An Unlikely Bride

by Nadia Lee

  The woman turns her head, arches an eyebrow as she notices me and whispers something into the man’s ear. My lips part. It’s Faye Belbin. The jet-black hair, the pale skin and the dainty face are unmistakable. A low-cut royal-blue dress clings to her stunning body like she had it glued on.

  Then the man shifts and I see the unforgettable profile—Lucas. His presence slams into me like a sucker punch, and it’s all I can do to remain standing.

  Faye tilts her head, and her gaze locks with mine. A corner of her mouth quirks up, and she pulls Lucas closer and kisses him, her eyes still on me.

  He’s still thin, but the black suit fits him like a glove, showing off his wide, strong shoulders. Hot and cold move through me swiftly, and I can barely breathe.

  A low moan tears from someplace deep in my throat. The longer they kiss, the more my flesh seems to flay. I bite my lower lip, hoping the physical pain will overwhelm the crippling ache in my heart.

  The driver opens the door, and Faye drags Lucas into the car like some mythical siren, their mouths still fused. Lucas palms her waist, and the door shuts.

  I clench my shaking hands, then clasp them together. It’s not just my hands—my whole body’s trembling.

  He’s moved on. The only person who hasn’t is me. My reaction tonight proves that. If I ever meant anything, he couldn’t have done what he just did with Faye so soon after the breakup. His “I’m in love with you” was fake, a lie, just like everything else he’s ever said to me.

  But telling myself that doesn’t lessen the hurt. Blinking away tears, I turn back to the hotel. Lucas might’ve gutted me, but I still have work to do. And I have a date waiting for me inside.

  “Oh my God, is that you?”

  What now? I sniffle, then turn. The air whooshes out of my lungs. It’s my half-sister, Elle—my father’s real daughter.

  It would be impossible for this night to get any worse.

  We both have our father’s hair, but her eyes are green like her mother’s. Elle’s in a slinky red dress, her thick blond mane twisted into a fancy updo. “What…” She shakes her head. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be back in Hicksville, Virginia?”

  “I’m working. What are you doing here?” Elle’s family was in Northern Virginia last time I checked, and she works for some bank in Boston.

  She shifts her weight and straightens. “I’m here to support the poor, of course. My fiancé’s family is into stuff like that.”

  Right. Her Harvard lawyer fiancé, a man who gazes at her like she’s the center of his universe. And unlike me, what Elle has is real. A girl like her doesn’t get played by slick guys full of empty words.

  “I can’t believe you’re in L.A. working for a hotel.”

  I shake my head. “I’m not. I work for the Sterling Medical Center.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  I merely stare at her.

  She huffs and looks off into the distance. “Damn it. This is a disaster.”

  “Why?”

  “Why do you think? Cedric can’t know about a familial blemish like you. And what would his parents think?”

  I realize that I don’t measure up to anybody’s idea of perfection, but being called a blemish is a little too much. “Why would they find out about me unless you blab? Do you think I’m proud we’re related?”

  Her complexion turns red. “Are you serious?” She rests her hands on her waist. “It’s your mother who caused all the trouble. She should’ve left Dad alone. He was married.”

  “And if your mother”—I sneer—“had been a better wife, maybe he wouldn’t have strayed. It takes two to tango. Don’t forget, Elle, men like us crude, crass girls, too.” For a cheap, dirty thrill that leaves the woman feeling worthless and used, but Elle doesn’t need to know that.

  “Are you done?”

  I’m not, but I don’t want to fight. If her fiancé’s family are potential donors, antagonizing them won’t go over well with Robbie.

  “Oh, there you are!” comes a soft voice.

  Damn it. I close my eyes for a moment. Elizabeth.

  Elle’s demeanor instantly changes. “Oh my goodness, Elizabeth! So good to see you again.”

  “Likewise, Elle. You look beautiful. Engagement must agree with you.”

  Elle flushes.

  “You’ve made Cedric so happy.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Do you mind giving us some privacy?” Elizabeth says, gesturing at me. “There are a few items I need to discuss with Ava.”

