by Alexa Riley
Grabbing my bathroom stuff, I find the en suite and put on some light makeup and brush my hair. It’s a mess, so I braid it down one side and let it rest over my shoulder. I glance in the mirror and see that I look a lot better than I did. Maybe not fancy enough for this place, but my sweater hangs off one shoulder and I look cute in it. Which is the best that I’ve got to offer at the moment. I know the lawyer talked about me going to formal events with Dane, but I’m not sure how I’m ever going to pull that off.
Taking a deep breath, I exit my room. I don’t want to be rude and make Dane wait on me. I slow my footsteps when I hear what sounds like two women laughing.
“Mom, what are you doing here?” I hear Dane say.
Crap. Am I supposed to meet his mom now? I’m not sure how to act. Does she know what’s happening? Do I act like an excited, loving fiancée or stay where I’m at? I come up short when I see two women facing Dane, standing in front of the elevator. Before I have a chance to turn and run, they all turn to look at me.
I feel like I just got caught doing something wrong, though I’m only frozen in place. No one says anything. All three just stare at me. My eyes move between them as I wait for someone to break the silence.
The older woman, I guess to be Dane’s mom. She has short gray hair that comes to her ears. It’s perfectly styled like the rest of her. She’s polished in a classic way, but I have the feeling there’s something sharp beneath the surface. I bet no one ever crosses her.
The other woman’s just as perfectly dressed. She has stick-straight blonde hair that comes to her shoulders. Not one hair is out of place. She towers over me and is probably close to six feet tall. She’s slim and her high-waisted skirt hugs her trim body. She steps a little to the side, moving closer to Dane. It might just be my imagination, but the move reminds me of someone staking a claim.
Dane’s eyes move from me to the woman. Her movement draws his attention, and he narrows his eyes.
“Willow, this is my mother, Beth, and her friend Sherrie,” Dane finally says.
Beth studies me like she’s trying to figure me out. Sherrie looks at me like I’m something foul she found on the bottom of her shoe. But then she forces a smile and playfully smacks Dane on the chest.
“Your mother’s friend? Really, Dane, I’ve known you my whole life.” She beams up at him, but Dane’s eyes are back on me now.
Everyone is so dressed up. I was right about this rich-people-wearing-fancy-stuff-to-dinner thing. I feel even more out of place. I didn’t know that was possible.
“It’s nice to meet you, Willow,” Dane’s mom finally says.
She steps toward me, so I take a few steps in her direction and reach out to shake her hand. Her hand slides into mine, but she doesn’t let go. She keeps a hold of me while her eyes study me.
“Aren’t you going to invite us to dinner, Dane?” Sherrie says.
My stomach knots a little. I wasn’t ready to meet people yet. I wanted to talk to Dane and see how I’m supposed to act.
“Of course he’s going to invite us. My son has manners. Don’t you?” Beth finally lets go of my hand and turns to look at Dane.
He runs a hand through his hair and exhales heavily. I don’t think he wants them to stay. He’s probably scared I’m going to mess this up or something, which is comical because I have the same fear.
I haven’t been here long, but I need this place. It would be easy to stay hidden here. When I lay in the bed, that was the safest I’d felt in what seemed like forever. I don’t want to let that go.
“Of course, Mom. The food is ready,” he says.
He walks over to me and lays his hand on my back. I glance up at him, looking for some kind of silent message, but he merely smiles down at me. The look is warm and I wonder if this is us faking it, so I return the smile. He guides me toward the dining room and pulls out a chair for me. I pause when I see it’s at the head of the table.
“Sit, sweetheart.” He says it like he’s been calling me that forever. It slides off his lips so smoothly. I do as he says and watch his mother take the seat to my left. He takes the one to my right. Sherrie slides, not so surprisingly, into the chair on the other side of Dane.
