by Alexa Riley
Ouch. I hold back my flinch. I know I’m not the prettiest, but I’m not horrible looking either. This guy is a jerk.
“So no sex?” I push, wanting to be sure. It’s hard to even get the words out, and my cheeks heat, but I need to know.
“No. If Mr. York requires it, I’ll have someone else fill that need for him.”
I swallow. That should be a relief, but it still feels funny. I know this is a fake marriage, but still.
“Dr. Link is going to give you a physical. After everything comes back clear we will move on with the paperwork and pre-nuptial agreement.” He taps the folder. “When she’s done I’ll take you to your room. You’re on the east side of the building. Mr. York is on the west. Don’t venture to his side. He likes his privacy at all times. Read over the papers while we wait for your blood work so you’re ready to talk about everything. I don’t want any misunderstandings.”
He seems so cold, but this really is just a business deal. I never thought this was how I’d get married, but I guess there’s a first time for everything.
“Will we get married right away?” I ask.
“No. In a week or so. Mr. York is going to take you out a few times. Let people see you with him so it seems as if you’ve been dating. I’ve come up with a story of how you met. Everything is right here.” He taps the folder again.
“Dr. Link,” the man says. It’s then I realize he didn’t even tell me his name. I’m guessing he’s Mr. York’s lawyer. I’m also guessing Mr. York is a very rich man. I didn’t really get to take a look around before I was rushed into this office, but with all the people working for him, and this talk of protecting his assets, it’s not hard to make assumptions.
The doctor stands and comes toward me.
“Paul, get out of my fucking chair!” I jump at the barked order. “And you. Don’t touch her.”
The doctor freezes.
I turn my eyes, meeting the chest of a man in a dark suit. My eyes follow the suit, up, up, up, and land on the darkest eyes I’ve ever seen.
Chapter 3
Dane
I’ve just finished one meeting and the next one is about to start. Andrew, my personal assistant, stands at my side, holding out a phone for me to take. I eye it and with one look from him, I know it’s my mother. I roll my eyes but take the phone anyway, because I know she’s just going to call back if I don’t.
“I’ve got about four minutes before my next meeting. What couldn’t possibly wait until dinner tonight?” I say, shuffling papers on the table in front of me.
“I’m going to pretend you’ve had an aneurysm and you’ve forgotten that you don’t speak to your mother that way.”
I fall down in my seat and lean my head back. I let out a heavy sigh and try to apologize for my tone.
“Mom…” I begin, but she’s not having it today.
“Dane, what in the hell have you done?”
I sit up in my seat as blood rushes to my ears.
“Did you think I wouldn’t find out?” She goes on without letting me speak. “How could you do this to me?”
“Mom, it’s not what you think,” I try, but I can hear her pacing.
“Your father would be rolling in his grave if we didn’t have him cremated.” She lets out a grunt of frustration, but it sounds like she’s stopped pacing. “A mail-order bride, Dane? What is this, the eighteenth century?”
“I don’t think that time period is correct,” is all I can manage to say in response.
“Watch your mouth, smart ass,” she grumbles.
“How did you find out?” My back straightens and I worry about information leaking to the press. If my mother can find out, maybe someone else will.
“Calm down,” she says, like she can sense where my train of thought is going. “Paul came over here this morning to look over my new contract and I accidentally saw the folder in his bag.”
I sigh, knowing good and well she probably snooped in my lawyer’s bag for it. The woman has no shame.
My mother should know better than anyone why I’m doing this. She’s been hounding me for years to find a wife and settle down, even going so far as to get women to pop in on me, hoping that I’d take a shine to one of them. Every time I turn around she’s got another “friend” she wants to introduce me to. It’s gotten so bad that I refuse to go to her house anymore because of all the extra guests she would invite when she’d have me over for dinner. It’s becoming maddening. Not only that, but I need to be seen as a family man.
I’ve made my business what it is today, and I’ve built an empire. My company is a financial investment firm, and people who want to invest with me want to be able to trust me. It doesn’t matter how smart I am or that I’m the best in the business. At the end of the day, they are signing on with someone they intend to be with until their grandkids have grandkids. I’ve also become a bit of a celebrity after making People magazine’s most eligible bachelor list. I didn’t want to do it, but my marketing department pushed for it, saying all press was good press. But having women in prison send you letters is a bit creepy.
I want to end all the talk about me being single and get back to what I do best—business. I don’t have time for a wife and family. But a fake marriage? Sure, I’ve got time for that. I found an agency that prized discretion. Once I found a young woman willing to meet my terms it was set. My mother doesn’t need to know the details, or that in five years I’ll be single again. All she needs to know is that she can stop trying to set me up, and the rest of the world can go back to ignoring me.
“It’s honestly just a dating service, Mom,” I hedge. I don’t want to give her the whole truth yet. “I’ve agreed to meet with a few prospective clients and see if any offer a good return.”
“How romantic,” she says, and I can practically hear her eyeroll.
“You know how I am.” I look up and see people enter the room. “We’ll discuss this later.”
