by Tessa Teevan
“Dude, did you hear that?” Knox says after a beat of silence.
I strain my ears to hear whatever it was that caught his attention. As soon as I hear the screeching voice of my ex-wife, I mutter out a curse and start to move forward, but Knox holds my arm and stops me.
“You’ll probably just make it worse. Let’s see how this plays out. I have a feeling your woman’s strong enough to handle Megan on her own.”
Peering towards the front porch, I see my past and my present squaring off, and as the scene unfolds, I realize that he’s right. At the moment, it’s my present who seems to be winning out. That is until my ex-wife gets in her face, and I know I have to step in.
“I shouldn’t leave her to deal with Megan alone.”
But before I can tear my arm out of Knox’s grasp, I hear Megan’s spewing vicious bullshit to Ariana about how I don't really love her, she'll never be enough for me, and—my personal favorite—I should be hers. I see Ariana stiffen, but instead of backing down, her fist comes out and connects with Megan’s jaw.
I’m stopped in my tracks, both in awe and in shock.
“Holy shit,” Knox expresses, his voice laced with admiration. “That was fucking awesome.”
“Dude, I’m so fucking hard right now,” I blurt out loud, and his chuckle reminds me of his presence. “Did she really just do that?”
“TMI, dickhead. Damn, bro, you need to get Ariana in the ring with Charlie. Imagine how hot that’d be.”
Turning towards him, I raise a brow. “Really? You want me to imagine your wife and my fiancée in the ring, straddling each other?”
“Good point. Mind out of the fucking gutter, Branson,” he says with a smirk.
Just as I look back at the porch, I see Megan holding her cheek, backing away from Ariana, whose fists are balled at her sides, just waiting for another chance. “You’re going to pay for that,” Megan hisses, leaning closer as she lowers her voice to say something else I can’t hear.
Ariana steps forward, and I almost laugh out loud when Megan shrinks back. “Stay the hell away from me, Branson, and his family. No one here wants you, and all you’re doing is embarrassing yourself.”
Holy fuck. I’ve never seen this side of Ariana, and the way she defended me touches me somewhere deep down in my soul. She could’ve easily believed what Megan was saying or at least ignored it. Instead, she defended me. The fact that my sweet, caring, nurturing fiancée punched someone who was talking shit about me means more to me than it probably should, but it’s a turn-on and it makes my heart swell with love for her. Right now, I want nothing more than to take her home and show my appreciation.
As Megan walks down the driveway, Ariana stares after her until she’s out of view. “What a cunt,” she whispers, shaking her hand out. She looks down at her hand, flexing her fingers, then leans her head back against the door, her eyes closing.
I watch her for a moment, and just as I’m about to go to her, she opens her eyes and slips back inside.
“Charlie’s going to be so fucking jealous when she hears about this,” Knox quips, and I have to grin.
“Looking back to a year ago, yeah, I’d say I have to agree.”
He laughs, and even though I tried to skip the party, it’s nice being able to replace the memories from last year.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go check on her,” I tell him. He nods, and just as I turn to walk away, I look back at him. “Do me a favor. Keep this between us for now. I don’t want her feeling embarrassed or anyone else hearing that Megan was here.”
“You got it, bro. Now go get your woman.”
AS I enter the kitchen, I find the wine bottle Amelia was using for comfort earlier and pour myself an oversized glass of wine, downing half the contents with one long swallow. Just as I’m about to head into the backyard, the door opens and Branson slips inside. His is expression is hot and hungry, catching me off guard.
Relief washes over me that he wasn’t there to witness the scene with Megan. I’ve never been a proponent of violence, but sometimes, a bitch has it coming. And hopefully that little altercation stays between Megan and me. Branson doesn’t need to know the vile things she said about him, and by the look on his face, there’s only one thing on his mind—and it’s not his ex.
He stalks towards me, the intent on his face clear. I barely have time to place my wine down when he takes my hand and pulls me out of the kitchen, down the hallway, and out the front door. The entire time, he’s silent, his strides longer than usual, leaving me practically running to keep up.
