by Ravenna Tate
“Yes. We’ll do that. Are you comfortable waiting until morning? I mean for appearance’s sake, of course. The date on the papers. People will wonder why we transferred the business on our wedding day.”
Oh. Duh. She should have thought of that. “Yes. That makes sense.”
“Thank you. We need to get downstairs.” He held out his arm. “Also for appearance’s sake.”
Only for that, nothing more. The kisses, the lustful looks, they were all for the cameras. Everything was back to business and putting on a show. She’d have to do the same.
Lynda took his arm, wishing doing so didn’t send another spark coursing through her body. But who could blame her? He was gorgeous and charming. She hadn’t expected that, anymore than she’d expected to be aroused by his touch or his kiss.
She’d have deal with her emotions later because right now, it was time to play the happy bride.
****
Lynda’s head ached by the third toast. She didn’t know any of his groomsmen, and thought his best man, Jason Brenner, was an obnoxious loud mouth. If she heard silverware tapping crystal one more time she was going to scream. As arousing as kissing Merrick was, doing it time after time in a room full of people whistling and calling for them to keep going was more than she could handle.
The memories of finding the email and all those videos were coming fast and furious now. And, for the first time in years, the memories of what her uncles had done to her at age fifteen plagued her as well.
She tried to hold the past at bay, but the longer the reception dragged on, the more difficult it became. Merrick wasn’t Rey, and he wasn’t one of her uncles. The only cameras here were the ones capturing them smiling, eating, and kissing every time someone started tapping on a glass.
She ate less and drank more than she should have, so by the time they were ushered over by André to cut the cake, Lynda had trouble walking on her three-inch heels. It would be the perfect ending to this shitty day if she tripped and fell in front of the TV cameras. André was already pissed off about everything. If she stumbled on top of all that, he was likely to burst a blood vessel.
Merrick leaned in close and whispered in her ear, “Let’s not smash it in each other’s faces, okay?”
She nodded. “André would kill us if we did.”
The corners of his mouth turned up briefly, but she didn’t have to know him well to see he was still bothered by something. What the hell had she done wrong? His entire demeanor in her bedroom had changed as soon as she’d brought up transferring the company, but she didn’t understand why. That’s why he’d married her. To get the business.
Some of the guests protested when they each daintily put a piece of the cake into the other’s mouth, and Jason actually called them pussies. Wonderful. That will make a nice sound bite for the morning news. She cut her gaze toward André, and was seriously worried the man was going to have a stroke.
As soon as they were able to get away from the cake, and after they’d each had a small piece, Merrick called André over and asked him to have the band warm up. Lynda was grateful. She wanted to get the awkward first dance with her husband out of the way before the booze made her any clumsier.
Of course he was an amazing dancer. She’d have expected nothing less. He moved her across the floor, his hand warm in hers. His opposite hand held her just close enough by the waist to guide her, and she was able to easily follow his lead. It felt as if they’d danced together for years.
It also felt so normal to be dancing with this man that Lynda had to blink back tears again. Reality was finally beginning to set in. She was married. To a man she didn’t even know. All for the sake of a business her father and uncles had run into the ground.
That was crazy enough to accept as her life now, but the bigger surprise was her arousal. She hadn’t thought it possible to feel that way again. How ironic was that? For the first time in three years she started thinking about sex, only it was with a man who married her for the company she now owned. Nothing more.
Lynda forced a smile to her face as cameras flashed. She had to hold it together for a few more hours, and then she could have a nice hard cry. Alone in her lush bedroom, on her wedding night.
Chapter Four
Merrick took some ibuprofen as soon as he went into his room. He didn’t need to wake up with a headache. He had work to do tomorrow. He opened his laptop and sent an email to Jimmy Landers, his lead accountant, and copied Dean Masters, his lead attorney, letting them know Lynda had agreed to take care of the paperwork in the morning. He wanted to be sure everything was in place for the transfer. Merrick didn’t like surprises, especially when it came to business dealings.
He had meant to ask Lynda whether she expected or wanted sex to be part of this marriage, and he had meant to ask why she’d seemed afraid of him in the park. But once she’d mentioned the transfer, he hadn’t felt like bringing up the question of her fearful reaction, or whether they might have sex one day. A man’s ego could only take so many hits in one conversation.
Sure, she was a beautiful woman. She was a great kisser, a graceful dancer, and she’d put on one hell of a show today, which meant her word could be trusted. He should march in there right now and demand what was rightfully his—her body. But he was fucking exhausted and his head hurt like a damn bear. He didn’t want to force himself on her, and he didn’t want to make any assumptions.
She wasn’t in this for him, and he was in it for the company. But that didn’t mean they couldn’t fuck. He wasn’t going to see other women, and as far as he knew, she wasn’t planning on cheating on him. What he really needed to do was go in there and discuss the terms of this arrangement, like he’d intended to do earlier. The sooner he asked, the sooner he could stop rolling it around in his head.
Merrick took a quick shower then put on sweatpants and a hoodie. He lay on the soft bed and closed his eyes. As soon as his head stopped hurting, he’d insist on having the talk with her. If he was stuck in this sham of a marriage, he at least wanted to know if his pretty wife wanted to have sex.