  Elle glances between me and Elizabeth. “Of course. It’s always a chore, isn’t it, instructing the help?”

  My cheeks redden at the snub. She is just like her obnoxious mother. I press my lips together and wait for Elizabeth to join the snotty fun.

  “I’m afraid you’re mistaken, Elle. Ava is a valuable member of the Sterling Medical Center. I’m here to consult, not instruct.” The pleasant expression on Elizabeth’s face remains the same, and her voice is just as sweet. But a subtle shift in body language makes it clear she’s just delivered a rebuke.

  Elle looks at me again, this time less certain. “Oh. Well, my mistake. I’ll get going now. I hope you have a productive talk.”

  “We will.” Elizabeth smiles warmly. Once we’re alone, she extends her hand. “I’m Elizabeth Pryce-Reed.”

  I ignore her hand. I don’t want anything to do with people related to Lucas. “I know.”

  I wait for her to be upset, maybe deliver a reprimand the way she did to Elle. Instead, she drops her hand back to her side and smiles. “I like you.”

  “You don’t even know me.” I wrap my arms around myself. “If you’re here to ask me to help Lucas fulfill the conditions so you guys can get the paintings, forget it.”

  “I would never ask you to do that.”

  I snort. “Really? Why don’t I believe you?”

  She regards me quietly for a moment, and there is compassion in her gaze. “I saw you watching him with Faye.”

  My face heats. Goddamn it. The last thing I want is public humiliation. “You must’ve enjoyed the show.”

  “You care about him.”

  “What do you want me to do about it?”

  “Has he told you he loves you?”

  I can’t hold her eyes anymore. She’s seeing too far into me, and I hate that, even though I’m certain Lucas told her everything. “Don’t you know?”

  “What am I supposed to know?”

  “Didn’t he tell you how he couldn’t act well enough to convince me? ‘I’m in love with you.’” I look up and blink as my vision blurs. The memory of it still hurts. The pain is doubly bad after having seen him with Faye. “What a joke.”

  With horror, I realize I’m crying, and turn away.

  “Come on.” Elizabeth wraps an arm around me and leads me into an alcove behind a giant planter to give us some privacy. She hands me an embroidered handkerchief from her clutch. “He didn’t lie, Ava.”

  I dab at my eyes furiously. “Sure. That’s why he’s already moving on to the next candidate—”

  “He’s with her because you didn’t fight for him.”

  My hand fists around the damp handkerchief. “Oh, bullshit.”

  “I know he loves you. Otherwise he would’ve never stayed in Charlottesville or gone after you in Asia.” A beat of silence. “Where I sent him.”

  My mouth opens. I wondered why he waited so long before coming after me. To learn that it was Elizabeth’s doing—it’s the last thing I suspected. “You?”

  She nods. “I tracked you down and let him know.”

  Anger blazes through me. “You must really want those paintings.”

  “They aren’t my main concern. I want Lucas to be happy. I thought you could do that for each other.”

  “You know what people say about assuming.”

  She sighs. “I’m sorry his love wasn’t enough for you.”

  Bitterness churns inside me. It takes all my control to maintain
a somewhat civil tone. “He never loved me. It was all about those damn paintings.”

  “You couldn’t be more wrong. He never wanted to marry for them. He told us that loud and clear when our father threw that…ridiculous proposition in our faces.” Elizabeth pauses. “Has he ever hinted he wanted to marry you? Or done anything to trap you into marriage?”

  “He was working up to it. He forced me to come to the States. Got me fired at my old job.”

  Elizabeth’s mouth thins. “He’s used to getting things his way. But did he ever ask you to marry him?”

  I shake my head. “He knew I’d never say yes without some serious convincing.”

  She gazes at me somberly. “You can draw whatever conclusions you like, Ava. But don’t blame Lucas for being with another woman if you aren’t willing to fight for what you want.”

  Her words hit me like a backhand. Elizabeth has no right to lecture me like this. She’s nobody to me, and I don’t trust her motives. She might be a saint, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t want the paintings, too. “Maybe a pretty girl from a nice family doesn’t understand what it’s like for people like me, but wanting and fighting aren’t always enough.”