“I’m sure we won’t. But I’ll keep pestering you until I get the whole truth.”
“I love you, Mom,” I say, and hear her say it back before I end the call.
My mom is one of those old romance authors and she’s got it in her head that I’m going to magically meet someone and fall in love. She thinks she’s a fairy godmother in a Disney movie, and I haven’t been able to convince her otherwise.
My entire life she’s been waiting for me to meet “the one” and I’m sorry to say I’ve been a big disappointment in that department. But my life’s work is my work, and I’m okay with that. I just wish she would be, too. Maybe one day I’ll settle down, but I’ve got decades before I’m ready for that. Right now, I just want people to get off my back and make my public appearance legit. I’ve got a lot of functions I have to attend and it’s only going to benefit me to have someone steady on my arm. I can’t bring in a new fling every week, and I don’t want to. That’s just now how I’m wired.
Much to my mother’s dismay, I was never into dating. I was a nerdy kid who liked numbers and I never really grew out of that. Even though my body grew and grew, I still stayed the same number-cruncher inside.
As everyone takes their seat and my project manager starts the slideshow, I think about the woman I’m supposed to be meeting later on this afternoon. How, for all intents and purposes, after a few days she’s going to become my wife. A contract was the only way I could see around my problem, and it made financial sense. I’m all about the bottom dollar, and that’s the kind of short-term wife I need. Hopefully the one the agency has sent over can agree to the terms and conditions. I’m ready to have this chapter of my life opened, then closed, so I can move past it.
Chapter 4
Dane
Andrew brings me my phone again at the end of my third meeting. There’s a message from my driver Jason saying he’s picked up the woman from the agency and they are on the way to the penthouse.
Hoping to get this over quickly, I text back that I’ll be home soon and finish up what I need to be
I have another driver pick me up outside of my offices and I climb in the back of the sedan. There’s traffic, and though it shouldn’t annoy me, it does. I pull out my phone and then click on the program that shows the cameras in my home. If I’m lucky I’ll get a chance to see her before I get there.
James said they sent over a picture, but I didn’t bother looking at it. It doesn’t matter to me what she looks like, as long as she’s young and can play the part. I know that perception is a part of it, but I left it up to the agency to decide.
As I wait for the app to load, I catch glimpses of her walking from the car, and then taking the elevator. Traffic starts to move and I’m getting closer to home as the images become clearer.
The video is black and white, but I can see her hair is light in color, and so are her eyes. She smiles at something Jason says, and for half a second I feel a rush of anger.
“What the hell?” I mumble to myself in surprise.
Why am I getting upset that she’s smiling at him? And why does she keep doing it? What’s so damn funny? Jason’s never said a funny thing in his entire life.
“Can you hurry it up?” I bark, and the car picks up speed.
I watch on my phone as she exits the elevator and Paul greets her. I don’t like the look he’s giving her, and I squeeze my phone tighter.
The car stops and I open the door before the driver has a chance to come around. I stomp through the underground garage and slide my card through the slot, waiting on the elevator to come down and meet me. My eyes are glued to my phone as I trace every inch of her on the screen.
She’s smaller than I thought she would be, and curvier than I expected. She’s isn’t anything I had pictured in my mind. I was thinking I’d be set up with a tall, thin woman who would be severe in looks and attitude. Someone who would make it easy for me to be cold to. Someone I didn’t want to touch, and caress, and press against. The woman on my screen is the opposite of what I had asked for, and suddenly my mind is changing.
When I climb on the elevator and hit the button for home, I watch the woman’s shoulders tense as Paul says something to her. I think—for the second time today—that I need to fire his ass, and I press the penthouse button seven more times to try to speed up this metal box.
I finally make it to the top and practically burst through the doors, wanting to get to my office. Once I’m in, I yell something at Paul and the nurse as I lose my mind for a moment. My breath catches as the bride turns around to face me.
Long blonde hair cascades over one shoulder as big blue eyes slowly make their way up to mine. I’m a whole foot taller than her, and her size is almost comical compared to mine. But even as I stand before her, I’m already thinking of ways to make us fit.
“Everybody out,” I say without taking my eyes off her. “Except you,” I amend, as she begins to ask if she should go.
Once the room is empty, I feel a little less pressure on my heart, and I’m beginning to think a little straighter.
“Sorry about that,” I say, not wanting to intimidate her. “I’m Dane.”
I hold my hand out and, god help me, the small smile she gives me shatters my cold, dead heart.
“I gathered that. I’m Willow.” Her voice is soft and her hand is even softer as she places it in mine.
One touch, and I know that I don’t want to let go of it. The feel of her delicate fingers in mine has blood thundering to my cock, and I want to push her against a wall and hump her. Fucking hell, what is wrong with me? I’ve never felt so out of control.
“We were just about to sign some paperwork,” she says, looking away from me and taking her hand from mine.