Dane lifts the lids off the dishes in the center of the table and starts piling food onto my plate. A giant piece of roast beef, mashed potatoes, green beans and rolls. My eyes almost bug out. My stomach rumbles and everyone looks at me. I haven’t had a full meal in so long. My face flushes with embarrassment. I glance to Dane to see if I’ve embarrassed him, too, but he’s smiling. He piles even more on my plate.
“Dane, I can’t eat all that. Save some for everyone else.”
“You’re hungry. You’ll eat.” His words make it clear that it’s final, but also carry a sweet undertone.
“Thank you,” is all I can think to say.
Everyone else starts making their own plates, but it’s not long before the silence is broken.
“Will you be joining Dane tomorrow for the gala?” Beth ask me.
My eyes shoot to him, but before I can answer, Sherrie speaks up.
“I thought I was going with you, Dane?” she pouts. Her lower lip even sticks out, which surprises me. She looks so well-bred from the outside, but now she’s acting like a child. He glances over at her, and she rests her hand on his arm. A spark of jealousy that I should not be feeling shoots through me. He doesn’t belong to me. He won’t even after we’re married.
I try to keep all emotions from showing on my face. I’m here to play a role. That’s it. I’m here to make Dane’s life easier. He doesn’t want a real wife, and he probably doesn’t want to deal with things like this. He doesn’t want a wife getting jealous and throwing a fit. Heck, even his own lawyer said he’d hire women for him to take care of his sexual needs.
“What are you talking about, Sherrie?” Dane looks irritated. His eyes fly over to Beth. “Mom?”
“I…ah…” She looks to me and her face softens a little. “I thought you might need a date.”
“We talked this morning. You were well aware of what’s happening in my life.”
My eyes bounce back and forth between the two of them, then to Sherrie. Her pout is gone and she’s glaring at me. I’ve never felt so awkward than in this moment.
“Eat, sweetheart,” Dane says, leaning over toward me.
“Dane. You can’t be serious. You’re really going to marry this girl?” Sherrie says with disdain
“Sherrie, maybe—” Beth attempts to placate her, but Dane cuts across her.
His fist hits the table hard, making everyone jump.
I wait for him to say something, but he doesn’t. I look down at my plate and continue eating. So does everyone else. I kind of wish a hole would swallow me up at the moment. I have no idea how to act or what to do, so I just eat.
The first bite hits my mouth and I moan. My eyes fall closed as the rich flavor of the meat hits my taste buds. It’s the best thing I’ve ever eaten. Or maybe it’s just been too long since I had a good meal.
“I want everyone to leave,” Dane says sharply.
My eyes fly open and I see he’s staring at me. He looks angry.
“Dane—” Sherrie starts to protest.
“No, Dane is right. We should go.” Beth stands. She puts her hand on my shoulder, giving it a squeeze. Sherrie huffs and stands up.
“I’ll call you later, Dane,” Sherrie says and stomps out of the room.
“Sorry,” Beth mouths before turning to follow Sherrie out.
“I’m sorry, too,” I whisper.
I’m still not sure what just happened, but I know it wasn’t good and I don’t know how much of it was my fault.
“I’m the one who’s sorry. Please eat, Willow, and try not to moan while you do it.”
I look up from my plate and feel my cheeks heat. I lick my lips because suddenly they feel dry. He must notice because he pushes the wine toward me.
“I’m not old enough,” I admit.
“How ol
d are you, Willow?” he grits out, panic on his face.
“Twenty.”
“Thank fuck for that,” he breathes.
I take the glass, and then he picks up his own, shooting it back in one gulp before setting it down on the table with a thunk.
“My mother can be pushy, but she means well. You’ll get used to it.” He look at me then fills up his wine glass again. “I’ll have a talk with her.”
“It’s fine, really. I don’t mean to cause trouble. I know I’m here to make things easier for you. Don’t talk to her on my account. I mean, if you still want me to stay.”
My eyes meet his. He’s doing that thing again where he studies me. I feel like everyone seems to be doing that around here. I wonder what they are trying to see.
Dane leans back in his chair. “I think you’re going to be a lot of trouble.” He shakes his head. That knot in my stomach grows a little more. The hunger I was feeling fades away.