  Elizabeth moves forward, and I almost take a step back before I catch myself.

  “You’re awfully prejudiced, aren’t you?” she says.

  “Prejudiced?”

  “Dismissing me for my appearance and background.”

  “And what else do I have to go on? It’s presumptuous of you to act like you know me, and I don’t believe you’re on my side.”

  “I know you—and your circumstances—far better than you think. Including your daughter.”

  It’s like she’s thrown a bucket of iced water over me. Is this a threat—that she’ll take my child away? I’d never be able to stop Lucas’s family. They’re too powerful, too connected. “I don’t have a daughter.” I manage to force the words out through numb lips.

  Elizabeth sighs, letting her shoulders droop for a second before straightening again. “Because you gave her away. You shouldn’t have. We would’ve taken her in.”

  “No, you wouldn’t.” I throw the handkerchief at her.

  She lets it drop to the floor, over her stilettos.

  “And there’s no reason for you to ‘take her in’. She’s not Lucas’s,” I say firmly.

  I start walking away. Her gaze on my back feels like a knife digging between my shoulder blades. My hands are shaking again, and I make fists so she won’t see how badly I’m reacting. How does Elizabeth know about Mia?

  I stop at the revolving door leading outside—I don’t even remember how I got there—and turn around. Elizabeth is gone.

  Chapter Eleven

  Lucas

  I pull away from Faye as the limo door closes behind us. “Did you get the reaction you wanted?”

  “Oh yes. My snotty little ex is probably drying his tears on his tux sleeves.” She smiles. “Thank you.”

  “My pleasure.”

  A revenge kiss is the least I can do. She’s being a good sport about coming to the opening at the last minute. Contrary to what I’ve repeatedly told myself, I’m not in the right frame of the mind to be good company to some strange woman at a function I don’t really want to attend.

  And being at the opening has put more of a damper on my mood than I expected. I kept thinking about what Ava said about her life while growing up. So poor she never went to the hospital unless she felt like she was dying.

  That memory is the reason I cut the evening short. I’m not like Ryder, who can fake his way through anything for days if necessary.

  “You look tired,” Faye says.

  “A little.”

  “Come up to my suite. You can stretch out and have a drink.”

  I smile wanly at her cheery tone. “Okay.”

  The limo ride to her hotel doesn’t take much time. The hotel doorman rushes over, and we climb out together. Her suite is on the top floor. The living room is sizable and elegantly furnished with ivory leather couches and contemporary tables—exactly the type of interior she prefers. Through the open door I see that a huge four-poster bed with a translucent canopy dominates the bedroom.

  I take a seat on the biggest couch and rest my left foot on the ottoman, relieving the tension in the leg. Faye goes to the minibar and brings out two glasses of whiskey. Tucking her feet underneath her, she sits next to me and nestles closer. I let an arm drape around her and absentmindedly caress her bare shoulder as I knock the whiskey back. Her dress is cut low to accentuate her cleavage and show her trim back. She has the kind of body I like—big tits and a nicely curved pelvis and ass. Right now she’s pressing her breasts against me, and I wait…

  Her hand cups my cheek, and she shifts so she can place her mouth over mine. Although there’s no ex of hers watching, I kiss her back, my fingers tunneling into her inky hair. Her tongue outlines my lips. I wait…

  She makes a hum of pleasure, the sound vibrating through our fused mouths. I wait…

  And…

  Nothing.

  Nothing stirs inside me. My body doesn’t care what she’s doing. It stays inert and cold, my dick totally uninterested.

  If I hadn’t fucked Ava just a few weeks ago, I’d be more than a little worried. I’m too young for this…deadening.

  Faye pulls back, a question in her eyes. “You okay?”

  I stand and get another finger of whiskey. “Just a little tired.”

  She gets up and rubs the tightness in my shoulders. “You’ll feel better once you rest a bit.”

  Her eyes are slumberous, her touch coaxing.

