“It’s okay, I know you’re in a hurry.” Jamar thumbed behind him. “I’ll clean up the kitchen for you.”
“Are you sure?” God, that would be a relief. She could get Sammi out and away from here.
“Anything for my boo.”
She handed the key back to Jamar. “Thanks. I’ll be back in a day or two, I’m sure.”
Autumn stepped into the kitchen, grabbed a plastic bag and shoved the books into it. Dealing with Jake, ever again, was not on her list of things to do. She glanced at Sammi, who seemed to have stopped bleeding, and her stomach knotted even tighter.
“How’s the nose?” she asked.
“It’s stopped bleeding. How’s it look?” His gaze locked with hers and she sucked in a breath.
“Good. You missed some here.” She took the napkin and daubed at his cheek. “There. Ready to go?”
“Hey, I’d kind of like—”
“I know, but in the car? Please?”
Sammi’s brows drew down into a line. “Fine.”
“Thank you.” She breathed a sigh of relief and turned toward the silent shadow behind her. “You sure you don’t mind cleaning this up?”
“Not at all, boo.”
“We’ll have to have a pizza date sometime.”
“I’d like that. Bye, Autumn.”
Autumn ducked out of the apartment, glancing both ways for any sign of Jake, but finding nothing. Sammi followed her, closing the door behind him and spreading his hands as if to ask, Now?
She leaned against the wall and blew out a breath. “Jake stuff upsets Jamar.”
“Oh.” Sammi’s face relaxed. “And Jamar is?”
“My neighbor.” She thumbed at the apartment across the breezeway. “Sammi, I am so sorry. Really, I’m so, so sorry.”
Sammi’s face creased again, lines marring his brow and a frown where only a smile should be. “I’m not sure what you’re apologizing about. That asshole is the one who should be begging you to accept his apology.”
“But he hit you, and all because of me.” Anxiety twisted her throat around until it was hard to breathe.
“I don’t care that he hit me, and I’m glad I hit his punk face. No one will ever talk about my wife like that.” Sammi stepped into her space and she retreated until she hit the brick wall. He caged her, a hand at either shoulder. “You’re amazing, and I will not stand for some idiot who didn’t recognize the wonderful woman you are to trash you. It’s not happening.”
The vise grip on her windpipe eased and she sucked in a deep breath. Her whole body felt a little tingly and her heart was doing dangerous, fluttering things.
Holy crap, her husband just beat up someone because of her.
“I’m still sorry it happened,” she said.
“Why? It’s not like you called and told him we were dropping by, did you?”
“No.”
“Good. Get everything you need?”
“Yeah.”
Sammi leaned in, slanting his mouth over hers, kissing her deep, thrusting his tongue into her mouth and pulling her against him. She was breathless by the time he stepped back, giving her space.
“Remember how you wanted to do sex in a car?” Something about the caveman act had her motor revved and ready to go.
“Fuck me, I wish there was time.” He rested his forehead against hers, a cheeky smile curling his lips. “I have a meeting and now I need to go home and change.”
She twined her arm around his neck. “And you can’t reschedule?”
“Client flew in from St. Louis.”
“I hate how responsible you are right now.”
“You and me both, Sunshine.” He squeezed her ass and buzzed her lips with a quick kiss. “Come on.”
Sammi led her down to the SUV and, after a long kiss, closed the door not a moment too soon.
* * * * *
Autumn slid out of the SUV, flicking her skirt up enough to show her husband a little cheek, just a glimpse of what he was going to miss thanks to a meeting.
Sammi groaned from the driver’s-side seat.
She flashed him a smile over her shoulder and hefted her bag higher. As much as she hated this whole responsible streak, she was at work with five minutes to spare before opening.
“I’m getting a piece of that tonight,” Sammi called after her.
“Just remember, you’re the one that made you wait that long.” She closed the door with a smile and slipped in the back entrance of So Inked.