“Branson,” I say, but it’s as if he doesn’t hear me. I wrench my hand out of his and stop once we get to the edge of the driveway. “Branson!”
As he turns to face me, he looks equal parts annoyed and aroused. He lifts an eyebrow, and I have to wonder what’s gotten into him.
“What the hell’s going on? And can you please slow down? I know we don’t have far to walk, but Jesus, if you go any faster, I’m going to twist an ankle in these heels.”
His eyes soften, and he leans down, scooping me up into his arms. I let out a surprised shriek then wrap my arms around his neck as he starts walking towards home, still not letting me in on our sudden departure. He carries me with ease, not breaking a sweat or breathing heavily, and the farther we get from his parents’ house, the more turned on I become, no longer caring what his deal is.
Burying my face into his neck, I place my lips against his skin, giving him light kisses at first before nibbling gently. A low growl escapes his mouth and he picks up the pace, causing me to grin. Apparently, we’re on the same page. When our house comes into view, my belly tightens with anticipation. You’d think I’d be used to this by now, but no matter how many times Branson slides into me and rocks my world, I still can never get enough. I don’t know that I ever will, which is a damn good sign for our life together.
Lifting up, I bring my lips to his ear, nipping his lobe. “All night, I’ve been thinking about your cock being inside me. Ever since you had me pressed up against the door, I haven’t been able to get it off my mind. Take me inside, Branson, and make good on your promise. Show me just how bad you can be.”
Without a word, he finds his keys and unlocks the door, using his foot to close it behind us as he moves into the foyer. He loosens his hold and sets me on my feet, giving me no time to catch my bearings before he pushes me up against the door—much like he did before we left for the party. Only this time, we’re chest to chest, and I wonder if he can feel my heart pounding as he pulls me into him.
His hands move around my back, where he expertly unzips my dress. With nothing to hold it up, it slides to the floor, his expression darkening as he takes in the sight of me standing before him in nothing but my heels and a tiny pair of panties. Instead of feeling bare and unnerved, I’m feeling sexier than I ever have thanks to the appreciation in his gaze. I’m on full display for him, and he’s eyeing me as if he’s never seen anything more beautiful. He makes me feel beautiful. He makes me feel so much more than I ever have, and it’s astounding how he’s transformed me.
Just as I’m about to request he join me in losing his clothes, he moves forward and pushes me until my back is once against resting on the door. He takes my hands and lifts them up over my head, restraining them. I glance at his tie, half hoping he’ll finally tie me up like he’s been teasing for so long. He must see the hunger in my expression as he lets out a small moan and lowers his head until his lips capture mine in a searing kiss.
“God, I love you,” he whispers, peppering kisses along my jaw, sending shivers throughout me as he makes his way down my neck, one hand holding my joined wrists above my head as the other roams my body, touching every spot as if emphasizing his words. “I love your mouth. I love your fucking tits. I love your ass, and goddammit, Ariana, I love your fucking pussy and how you’re always so damn ready for me,” he growls as he pushes my panties aside and slides his finger into me with extreme ease. “You’re wet
for me, baby. I’m the only one who makes you this aroused.”
Even though I know he’s not asking, I still nod. “God, yes, Branson. Only you. No one but you,” I breathe as I push my hips up, trying to get some friction.
But he steps back, out of reach. He adds a second finger and uses his thumb to push down on my clit. As he works me over, he continues to restrain my hands, an act that only increases my arousal. It’s not long before I’m panting, writhing, and arching my back as he brings me to orgasm with just his hand. As I try to catch my breath, I lean my head back against the door and slowly return my eyes to his gaze.
“I thought I promised I’d be taking care of you tonight,” I tease once I finally regain my senses.
“Baby, the way you take care of me means more to me than you’ll ever know. But tonight? Tonight, I’m taking care of you, and I’m not stopping until you’re screaming my name.”
He loosens his hold on my hands, and I press them against his chest, sliding them up to undo the knot in his tie. After slipping it off his neck, I hold it up for him. His eyes are questioning, and I place it in his hands.
