Fake Wife Needed (A Bad Boy Romance)

by Mia Carson

  After the car accident, he thought he’d experienced his worst pain and anger, hating the world for what had happened to him, but he’d barely scratched the surface of the anger in his body.

  He possessed enough money. Hiring someone to track down Keith and pummel him within an inch of his life wasn’t out of the question, but he wasn’t sure how Mia would react to that news. On the outside, she was still docile, still weak and ready to give in, but buried inside her was a fire that needed to be stoked. She was a fighter. He’d seen it at the pub, and he would make it come out again. Make sure she never felt powerless again.

  When Mia stepped out of her bedroom the next morning, he was there to greet her with her own set of boxing gloves. “Morning,” she said slowly as she took the gloves with an arched brow.

  “I’m going into the office late,” he informed her and walked towards the door. “Let’s go, love.”

  “Where are we going? Max!” She ran to keep up with him, wearing her sweat shorts and tank from the night before. “Can you explain to me what’s going on here?” she tried again as they exited the elevator outside the gym.

  “You are going to learn a few things today,” he explained and held the door open for her.

  “Like what, exactly?”

  He guided her to the punching bag and instructed her to put the gloves on. She eyed him warily, but he crossed his arms over his chest and refused to say another word until she gave in with a laugh, slipping the smaller gloves over her hands.

  “There. Now what, Rocky?”

  He smirked and squared her up with the punching bag. “Hit it.”

  “Hit it? What, just like that? Why? And how long have you been awake?”

  He didn’t respond, not about to tell her he was up all night beating the shit out of this very bag until the first early morning treadmill walkers and swimmers appeared through the door. “Long enough. Punch it.”

  She puffed out her cheeks and hauled her right arm back. With a grunt, she punched at the bag, but it barely moved. “Like that? I don’t think I’m very good at this.”

  “Do it again,” he ordered.

  She drew her arm back an aimed it at the bag again, but he could tell she wasn’t putting all she could into it. “I have no idea what you’re trying to get me to do here.”

  “That night at the pub, I saw something in your eyes—a fire, Mia, a fire that has the potential to burn like an inferno if you would just give it a chance,” he insisted. “There is more to you than this woman who has been beaten down her whole life.”

  She squared her shoulders, but her eyes were filled with doubts, weighing her down. “It was a fluke.”

  “Is that what you’re really going to tell me? It was a fluke?’

  “Yeah, a fluke,” she snapped, growing angrier by the second. “He was trying to kidnap me, for God’s sake, so I let my instincts kick in, but it was a fluke. I’m not programmed like that. I can’t do it. There’s no fire and there’s nothing besides what you see standing before you.”

  She started to undo the gloves, but he blocked her path. “Bullshit.”

  She fumed as she tried to shove past him, but he moved with her. “I’m not in the mood for this.”

  “You’re running,” he challenged. “You’ve realized it’s your best option, the easiest option, so you’re going to run. But if you do it now, you’re going to be running for the rest of your life, no matter who you’re with or how far away you move.”

  Mia turned her back on him, but he walked around to face her again. “Go away.”

  “Not until you admit I’m right.”

  “Well, you’re not, okay? Just back off already. I can’t do it.”

  “Bullshit,” he repeated fiercely. “They hurt you, Mia. They beat you down and convinced you you’re weak, that you’re less than them, less than any man. Are you really going to let them be right forever?” She scrunched her eyes closed, pursed her lips, and didn’t speak. “You’re never going to escape them if you don’t prove to yourself you are stronger than them. That you can fight them, even in your dreams. Do it, prove to yourself that you’re stronger than them.”

  She shook her head, but her hands trembled at her sides.

  “Your dad hurt you so badly you can’t have kids,” he reminded her, hating to make such a low blow, but she needed to be pushed. “Keith thought he could control you, that one day he would possess every bit of you. He didn’t care about you. He never did. They used you, and they tried to destroy you. You telling me they won? Is that what this is? Are you giving in?”

  A fierce scream erupted from her mouth, and she hauled her fist back and let it fly hard at the bag. Then another and another until she pummeled it, her eyes filled with a rage refrained for far too long. With each hit, he watched another flame of fury appear in her eyes, quickly replaced by growing strength. She hit the bag until her arms gave out and she sagged against it, out of breath and covered in sweat.

  “Feel better?” he asked quietly.

  Turning to face him, still resting against the bag, she whispered, “Yeah. Yeah, think I do, actually.” She pushed off the bag and removed her gloves. “How did you know I needed that? I didn’t even know I needed it.”

  “Gut instinct,” he replied with a shrug. “I suggest you do it until the memories no longer haunt you.”

  “That might be a while,” she huffed. “I wish I could reach into my mind and just rip out the memories, you know?”