Autumn heard Kellie and a male voice that sounded like her boyfriend Quin’s talking in the office. Autumn passed them without a word and dropped her bags on the ground at her station. Mary was flipping through a notebook and Carly was in the process of unlocking the front door.
There was something about watching her husband wipe the floor with Jake that had amped her up. She fired off an appropriately naughty text to him and wondered if propositioning him for car sex during lunch was going too far.
“Morning, Autumn,” Carly called over her shoulder.
“Hey.” Autumn shook her head and pulled herself back into reality. She watched Carly out of the corner of her eye. They were all protective over Carly. She’d become something like a little sister to each of them, and just like family they could be smothering. At this stage in Carly’s recovery she needed to learn independence.
Carly didn’t need a hand opening the shop. She’d been doing it for months since Mary’s son Sam quit. Autumn missed the moody teenager, but Carly fit in better with them.
Autumn sank into her chair and glanced at her phone. The text icon made her smile, but Sammi’s text had her nipples tingling.
Cocktails and cock? I’m in. All the way. Is that how you like it?
You know it.
“Did you see the new ride?” Carly rolled to a stop at the edge of Autumn’s station, a wide grin on her face.
Autumn glanced up from her phone, tilting it up to hide the X-rated texts. “I totally did. Loving this whole X-Men Roguething with the white streak in the front.” Autumn sat in her chair and leaned forward, propping her elbows on her knees. “I was thinking we could take it for a spin during lunch. Maybe swing by Empress of China?”
“Thanks.” Carly glanced away, her grin turning bashful. “Maybe. I have been wanting some egg rolls.”
“Mm, yeah. Egg rolls.” Autumn winked at the younger woman.
“Oh my god, how do you make everything sexual?” Carly flipped up the hood on her hoodie and covered her face with her hands.
“Who said anything about sex? I just thought biting into a nice big, juicy egg roll sounded like a great idea.” Autumn chuckled and grabbed the plastic bag with her books.
“Okay, but it’ll have to be either an early or late lunch.” Carly pushed her chair forward and back in a seemingly subconscious habit she’d developed over the last few months.
“Early. Just thinking about egg rolls has me hungry.”
“You going to Empress?” Kellie stopped and leaned against the wall, her gaze conspicuously on Carly. Seemed Autumn hadn’t yet been forgiven.
“Um, yeah. We were thinking about it,” Carly replied.
“Cool. Could you drop off my RSVP card with Jacob? I forgot to mail it in and the wedding is this weekend.” Kellie rolled her eyes as the phone in the office rang. “I’ll get you the card.” She abandoned them for the phone.
Autumn glanced at Carly, whose face had gone pale and stony. Despite Kellie’s warnings, Carly had fallen for Jacob, and Autumn couldn’t blame her. But he was marrying the woman of his family’s dreams that weekend.
“Maybe we should get a burger instead?” Autumn suggested.
Carly shrugged and pivoted on one wheel without saying anything.
Love was one tough bitch.
Chapter Twelve
Eyebrow Piercing—A hoop, straight or curved barbell that goes under the line of the eyebrow.
Tamara lifted the receiver to her face, annoyed at the interruption, but the housekeeper had
said it was urgent. “Hello?”
“Mrs. Zimmerman, hi. It’s Christine.”
Tamara paused. She knew the girl’s mother from the temple. Good family, solid lineage and devout. But why on earth was Sammi’s secretary calling her?
“Yes?” Tamara said when Christine did not speak.
“I know this is unusual, but, well, I saw something and I thought you should know.”
Samuel’s secrets came to mind. What did she know?
“Go on,” Tamara said.
“There were some pictures emailed to Sammi—Samuel—today, and, well, I’m not sure if you know—”
“That my son married a Whore of Babylon?” She was very aware of the tarnishing mark on their reputation.
“Yes.”
“And what are these photographs of?”
Christine paused. “Their wedding.”
Tamara’s vision hazed red. “Bring them to me.”
“Yes ma’am.”