“Eat,” he orders as if reading my mind.
“I’m really not that hungry.”
“I want you to eat,” he tells me. His words are soft now. I don’t know how he does that. His moods change so easily. “Sweetheart.” The term of endearment does me in. I pick up my fork and start eating again.
“This is really wonderful,” I tell him. “I love to cook, but I’m not sure I could beat this. Where did you learn to cook?” I try to make small talk because he’s not eating. He’s just watching me.
“I can’t even make toast,” he admits. “It’s the plus side to owning a hotel and living on the top floor. I can call for food whenever and it gets here in minutes.”
“Oh.”
“Feel free to order anything anytime you want. Just pick up the phone and hit zero.”
“Thanks.” I’m not sure I’ll actually do it. It would feel kind of odd to order food to his home. I wonder how he gets billed for it.
“Or make a list of groceries you need and you can take over the kitchen if you like,” he adds.
I glance over at the kitchen. It’s huge. I can’t believe he doesn’t use it. Anyone who likes to cook would die over a kitchen like that. It was made to be used.
“If you don’t mind. I really enjoy cooking and I’m not sure what else I’ll be doing around here. Maybe I could get a job in the hotel?” I suggest. I can’t sit around all day. Maybe he has something else in mind for me.
“Your job is to be my wife and nothing more.” He sounds irritated. “You won’t have time for a job. You’ll find I can be demanding.”
“Oh. Okay. What kind of things will I be doing? I didn’t get to read over the contract before you…” I trail off. He’d tossed it in the fire. This man is so confusing. I can’t get a read on him.
“Hmm,” is all he says.
“Are you having another contract made up?” I ask, and he shrugs.
“Are we still, you know, getting married?” I push, feeling worried.
“Sunday,” he says as he reaches out and touches the end of my braid. “It’s even softer than it looks.”
I don’t think he’s talking to me with how low he says the words. That soft look is back on his face, putting me at ease.
“We’re getting married Sunday?” I ask. “This Sunday?”
“Yes, I already made the calls. We’ll go out to dinner and attend the gala tomorrow and I’ll show you off. Introduce you as my fiancée. Then we’ll get married the next day.”
“You don’t think people will question it? I know you don’t want people to know that this is fake.” The hand playing with the end of the braid stills. “They’ll probably think I’m knocked up or something,” I joke.
A smile pulls at his lips. “I don’t care what anyone thinks.”
“Then why do you need to get married?”
“I want my mom off my back and I want women like Sherrie to leave me the fuck alone.” He leans forward. “I thought this might not work when I came up with the crazy idea. But now? Now I’m thinking this is going to work out quite well.” He lets go of the end of my braid and his hand brushes my bare shoulder. Goosebumps break out on my skin at the feel of his rough fingers. I didn’t expect them to feel that way. I thought they would be smooth from working in an office all day.
My cheeks heat. I don’t think it will be hard to be married to him either. Except I could risk losing my heart. He’s too sweet and he’s making me feel things I’ve never felt before.
“I can do whatever you need,” I tell him, because I want to keep this job.
His eyes narrow. “Anything?”
My face warms again. I know this is a marriage of convenience, but it wouldn’t be hard for it to be more. I’m more than attracted to him. Something about him is pulling me in. It’s unexplainable, but there’s a heat between us that I’ve never felt before. It wouldn’t take much for me to agree to anything he demanded.
My eyes lock with his and I find myself unable to speak.
Chapter 6
Dane
Last night was hell. I didn’t get a wink of sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, the image of Willow’s round tits burned the insides of my eyelids. The soft pink nipples pointed up and the soft curve under them begging for my teeth.
I pull the material of my tux down my leg, trying to make room for my hard length. It does no good, because there’s nowhere for the beast in my pants to go. My tuxedo was custom fit and I never expected to be walking around full chub while wearing it. I have to keep my coat buttoned or the bulge creeping up my bellybutton is going to be obscene.