Holding her in his arms and dancing had been wonderful. She’d gazed into his eyes, and easily followed his lead. Merrick was certain the reporters had been fooled. Never had he imagined he’d have to do something like this to get his hands on a company, but Shelton Energy was the cream of the crop. He’d had his eye on it for over a decade, and marrying Lynda seemed a small price to pay to have it.
It’s not like his love life, or his sex life for that matter, was so damn exciting he hadn’t wanted to give up either one. At least the tabloids would have to find something else to write about besides his casual flings. Having a wife would help his image.
His marriage to Theresa had never made the tabloids because thirteen years ago, no one had given a shit about Merrick Dalton. Everything he’d accomplished in business, and everything the press seemed interested in, had happened after her death. If someone dug deep enough they’d find about her, but no one had so far. They only cared what he did with companies, and which woman he was spotted out with, and at what event.
Now, they could write about him out at events with Lynda. Merrick frowned. He had considered the media might go digging because this wedding was so sudden and unexpected. Dean had assured him he’d buried the details of his marriage to Theresa and her death so deeply that it would be very difficult to find them, but Merrick knew they weren’t gone forever. Even Dean couldn’t work magic.
Her death hadn’t even made the papers. Dean had seen to that. But court records existed. Death certificates existed. The evidence was out there for anyone to find. Those facts hadn’t bothered Merrick in quite a while, but now he was married again, and it was inevitable someone would go digging.
He allowed his mind to wander back to his first wedding day. He’d been so full of hope, and he was already on his way to becoming successful in business. He had the world at his fingertips. He avoided the media, and stayed under the radar. Until she was murdered. Afte
r he’d taken care of the men responsible, everything changed for him. It was as if those acts constituted a deal with the devil. He’d been unstoppable, and the press had eaten it up.
Or had the impetus for his hard-nose tactics in business been the murder of his wife? No. He’d always been like that, but Theresa had softened him. Once she was dead, he had no reason to show any mercy, or take pity on anyone. Until now, that was. Now he had a wife again. Would it change him once more? Would he become soft in business, or would the underlying anger he felt at being forced into this make him even more determined to succeed?
What would Theresa think of this marriage to Lynda? Would she hate him for it, or would she want him to be happy, no matter what it took? Merrick would never know. He only knew one thing right now that was a certainty. He was finally going to get a chance to turn Shelton Energy around.
****
Merrick woke with a start. Where the hell was he? Oh yeah. The hotel. This was his wedding night. Perfect start to it. Alone in his bed, falling asleep because he’d drunk too much at the reception, and his patience had been tested to its limits. At least his headache was gone.
He crawled out of bed and brushed his teeth. Should have done that before falling asleep. Then he glanced at the clock. It was just after two. Was Lynda still awake? He doubted it, but they needed to talk. He wouldn’t get any peace from the conflicting thoughts in his head until they did.
Merrick knocked softly on her door but heard nothing, so he opened it slowly. The room was bathed in soft light. She’d left one of the tiny lamps on the dresser lit, but she was curled up on the bed with no covers over her. She wore only a silky camisole and matching panties, both white, like her wedding dress. The innocence of that look made his dick jump to attention.
He scanned the room. Her veil was bunched up on the chair where they’d left the train earlier, and the dress was a messy heap on another chair. How she’d managed to get it off herself was beyond him. Had she knocked on his door for help while he’d been asleep? What a shit he was. He’d left his wife alone in another room on their wedding night.
Merrick’s gaze fell across his sleeping bride again. Her hair was damp. Had she showered like he had? And then put on her underwear again? Why? Her suitcase was open on the luggage stand, but he didn’t know what she’d brought with her. For all he knew, she slept in a camisole and panties every night. He was married to this woman, and he didn’t know shit about her.
He toenails were painted, and he realized the color matched the one on her fingernails. She’d gone to a lot of trouble for this shindig. Her face without makeup was even prettier, and as he watched the gentle rise and fall of her body, his gaze lingered on the curve of her breasts, visible above the camisole.
She’d done all this to look pretty on her wedding day and her wedding night. Would a woman who was only doing this for money and social standing go to such trouble for a man she didn’t even know? Then again, she knew she’d have her picture taken. Was that why she’d done it, and none of it had been to impress him after all?
It wasn’t the first time today that Todd’s explanation of why Lynda had married him didn’t ring true. Merrick didn’t like feeling unsure about anything, but he wasn’t certain his ego could handle it if he simply asked her what the real truth was and she repeated her father’s words.
Enough with this shit. Seriously. This wasn’t like him at all. It was time to have that talk and find out what the fuck was really going on.
****
Lynda woke to the unmistakable sensation of someone stroking the side of her breast through her camisole. She caught a faint whiff of cologne, and couldn’t remember where she’d smelled it before, but then it all clicked.
Merrick. That was Merrick’s cologne. And he’d worn it on their wedding day. Wedding day … holy fuck. I’m married to Merrick!