* * * * *
Sammi’s phone dinged and his dick pulsed.
This is getting out of control.
He couldn’t deny the surge of anticipation that danced along his nerves as he reached for his phone instead of reading the next round of emails. Whatever they had to say wouldn’t be anywhere near as interesting.
Are you horny yet?
Sammi glanced at the clock and groaned. It was only a few minutes past noon and already he wanted to be home. Inside his wife. There was no way he was getting away from work until after six, and Autumn worked until ten.
Not willingly. Ten hours until you can do something about that.
He clicked Send and turned back to his computer. What had begun earlier that morning with her asking how he was doing had devolved over the last few hours to creatively snapped pictures of her hip crossed with a thin strap, graphic texts of what she wanted to do to him and coy insinuations about what she wanted.
Basically, he was a lucky man.
The phone vibrated and he had it in his hand before the tone ended.
More than willing to help you out. What do you prefer? Hands, mouth or pussy?
“Shit,” he muttered, adjusting the crotch of his trousers.
I have to choose?
The door to his office swung open. He sat up abruptly so the desk covered his growing erection and dropped the phone into his lap.
“Samuel, we have to talk about this marriage business. You simply could not have gotten a legal marriage. What did this hussy rope you into?” His mother breezed in and stopped at the edge of his desk, staring down her nose at him. Despite her polished exterior, every silver hair in place, her lavender suit perfectly pressed, there was a wildness in her gaze that worried him.
“Mom, calm down.” He glanced over her shoulder at his secretary Christine standing in the doorway, perfectly serene. And probably the source of this outburst. The wedding pictures had landed in his inbox earlier and she had access to his main account. “Close the door, will you?”
Christine closed the door slowly. Sammi would have to watch her.
“Mom, please sit down. Have you had lunch yet? I was going to order something from the deli and have it delivered.”
“Don’t distract me, Samuel. We must talk about this wedding nonsense.” She sat in one of the guest chairs and placed her purse in the other.
“Okay, what would you like to talk about?” His phone dinged with another message and he shifted in his seat.
“You cannot be married.” She leaned forward in her chair, voice rising. “Where was the rabbi? Where was I?”
This was a mess. He’d wanted to avoid exactly this at all costs. Inwardly he groaned and tried to figure out how to explain to his conservative mother he wasn’t going to play by her rules.
Sammi folded his hands atop the desk. “The ceremony was performed by a rabbi. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before, but we eloped. We didn’t tell anyone.”
“Samuel, people do not do these things.”
“Not everyone, Mom, just me.” He pulled the deli menu from his drawer. “Do you want anything?”
“Water for my tea.” She patted her cheeks.
“Anything else?”
“No. How can you eat at a time like this?”
He could only assume that she meant his marital status and not the hour.
Sammi picked up the phone and instructed his secretary to order for both of them.
“I’m guessing Christine called you this morning?” He didn’t have time to drag this visit out. Not with as much time as he’d piddled away sexting his wife.
“Yes, she said this woman looks like a—a—a—”
“A tattoo artist?” He was going to have to rip this Band-Aid off.
“What?” Her eyes grew round.
“Let me show you some pictures from the wedding, Mom.” Sammi pulled up the files and turned his monitor so she could see the progression of the ceremony.
He flipped through the images, which showed the afternoon spent getting ready, setting up, each of them dressing, the ceremony and a collection of posed and candid pictures the photographers had snapped all evening. He’d gone through them a few times since receiving them, but he was again transported back into those magical moments. He could almost hear the ocean, smell the flowers and remember the rush of awe, wonder and adoration that had gone through him those first few seconds he’d seen Autumn.
The camera loved Autumn. Her smile, the dimples—she was radiant and unique.
“Samuel, this woman cannot be your wife. Look what she did to herself.” His mother’s eyes were large, disgust twisting her face into an ugly mask.
How could they look at the same person and see such different things?
Had his mother always been so judgmental of other people?