  If I put my dirty hands on Faye, will she pull away? If I tell her I love her, will she call me toxic in response?

  I’m tempted to try.

  “Lucas?” Faye says, her eyebrows pinched. “You sure you’re all right?”

  “Yes. I’m fine.” I rub my forehead. What the hell am I thinking? Tell her “I love you” just to see how she’ll react? That’s fucked up.

  You are fucked up. No better than your mother.

  “I should go,” I say. “I have an early call tomorrow morning.”

  “But it’s Saturday.”

  “Yeah, but startups don’t do the nine-to-five, Monday-through-Friday thing.”

  She reaches out and holds my hand. “You don’t have to pretend with me. Rebounds can be hard. I know.”

  I look at her, a little stunned, but don’t say anything.

  “Oh, come on. We were lovers. I know you.” She tugs and places my hand at the small of her back. “If you’re worried about finding someone to marry for the paintings, don’t be. I’m happy to help out.”

  “Faye…” I shake my head. “You saw the interviews and Elliot’s tweets, right?”

  “Uh-huh. And you know what was funny? Not one of them outright denied it.”

  Shit. Faye’s always been smart. That’s how she clawed herself out of poverty and became what she is now.

  “We may be exes, but I’m also your friend,” she continues. “I don’t want to see you lose to that bastard. And yes, your dad is a complete bastard. Don’t expect me to apologize for telling the truth.”

  Despite myself, I smile. I should just say yes. Marrying Faye would be ideal—she’s smart, beautiful and we’ve known each other long enough that we can lie about how we fell in love to maintain the public façade about the deal.

  And it’d knock two items off the objectives list.

  But somehow I can’t. My head urges me to commit, but my tongue refuses to cooperate. “Let me think about it,” I manage.

  I leave the suite before she can say anything else. My left leg throbs wildly, as though to remind me about the scars. Will Faye be as tender with them as Ava? The kisses…caresses…

  My jaw clenches. None of that meant anything to her. I’m the idiot who gave it a significance that didn’t exist.

  As the elevator descends to the lobby, I rest the back of my head against the wall. What the he
ll am I doing?

  Rejecting Faye isn’t me getting over Ava and moving on. It’s me being stupid and evading the issue.

  Don’t let Ava ruin everything.

  When the elevator pings open, I cross the lobby and climb inside the waiting limo.

  Tomorrow. I will call Faye tomorrow and say yes.

  Chapter Twelve

  Lucas

  “You look like shit.”

  I bury my head under the pillow. Blake’s voice sounds like a thousand thunderclaps. Didn’t Geraldine teach him how to use his indoor voice?

  “…smell like shit, too.”

  “Go away.” I’d rather stay in this lumpy and uncomfortable bed than risk death by getting up.

  “Sorry. We have a brunch to attend.”

  What the hell? “Nobody eats brunch at the crack of dawn.”

  “It’s ten, you idiot.”

  There’s a zipping sound by the windows, and light penetrates my eyeballs like a death laser.

  “Are you trying to kill me?” I groan.

  “It’d serve you right. You drank all my good stuff.”

  “Your liquor found it an honor to be drunk.”

  “Savored, maybe. Not guzzled until you pass out like a lobotomized fool in the middle of the living room. Now get up.”

  Ugh. I carefully open my eyes into slits and look around. I’m in the living room, and my bed is actually a couch. Four whiskey bottles sit on the table, empty. I don’t remember drinking quite that much, but…maybe I did. I was in a bad place last night after returning from Faye’s hotel. I don’t even know why. I’m usually in a better mood after making a decision, and I decided to marry her for a year. It’s completely logical, and will solve a couple of my most immediate problems.

  Must’ve been celebratory drinking…except I obviously took it too far.

  “I’ll replace the damned whiskey,” I rasp. “Go away.”

  “Can’t. We’re meeting Elizabeth in less than an hour. I’m giving you a chance to get dressed and pull your shit together.”

  Damn it. This is why I don’t like being around my siblings. They don’t know when to stop. “Does it look like I’m in any condition to eat?” The very idea of food makes my stomach roil.