She takes a step back, physically distancing herself from me, and I want to close the gap and wrap her up in my arms. A wall of ice has been laid between us and I’m angry at it. She glances over to the desk where her folder and all of the documents I’ve already signed lie open. Frustration and irrational anger flood me and I walk over, grab them up and take them to the fire. I chuck them inside, and a smile pulls at my lips as I watch them burn.
I may have thought I had the perfect plan to begin with, but I’m going to change things up a bit. Turning around on my heels, I face Willow. She looks at me in shock, and I can tell she’s a little wary.
“I’ll need to have some new ones drafted,” I say, trying to come up with some reasonable explanation as to why I just burned all the documents she was told she needed to sign. “Why don’t I show you to your room, and maybe you can freshen up for a later dinner?”
She bites her lip but straightens her shoulders and nods. “That would be nice, thank you.”
I want to walk over to her and take her hand in mine, but instead I settle for standing a little too close as we walk down the hall and to the west wing of the home. Originally, I’d wanted her to stay on the opposite side, but seeing her here now has prompted a change in me.
Something inside of me is screaming to have her as close as possible, and I’ve always been a man who listens to his gut. I’ve made a living off doing what I feel is right, and Willow is no exception.
When we get to the door that’s next to the master, I stop. “I’ll have your things brought in.”
“Thank you. That’s really kind,” she says, looking up at me and then quickly looking away.
I want her eyes on me at all times. Is that too much to ask?
“Okay then. I’ll let you get settled, and I’ll meet you for dinner in about an hour.” I stand there, trying to think of another reason to stay with her, but I can’t come up with one. “All right. I’ll leave you to it.”
I hear her giggle behind me as I turn to walk away, and I close my eyes tightly. I’ve embarrassed myself, but I also love the sound of her laugh, and I make a note to embarrass myself as much as possible around her, if it means I get to hear that again.
When I get back to my office Paul is waiting on me. No surprise there.
“Tell me you didn’t just burn those documents I spent hours going over?”
“You’re suspended on my accounts until further notice. Have Braxton take over for you,” I say, walking past him and settling in my chair.
“What did you just say?” Paul asks, shock clear in his voice.
“You heard me. Now get out.”
A moment passes before I look up and see he wants to say something but thinks better of it. I wait, and instead of making a scene he grabs his bag and leaves without a word. At least he did something right today.
When the door closes, I cover my eyes and attempt to process what just happened. I have no explanation for anything that has happened since I left my office, but I know two things are for sure. One, Paul had it coming and it was long overdue that I find a new attorney. Two, the little blonde Willow has just changed up every plan I ever had.
Chapter 5
Willow
I’m not really sure what just happened. My heart’s racing after meeting Dane. I’m more confused than ever. Why does he need a wife for hire? I’m sure women throw themselves at him. Not to mention, he’s clearly rich.
I drop my bag to the floor and survey the room. Everything is white—the walls, the furniture, even the carpet. It’s pretty but stark. The room looks as if it’s never been used before. I slip off my shoes and walk over to the bed. I have to climb up to get on it, but when I do I let myself fall into the softness. I sink into the blanket and pillows and moan at the feeling of a nice bed. I didn’t know they could feel so soft.
My eyes fall closed as I try to remind myself I’m safe.
When I open them again, I roll over and see a phone next to my bed. I want so badly to pick it up and call Bebe, but I know I can’t. I’m sure she’s still traveling and trying to get back home. This is for the best, and I have to be strong.
I glance at the clock and see that thirty minutes have passed. I must have fallen asleep for a quick moment. I need to get ready to meet Dane downstairs for dinner. Butterflies dance in my stomach at the idea of seeing him again. I try to push them away. It’s so not a good idea to fall for this guy. It’s a marriage of convenience, I remind myself. I sit up on the side of the bed and debate what to wear.
Don’t rich people dress up for dinner even when it’s just at home? I didn’t bring anything nice. I only have one other dress in my bag and the rest is jeans, shirts and sweaters.
I bring my bag over to a table and dump it out. I unpack everything I have and check it all over. I grab a pair of black yoga pants and my oversized purple sweater. I toss it on the bed then dig for my sandals. It’s too chilly out to wear sandals, but since we are eating in I think it will be fine.
I strip off my clothes, wanting to be fresh. I slide off my bra and then turn to grab a new one out of my bag when I hear a sharp intake of breath.
I jump when I see Dane standing in the doorway. One hand is gripping the door frame, and the other is on the doorknob. He’s gripping it so tightly his knuckles are turning white. We both stand there staring at each other.
Embarrassment burns my cheeks as I move my hands to cover my breasts. I’m sure my fair skin turns red everywhere from the way his eyes are burning my skin.
“Dinner’s almost ready,” he snaps, looking away from me quickly and slamming the door closed.
I jump again at the loud noise. I’m in shock. It all happened so fast. Is he mad? At first I thought he was eyeing my body, but he seemed mad when he slammed the door. I have no idea now that the situation is over and I’m trying to wrap my head around it. I rush over to the door and check for a lock, but I can’t find one. I make a mental note to get dressed in the bathroom from now on as I hurriedly put on my clothes.
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