It doesn’t help that Willow is sitting directly across from me and the town car is hitting every goddamn pothole in St Louis. Her breasts are wrapped tight, causing them to nearly spill over the top of her ridiculous dress.
Almost every inch of the car is stuffed full with hot-pink organza and tulle.
I spent the day working while a team of people came over to help Willow get ready. It was all I could do to stay in my office while they buzzed around the house. They brought in racks of dresses and three different people to do her hair. There was even one person specifically in charge of shoes. Throughout the day, I found excuses to walk into the suite they had set up for her. I caught glimpses of her in a silk robe and had to force myself not to stare at the smooth length of her legs. I had food brought to her room to make sure she ate, and then checked on her several more times until it was clear she needed to get dressed and I had to leave. The giggles that filled the room when I left made my chest burn.
When she walked into the living room where I was waiting, I had to hold my breath to keep my tongue in my mouth. The top of the dress was strapless and bound tight around her small body. Her hair was down in silky blonde waves over one shoulder and a clip covered in diamonds pinned part of it back. Her lips were glossed and full and I wanted nothing more than to throw her on the ground and mess up the hours of work it took to make her so painfully perfect.
When I didn’t say anything her smile fell, but I didn’t know what I could say that would do her justice. Instead I just took her hand and led her down to the car.
As we sit in silence now, I realize that probably wasn’t the best idea.
“You look beautiful,” I say, my voice rough from being silent for so long.
“Thank you.” Her whispered words are nearly drowned out by the sounds of traffic.
She won’t even look at me. Her eyes are focused on cars that pass by us, and her hands twitch in her lap. I let out a sigh, knowing I’ve somehow fucked this all up.
I lean forward and reach out, taking her hands in mine. I still don’t know what to say, so I remain silent as I hold her hands and rub my thumbs along the backs of hers. It’s the only way I know to show her what I’m feeling.
“You look nice, too,” she says, and I look up to see she’s finally turned her eyes on me.
There’s a moment that passes between us where I silently apologize. She smiles softly and then it feels like she accepts.
Bringing h
er hands to my mouth, I turn them over and kiss the palm of each one. As soon as my lips touch her skin I realize that I want to kiss more of her. So much more that it aches. But fate isn’t on my side tonight because right when I look up to do it, the town car comes to a stop. I glance out of the window to see the red carpet waiting and photographers ready to snap the first images of our exit.
“Don’t let go,” I tell her, squeezing her hands in mine.
She nods nervously but steels herself as the driver comes around and opens the door. I step out first and then help get the yards and yards of fluffy material out of the car before she can step out. When she’s able to stand fully I lock her arms around mine and we turn to face the crowd. There’s an audible gasp as silence falls, then just as quickly we’re drowned by the sound of hundreds of cameras clicking while flashes blind us.
“Dane?” she says, and I can hear the rising panic in her voice.
“I’ve got you sweetheart.”
We take a few steps and stop at the designated places on the red carpet. As we go through, I feel her arm relax and some of the tension leave her body.
“Who’s your date tonight, Mr. York?” someone yells from behind the press line.
“This is Willow Adams,” I say, looking down at her. More flashes go off as she smiles up at me. “My fiancée.”
Willow bites her lip and smiles as the crowd erupts with more questions. We ignore them and make our way into the venue. It’s a lot less chaotic once the doors close behind us and we enter the ballroom. There is a band playing big brass music and people are dancing. There’s a long buffet of food and waiters walk around offering the drink specials of the night.
“Ma’am?” one waiter says, offering Willow a tray of pink drinks that shockingly match her dress.
“I guess I have to,” she says, smiling at him.
It rubs me the wrong way, and the guy must sense it because he stops smiling and backs away into the crowd.
“Oh, it tastes like watermelon,” she exclaims, taking another big gulp.
“That’s probably got a lot of alcohol in it,” I say as I decline a passing waiter’s offer of wine and champagne. I want to keep my head tonight, especially if Willow is drinking.
