I told him I just went on a date, but honestly, what would I even say about it? That I went out with the billionaire who owns the company I'm working for now, and it could be a huge scandal that blows up in my face? I don't feel like I c
an mention it to him until I know Luke better.

  He smiles. "Don't end up like me and your mom, divorced. Find someone who will stick with you and who you can raise a family with."

  "That's a lot to take in, dad, but I hear you." I give his hand a squeeze, and I think about what he said. My mom is long gone, out of the picture. I definitely don't want to end up like that. When my dad is gone, I'll have no one left. No close family members, anyway. I'm a single child.

  I think about Luke again. Maybe I should mention something. If for no other reason than I know it would make my dad happy.

  "Hey," I say, "I might actually have an update on the dating front soon."

  His eyes perk up. "Yeah?"

  "Yeah. But nothing concrete yet. I'll let you know."

  He looks happier already. "Sounds good."

  "Hey," he adds, "Can you call one of those nurses in here?" He grins. "It's time for my sponge bath."

  I grin and shake my head.

  6

  Luke

  When the fifteenth of the month rolls around, it's time for my meeting with Rex LaPrise. He's coming to Diamond House Tower to meet me in my office, on my own turf.

  In general, I avoid Rex as much as possible. But with the upcoming merger between our two companies, avoidance is no longer a valid strategy. We may be bitter rivals in competition for the same position, but we still have to work together to ensure a smooth transition.

  I hold out some hope that he'll cancel the meeting so I don't have to deal with his fucking ass today, but no such luck. A few minutes before our scheduled meeting at four-o'clock, my intercom buzzes.

  "Mr. Steele. Mr. LaPrise is here," says my assistant's voice.

  My finger slips off the talk button and my fist clenches involuntarily. Here we go. I hit it again. "Let him in." I pull out my handy bottle of scotch from my desk drawer, and take a swig.

  Dealing with scum like Rex practically requires a baseline level of intoxication.

  The door clicks open and he enters my office. He's older, with short, buzzed graying hair and a dead-looking face like a ghost, or maybe a robot. He creeps me out. Every time I'm around the guy, I feel like he's waiting for the perfect time to skin me and play around in my blood.

  We've only got about four weeks left until our two companies merge, and the board of directors picks just one of us to take over the new publishing empire.

  My jaw twitches.

  I stand up and extend a hand to Rex. I may hate the guy, but that doesn't mean I'm going to break basic business etiquette.

  He reaches over my desk and takes it. We both squeeze hard. Hard enough that it could break the bones of lesser men. Rex is a lot stronger than pudgy old Rick.

  Rex releases his grip first and puts an eerie smile on that pale, ghastly face of his.

  "Rex."

  "Mr. Steele."

  "Talk."

  "Well, thank you for the warm welcome," he says. His face nearly contorts into a sneer, but he holds back just enough that I can't be sure. "As you know, Mr. Steele, preparations are underway for the merger. And the combined board will be making their decision shortly thereafter."

  "Did you come to summarize the next month, Rex, or do you have something useful to say?"

  He gives me a nasty little grin. "Well, I simply wanted to wish you luck."

  "Then why don't I believe you?"

  "Paranoia?"

  "Not at all."

  "Then perhaps you're just taking this all too seriously."

  I grit my teeth. "You know the stakes, Rex. And I don't intend to go quietly into the night."

  He sneers. "Is that right?"

  "I built this business from the ground up. You inherited McMaster while it was already flying high. You're not qualified for the job. You won't take away what I've built."

  He gets under my skin, and I hate it, but I don't let him see it. I maintain my composure. That's how this game is played. The first one to show weakness gets torn apart.

  He shrugs. "We'll see about that. Though, should the board pick me, I'll see to it that you're placed into a lucrative Vice President position. Or Assistant Director."

  Either of those positions would be an insult, not a sportsmanlike concession, and he knows that just as well as I do.

  I don't respond.

  "One other thing," he adds, and I brace myself. He always likes to throw curveballs at the last minute.

  "Speak."

  "I hear you were quite the playboy back in your younger days, Luke."

  I narrow my eyes and shake my head at him. "I have no idea where you're going with this, but I suggest you stay the hell out of my business. Worry about you."

  "Oh?" he says, an evil little grin on his face. "Well, all I'm saying, is that it would be a damn shame if all of these find their way into the public sphere." He reaches into his pocket, and pulls out a USB thumb drive.