She sat up so suddenly they bumped heads. Lynda tried not to laugh, but the look on his face was far too humorous for her to hold it in. Once she started, so did he, and then they both tried to apologize at the same time. That forced more laughter from her, until he cupped her face and gazed at her with unbridled lust in his dark eyes.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
“As long as my headache doesn’t return.”
“You had a headache?”
“Yes. But it’s gone now.”
She swore he was about to kiss her, but then the expression in his eyes changed and he released her face. Lynda felt the impression of his warm hand on her skin still, and she missed the physical contact. Every moment from the wedding and reception came rushing back, including the kiss in the park. She felt compelled suddenly to explain to him why she had been afraid, but he was speaking already.
“We need to talk about the terms of this arrangement.”
“Terms?” Arrangement? As in business arrangement. The elation she’d felt waking up to realize he was seated next to her on the bed, and had been stroking her in such an intimate way was now gone. Had she imagined that? Had she dreamed it?
“Yes. We both know why we did this so I won’t insult either of us by asking for clarification. What’s done is done. But the media will be watching, and they will have certain expectations. I thought it was a good idea we define our own expectations of each other, so each time we’re out in public, we appear to be on the same page.”
You mean so that it appears we’re a happily married couple. “That makes sense.” She scooted back against the headboard and hugged her knees to her chest. She was in her underwear, and he looked sexy as hell in a hoodie and sweatpants. If the circumstances had been different, this would be very cozy and romantic.
“One of the companies that makes up Dalton Enterprises is a foundation that gives to multiple charities, and I’m on the board of a few as well. You will be expected to accompany me to fundraising events. You’ll have access to a stylist, a new dress for each event, salon appointments anytime you want them, and everything else you need.”
Lynda couldn’t speak. Her mind whirled with the images of being fitted for couture, having regular manicures and pedicures, plus having to smile for the cameras and make small talk at fundraisers and dinners. She’d always had the opportunity to participate in all that, but had avoided it like the plague. Now, she’d be forced to become part of that circle, and with a man she barely knew.
“Is this acceptable?” he asked.
“Do I have a choice?”
He frowned, but it wasn’t an angry frown. He was confused. “Lynda, I don’t understand you. I realize you’ve shied away from all that before, and I won’t pretend to know why, but when you agreed to this marriage surely you knew this would be part of it.”
“Yes. I knew. I just hadn’t given it a great deal of thought in terms of what it would mean.” She sounded like an idiot, but if she launched into too detailed an explanation, she risked spilling her secrets.
“You put on a fabulous show at the reception. All you have to do is repeat it each time we go out.”
It hadn’t all been for show, but telling him that now was pointless. “I’ll make sure you look good, Merrick.”
“Your tone of voice makes it sound like you won’t enjoy it.”
“Maybe I will. I enjoyed the reception after a while.”
He narrowed his eyes slightly, like he wasn’t sure whether to believe her. “I did, too. So you see? We can do this.”
“All right. Then I agree to those terms. Is there anything else?” Like sex, perhaps?
“One more thing.”
Her heart raced as the lust returned to his eyes. Was she ready to try this again? What if she did, and it was a disaster? What if he insisted on knowing what had happened to her? “What is it?”
He gave her a long, searching look, then caressed her arm. Shivers ran up and down Lynda’s spine, and she couldn’t stop the soft moan in time. His eyes softened, and the corners of his mouth turned up. She had given herself away with that moan, and he knew it. She saw it on his
face. No sense in pretending she wasn’t aroused.
“Can’t you guess?” he asked, his voice dripping with hot desire. That voice could melt the coldest heart. It sent a nice warm, tingling sensation spreading through her body, straight to her clit. Lynda had to swallow hard against the sudden lump in her throat.
Years of loneliness, fear, pain, and humiliation bubbled up. She was so fucking sick of it. All of it. She was tired of hiding, and she was tired of feeling like she’d never have a sexual encounter that wasn’t tainted or forced. This man was now her husband. He wouldn’t film them and then email the clips to anyone, and he wouldn’t force her to fuck him. If that was his intention, she wouldn’t have fallen asleep alone in this bed earlier.
“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, I can guess. I wasn’t sure…” She wasn’t sure of what? That he wanted to have sex with her? That he intended to be faithful, even if they didn’t have sex? So many questions, but if she started firing them off now, the spell would be broken.
“I wasn’t sure whether you wanted this, Lynda.” His hand moved from her arm to her collarbone, brushing across it lightly until her pussy was soaking wet. At the same time, the memories were coming fast and furious once again.
No! No! No! Why couldn’t she make them go away, just for one night? This was her wedding night! Angry frustration built until Lynda wanted to scream.
He was watching her carefully, and when he pulled his hand away, his face turned into that cold, distant mask again. She let out a shaky breath. Tears stung her eyes, and she blinked them away.
“Lynda, this is ridiculous. What the hell is going on? I’ve been getting mixed signals all day. Do you want sex to be part of this arrangement or not? We need to talk about this. Why are you afraid of me? I won’t hurt you, but I need to know what you want and expect from me.”
Tears spilled over at the frustration and confusion in his voice. She couldn’t hold them back any longer. “Stop calling it an arrangement, for starters.”
“That’s what it is.”