  “You can’t do that, but you can at least work through them.” He checked the clock on the gym wall and frowned. “I have to shower and get to the office. There’s a conference call at eleven.”

  “Yeah, sure, go ahead,” she said, pushing the bag absently with her hand. “Max?”

  “Hmm?” he said, taking off his own gloves and tucking them under his arm.

  She opened her mouth then closed it, her brow furrowing before she shook her head. “Never mind.”

  “I’ll be home around five, probably,” he said and leaned down to kiss her cheek as any good husband would do. When she didn’t flinch away, not even a little, his chest swelled with joy at the idea that he was breaking through her wall. Maybe this would work out, after all.

  What are you hoping for? Love? That wasn’t part of the deal.

  Maybe not, but whether he wanted to or not, Max wasn’t able to think of spending his nights with any other woman. She wasn’t ready for more yet, and he was surprisingly all right with waiting as long as she might need. Simply being in a room with her, talking to her, was enough. It was more than he’d had with any other woman in his life. When he reached the door to the gym, he heard the smacking sound of a glove against the punching bag and grinned. This would work, he would see to that.

  9

  Over the next few days, Mia settled into a comfortable routine with Max and Jeremy. Her husband would go to work in the morning, always either leaving her a note taped to her door, or giving her a kiss on the cheek before he walked out, a gesture she loved more with each passing day. He didn’t expect anything from her, and for that, she was equally grateful, though it didn’t stop her from planning something anyway.

  In the evenings, they would watch movies or whatever was on TV. Max laughed a lot, something that seemed to surprise Jeremy every time he heard the booming sound. Mia occupied her days with reading or hitting the punching bag in the gym until her arms gave out on her. Max was right. Every day, a bit more of the old Mia fell away, revealing the woman she truly could be underneath, and for the first time in years, she could genuinely say she was happy. Life was good. She taught herself to cook, surprising Jeremy and Max a few nights in her second week there with gourmet meals they had the decency to attempt to eat before she told them they didn’t have to. They’d ordered pizza and quickly tossed out her pasta with glee.

  “Whatever,” she pouted from the couch as she picked up another slice. “It wasn’t that bad.”

  Jeremy choked on his food and Max gave him a helpful whack on t
he back. “Right, not bad at all, Mia. Though I think you should stick to simpler meals or muffins. You make fantastic muffins.”

  She chucked a piece of crust at him. “Those came out of a box!”

  “Yes, and they were delicious,” he proclaimed before popping the crust in his mouth.

  Max rolled his eyes but grinned widely. There was no other sight she looked forward to more than seeing that grin appear on his face. She grew used to his cursing, but his vulgarity was curtailed, for the most part. Not that he had to say anything anymore. One touch of his hand on hers or a hungry glint in his eyes told her exactly what he wanted. She wanted to tell him the good news, but there were still a few details she needed help figuring out and was unsure of when she would get that chance, if ever.

  Wednesday evening rolled around, nearly two weeks since she had been with Max, and she leaned over on the couch to check her cell when it chirped. Jeremy was at the door with his hands full. “You could’ve knocked!” she called out as she hurried to open it.

  “I like to be difficult,” he said as he stepped inside.

  “What is all this?” she asked, laughing as she closed the door behind him. “Where’s Max?”

  “He has to stay late at the office so I took it upon myself to ensure you had company for the evening.” He handed her a bouquet of dark red daisies. “For you, my dear, from your beloved husband—with his apologies, of course.”

  Mia held them and sniffed their soft petals. “That man is full of surprises.”

  “You’re telling me. I’ve known him for years and I’ve never heard him laugh so much in my whole life.” He pulled out a paper-wrapped package from the box and handed it over as well before he unloaded takeout containers. “Thai alright? It smelled good on the way home.”

  “Sounds good to me,” she said distractedly. “What is this?”

  Jeremy winked. “Another surprise. Open it!”

  Biting her tongue in excitement, she hurried to tear the paper and drew out a leather-bound journal, a set of fountain pens, several books of poetry, and a stack of brochures. “What is all this?” she asked on a laugh.

  “You mentioned the other day about not being able to finish school and missing your poetry, so Max thought it was high time you got back on that horse,” Jeremy announced. “Right, who’s hungry?”

  Mia ran her fingers over the journal as tears filled her eyes. When was the last time she had written anything down? It had to be a year at least, around the time she met Keith. The books were a few of her favorite poets and the brochures were for some of the finest colleges within driving distance.

  “He did all this for me?” she whispered.

  Jeremy nodded earnestly. “I told you, he’s a changed man because of you. Well, minus the cursing and sharp tongue, but that won’t ever go away, I’m afraid.”

  “Probably not,” she agreed. “Can I ask you something?”