“You want to take care of me? Then let’s start with this.”
His eyes darken at my suggestion, and he scoops me up and throws me over his shoulder as he rushes down the hall to our room, where he takes care of me in more ways than one.
Let’s just say that I’ll never look at a necktie the same way again.
THIS DAY couldn’t go any fucking worse if it tried. After I storm off the elevator after having left a board meeting, Caroline tries to get my attention. Not in the mood, I bark orders at her to hold all my calls for the rest of the afternoon, barely registering the look of surprise on her face—one I haven’t seen since I came back from my accident.
I curse, knowing I’m being a bastard. But as I throw my briefcase onto my desk and settle into my chair, I wonder if I’m getting too soft. If I’ve let the happiness of my home life bubble over into how I act at the office. Not that I want to be a supreme dick, but I’m entitled to my bad fucking moods and gruffness.
With a heavy sigh, I think about the board meeting I just left. The one I’ve been waiting for all of my life, the one I should be celebrating—yet I can’t stop stewing over how it all went down. It was a disaster. Actually, it wasn’t, and that’s what’s pissing me off. This is my moment and I can’t even fucking enjoy it.
When Dad sprung the impromptu meeting on me, I was pretty damn surprised. Sure, he’d hinted at retiring, but the last thing I’d expected was for him to have me in the room when he discussed it with the board. As I listened to the meeting being conducted around me, talking about me as if I weren’t even there, a vast array of emotions swirled around in my head. This was fucking it. Finally, all my hard work was going to pay off, and I was more than ready to take the reins from Dad. Even when Mr. Donahue, the same one from all those years ago, admitted that he hadn’t thought I was ready, it didn’t bother me.
Until her name came up.
As the meeting dragged on, it became apparent that this wasn’t the first time the board members had heard of Dad’s wish for retirement. Instead, he himself had started spreading the word at the Labor Day party a couple of weeks ago, and it became my spontaneous audition. Mine and Ariana’s.
I’ll never understand the concept of having the CEO be a family man. How or why that translates to running a company successfully has always escaped me, but that’s what the board wanted. A goddamn fucking family man.
The board, having met and been completely taken by Ariana—as most people are when they meet her—came to the consensus that she’d be the perfect fit as the wife of the CEO of Wellington Enterprises, even going so far as to mention how much my own mother could teach her. Knox and Amelia Wellington handing over the reins to Branson and Ariana was suddenly the perfect plan for everyone.
Instead of just trusting that I was the best man for the job, the one who’s put in his dues and worked his ass off for the position, they made her a factor in their approval.
It took everything in me not to pound my fist on the table and remind them that I’m the one taking the job, not her. This isn’t what she signed up for. It’s not why I want her. And it’s not how I want to get this job, no matter how much I’ve been working towards it. But like a coward, I grinned and fucking took it, barely paying attention to the dates they started throwing out to make the big announcement.
Dad slapped me on the back, the board members shook my hand, and someone—I have no idea—who popped the champagne, toasting me. Branson Wellington, imminent CEO. Fortunately, I was able to slip out, citing a business call, not wanting to be a part of any celebration.
So here I am, sitting in my office, seething. My fucking dreams are coming true, and as I wipe my face with my hands, I wonder if this is even my dream anymore. It sure doesn’t feel like it. Or at least how I thought it would feel. I’ve wanted this based on my own merit, not because of who I’m marrying.
She’s the only person who could possibly make me feel better right now, yet she’s the person I want to avoid. Not because I blame her for this. I don’t. But I don’t think I’d be any good company no matter who I’m around, and I don’t want to subject her to my foul mood, so I decide to try and get some work done, hoping the anger settles before I go home for the day.
Glancing at my phone, I see the voicemail button flashing red. I pick up my phone and press the button, surprised when Shane’s voice fills my ear. Instead of straight and to the point like he usually is, he sounds cautious, and I wish this were a real conversation so I could just tell him to spit it fucking out.