“Yes, she has a lot of tattoos, Mom. She’s a tattoo artist. It’s her job to tattoo people. She’s a lovely person.” He turned the monitor back around with more force than necessary. Anyone else he’d have told to go fuck themselves, but he couldn’t tell his mother that. She’d been through enough.
She shook her head. “No, this cannot be so, Son. We will talk to the rabbi, get it annulled.”
The phone dinged with yet another text message taunting him.
“I am not getting an annulment. Or a divorce,” he snapped. His mother gasped. Shit, what am I doing? “Mom, just meet her, please?”
She pulled a small, worn wooden box from her purse and he could have groaned.
“Mom, enough with the tea. I’ll bring Autumn by Sunday and we can all get to know each other. We’re going to Aaron and Michael’s Shabbat tomorrow night.”
This was a disaster in the making, but the train had already left the station.
* * * * *
Sammi took Autumn’s hand in his and closed the car door. She twitched the skirt of her dress. They’d spent almost an hour going through her clothes until she found something she was comfortable in and that he thought would work for Shabbat dinner. Together they’d settled on the pink dress he’d had her try on at her apartment. Realistically he should have just given her his credit card and told her to go buy something, but clothing had been the last thing on his mind. He was a lot more interested in getting her out of the clothes.
“These people—”
“They’re not like us, I know. You’ve warned me about a thousand times that they’re going to have pitchforks and fire ready for me.” She fidgeted with her necklace and the hem of her dress.
“They’re not quite that bad. You look fine.” Sammi pulled her arm and together they walked up the path to the front door of a large, bordering on mini-mansion brick home.
“Fine is just fine. I was hoping for something better than that.” Autumn’s voice was strained, stressed. At first she’d approached tonight with her usual cheerfulness, but she seemed to have picked up on his unease.
Sammi rang the doorbell and peeked through the glass. It appeared there was a full house tonight. The door swung inward, held by
a young man in dark-gray slacks and a vivid blue button-down shirt.
“Sammi,” Aaron spoke to him, but his gaze was all over Autumn.
“Hi, Aaron.” Sammi kept his grip on Autumn’s hand while he gave Aaron a one-armed hug. “Autumn, this is Aaron. Aaron, this is my wife, Autumn.”
Aaron’s well-manicured brows lifted only slightly. “Your wife? What a lucky man. Please, come in.” His smarmy smile made Sammi want to punch him, but Aaron had always been a bit of a prick.
“Thanks for having us,” Autumn said with a smile and even a glimpse of dimple. She’d worn her chunky glasses, which made him think naughty librarian. But then everything about Autumn turned him on.
Aaron gestured toward the party space. “Come in and meet everyone. We just lit the candles. Would you care for some wine?”
Acquaintances and social friends called out greetings as they passed, following their host toward the kitchen and entertaining area. Sammi had partied with a number of those present, but none of them were true friends. He’d have a drink with them, go to temple, but by and large he couldn’t trust them.
Why was he here again?
Oh right. Avoiding his mother.
Brothers Aaron and Michael lived alone, which was reflected by the home. Modern lines, minimalistic furniture that was more flashy than useful. It wasn’t as if the brothers did much besides work and party. Unlike Sammi’s family, theirs had escaped Iran with a considerable sum of money just before the war.
“Why do I get the feeling everyone knew we were coming?” Autumn whispered through clenched teeth, her smile fully in place.
Christine.
“I don’t know,” he replied. “I have a bad feeling about this.”
“Not that bad, remember?” she quipped.
As they rounded the corner into the open space that looked more like a swanky club than a kitchen and living room, Sammi glimpsed a familiar profile.
“Shit,” he muttered.
“What?”
“My secretary is here.” There wasn’t technically anything wrong with Christine telling people he was attending tonight with his wife, but he doubted anything she had to say would be complimentary to Autumn. Maybe it was time to allocate her resources somewhere elsewhere.
HisMarriageBargain Page 17