  I grit my teeth. "What the hell is that?"

  "A little something I dug up. Photos, videos, eyewitness accounts of your bad behavior from back in the day. There's a lot of material here. Drinking, girls, clubbing… you know."

  My fist clenches. "Unbelievable," I say. "This is beyond the pale."

  Yeah, back in college and in my earlier days, I partied to excess and did some things I'd rather leave in the past. But everyone has some ghosts in their closet, and I thought mine were locked in there for good.

  But now Rex is digging up my past in order to derail my future. And it's probably the only way he can, too, because I have a leg up on him where it really counts—in business skill and knowledge.

  "You know," he says quietly, "you could always step out now. You know, save yourself the embarrassment. I'm sure everyone would understand if you decided you simply no longer wished to lead the new company."

  That motherfucker. I can't believe he'd come into my office and try to blackmail me like this.

  "Over my dead body," I say.

  "Well," he says, pocketing the USB drive again, "Then I trust we'll be seeing more of each other during the coming weeks."

  I have to hold myself back from launching myself over the desk at him. This is how he finds advantages. By getting under your skin until you say or do something that you shouldn't. Then he unravels you like a ball of yarn.

  He won't do it to me. No matter how hard he tries. If he releases dirt on my past, I'll deal with it when it happens. Because that's who I am now. A good, responsible man. I'm not a playboy partier anymore. Those days are over.

  And whatever I am, I'm definitely not like Rex.

  "That will be all. Get the hell out of my office," I say, using my most authoritative, get-shit-done voice.

  He stares into my eyes, then gives me the most fake smile I've ever seen in my life before he turns and leaves.

  What a fucking waste of air he is.

  In the days after my meeting with Rex, I'm completely on fucking edge. I don't know exactly what dirt he has, or how he plans to use it, but I do know that I'm in for the fight of my life.

  It pisses me off that there's nothing I can do. Even if I'd grabbed the USB drive from him, he's smart enough to have a backup copy of the data somewhere else.

  I feel like I'm going to fucking explode. I need a distraction.

  I think about Leah. She still hasn't texted me since she picked up the notebook from my place. I'm starting to wonder if she actually wants to see me again. I'm not used to women doing anything except jumping all over me. So now that a woman I like isn't falling all over me, it's bothering me.

  My phone sits on my desk, beckoning. I grab it and kick back in my chair, throwing my feet up on my desk. I switch to the text messaging app and compose a new message:

  I want to see you again. I haven't stopped thinking about you.

  I don't expect a response anytime soon, and so I stand up, shove my phone in my pocket, and get ready to head out for the evening. But to my great surprise, my phone dings with a new text message almost right away.

  Is that ri
ght? :)

  Grinning to myself, I tap a reply.

  I've been dying to get my hands on you again ever since that night. Maybe more than just my hands.

  This time, I don't get a reply back right away. I wait five minutes, then ten, and still nothing.

  Well, shit. Maybe this is the time that I went too far with a woman. Maybe Leah really isn't that kind of girl, and I should have played it cooler with her.

  I pace around my office. Damn. This is really out of character for me. I'm Luke Steele, CEO of the biggest publishing company in the world. Not some teenage dumbass who can't wait for his phone to ring.

  But then my phone dings again, and I rush to read the message:

  I'm thinking about that, too.

  I reply:

  You must love keeping me in suspense, then.

  She texts back:

  Just busy. Let's do something soon. I want to see you too. I like the way you make me feel.

  Hell yes. I grin to myself as I pack up for the day.

  Maybe everything with Rex is going to hell in a handbasket, but knowing that I'm going to see Leah Price again makes everything seem okay.

  7

  Leah

  I suck the huge straw in my bubble tea cup and I get a mouthful of balls.

  Tapioca balls, that is. Every Saturday for lunch, Aya and I come to the Miss Saigon Vietnamese restaurant in Brooklyn to get pho and bubble tea.

  I like the green tea flavor, and I always get the squishy tapiocas in mine. Aya gets the regular royal milk tea with no tapiocas.

  After finally learning how to use chopsticks last year, now I use them every chance I get. With my chopsticks in my right hand, I twirl a bunch of noodles and deposit them in a soup spoon in my left hand. Then I slurp them up.

  "So," says Aya, drinking her pho broth and eyeing me, "There's a guy."

  I roll my eyes. "There's always a guy with you."

  She grins devilishly. "Not with me."

  I try to look innocent. "What do you mean?"