“Anyway, man, we need to talk, so call me fucking back. It’s urgent, so don’t be a dick.”
Rolling my eyes, I decide to call him back when I’m not so pissed. Just as I start going over a new financial report that Caroline must’ve placed on my desk, a knock sounds at my door. Yeah, I’ve definitely gone too soft. Before Ariana, no interruptions meant no fucking interruptions.
I try to ignore it and return my attention to the file. I frown as I see the names Covington and Cunningham as a new acquisition from the Atlanta division. It has to be a coincidence, right? As soon as the thought crosses my mind, I know there’s no way. I’m about to pick up the phone to call Shane when the door bursts open.
“Ms. Caldwell!” Caroline’s exasperated tone breaks my concentration.
I groan when I see my ex-wife and secretary filling the doorway, and I wonder how this day could get any worse.
Megan smooths out her hair, glaring at Caroline. “It’s Mrs. Wellington,” she huffs. A dull ache forms in my head, and I rub my temples, not wanting to deal with this right now but knowing full well that Megan’s not going anywhere.
“It’s fine, Caroline,” I tell her, to which Megan gives her a triumphant look. “Let her in.” It’ll be easier to deal with her rather than use my usual avoidance tactics. The sooner I get her out of here, the better. “To what do I owe this displeasure?” I ask, sitting back in my chair, mentally chastising myself for not having fled the premises when I could have.
She crosses the room and lowers herself into a chair opposite me. “Really, Branson, do you have to be so rude? I’m here to help you.”
Frowning, I scoff in disbelief. “Really? Enlighten me, Megan. How can you help me?”
She leans forward and pushes a file onto my desk. “I know we split up, Branson, but I do still care about you. When that…woman told me you were engaged, I knew I had to do something.”
Ignoring the file, I train my eyes on her, my lips twitching at the memory of her one-on-one with Ariana. “You’re right. We split up. What goes on between Ariana and me is none of your business. I love her. I’m marrying her. End of story.”
“Just look at the file. I don’t want to hurt you,” she says, biting her lower lip and looking nervous. “It’s just… She’s a predator, Branson.”
Rolling my eyes, I pick up the file, ready to toss it back at
her. “Oh that’s rich coming from you.” Even though I say the words, something in me decides to flip the file open, wanting to appease her so she’ll get the hell out of here.
As I open it, I see a wedding announcement for Ariana and one Benjamin Cunningham—the same name on the financial reports from earlier. Again, just a fucking coincidence, right? My interest is piqued as more financial reports are in the file. Flipping through them, I see that they’re dated from earlier this summer. Then, at the very back, I find the same ones that were sitting on my desk. Confusion washes over me, wondering how the two are connected and what the hell this has to do with Ariana.
“Once I found out her name, it was pretty easy to dig up her dirt.”
I look up, expecting to see a smug expression on her face, but instead, I find pity. It unnerves me. “There’s nothing to dig up, Megan. I knew about her engagement.”
“Oh, I’m sure you did. But do you know why it ended?”
“Yes,” I say a little too quickly, causing her to raise her eyebrows. The memory of asking her what she overhead fills my mind, and I realize she never answered the question.
“What I heard doesn’t matter.”
All of a sudden, it matters more than anything.
“So you don’t mind that she left her former fiancé because his company was going under?”
Uhhh, what? “That’s bullshit, Megan.”
“I knew you’d say that, and I get you. I’ve heard through the grapevine how happy and in love you are. It pains me to do this, but if I couldn’t have been a good wife, well, I can at least help you from making a second big mistake.” She leans forward, grabbing a pencil and pointing at first the wedding date before moving to the first sheet on the financial report and circling both numbers. “Two days apart. It wasn’t a coincidence that his father filed for bankruptcy and then she mysteriously ran away from the wedding. Her cash cow was gone. It didn’t take her long to latch on to you, though, did it? Think about it, Branson. You never would have been this impulsive in the past, but nearly three months after your accident, you’re already planning a wedding? I have to admit she’s good.”