  “As long as we can talk and eat. I’m starving,” he said as he hopped up on the counter, picked up a container of noodles, and dug into them with a fork.

  She set the books down and picked up another container. “What happened to him?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He was hurt before, wasn’t he? It’s why he doesn’t laugh or smile, and I have a feeling it doesn’t have to do with his scar.”

  Jeremy sighed and set his food down. “Not all his bitterness, at least. He was with a woman a long time ago. He thought she was the one, swore to me up and down he would marry her and be the happiest man alive, but the accident happened and… well, you saw the scar on his face. I told him he looked more dashing with it.”

  Mia rested her hip against the counter, remembering the first night she’d seen Max. “I didn’t even notice it at first.”

  “I told him most people wouldn’t, but his girlfriend—she was a piece of work. It was bad enough that she cheated on him while he recovered from the car accident, but she ridiculed him for his deformity, as she called it. Told him she could never be with a man who was so ugly.” Jeremy stabbed his fork into his noodles. “It ripped his heart out, it did. He was never the same after that.”

  Silence settled between them as Mia went to the fridge and pulled out two beers, wondering how best to broach her next question.

  “He told me about you—or at least enough to understand what happened,” he said quietly.

  “I expected him to,” she said, not upset at all. “It’s getting easier with him and you around.” He batted his lashes and clutched a hand to his chest. “Look, there’s something I want to do for him… with him, but I… uh, I want it to be perfect, and I know this is completely cliché, asking the gay friend to help, but…” Her face hot from embarrassment, she gulped her beer and wondered what the hell she was even trying to ask.

  “Are you wanting to do the big thing with Mister Maxwell Ward?” he supplied.

  She laughed as she said, “Something like that, yeah, but I don’t have anything sexy to wear and I—damn, Jeremy, I’ve never been romantic a day in my life. Help a girl out here.”

  “That I shall do. Let’s go,” he said and scooped up his keys from the counter.

  “Where are we going?” she asked and slipped into her flats before following him to the door.

  “We are going shopping, my dear. Max won’t be home for at least three hours, and that should give us plenty of time,” he announced. “To the elevators!”

  Butterflies filled her stomach as she rode down to the lobby with Jeremy and realized that after tonight, if all went according to plan, she would finally know what it felt like to be loved by a man who actually wanted her.

  Max yawned as he shoved his key in the lock and staggered inside. It was nearly midnight and he expected Mia to be passed out already. Jeremy had texted earlier to say all was well and he’d delivered the presents as requested. Mia loved them all, and he hoped she would seriously consider going back to school. In the short week and a half he’d been with her, she’d changed so much he hardly recognized her as the woman he’d carried up to his penthouse that first night.

  She, in turn, changed him into a man he swore he would never see again when he looked in the mirror. It felt good to laugh and smile, to come home at the end of a long day and not feel the need to drink until he passed out, or find whatever woman would take him to bed for a few seconds of bliss.

  He set his keys on the table and stepped around the kitchen to see a trail of flower petals on the floor. Max scratched at the scruff on his face as he followed them slowly down the hall. His bedroom door was open just a crack, and the petals led him through the doorway. He pushed it open and stepped into the room lit by candles covering every surface. Quiet music played in the background, and lying in the middle of his four-poster bed, wearing nothing but a red lace bra and panties, was Mia.

  His throat thick with arousal, he managed a grunt in greeting, his pants straining against his quickly growing erection at the sight of her beauty and the smile that finally reached her shining eyes.

  “How was work?” she asked casually, resting on her side so he had a full view of her from head to toe.

  “Good,” he rasped before he cleared his throat. “Long day.”

  “Yeah? Well, if you’re too tired…”

  “Fuck, no,” he growled, and her lips turned up in a wicked grin. “You did all this for me?”

  “For us,” she corrected. “I want you, Max. I’m ready and I came to you like you said.”

  She sat up, and his eyes failed to focus as he tried to see all of her at once. The first time she was naked, splayed out before him, all he could think of was what it would be like to claim her, to make his mark on her. Wearing that red lace, he realized she wanted the exact same thing—except to do it to him. Her fingers trailed between her breasts and lower to her stomach as he watched. He took a slow step forward, wanting to soak in this moment since it could very well be their only time. He sure as hell hoped not, but sex was not part of their agreement. He didn’t
expect anything from her.

  “You’re sure?” he asked, clearing his throat and having to ask again as he moved even closer.

  “If I wasn’t sure, I wouldn’t be here, waiting for you,” she purred. She bit her bottom lip in the way that drove him insane as she cupped her breasts firmly in her hands and gave them a good squeeze. “Max, you showed me what pleasure is, but I want you right there with me. I want to see you squirm at my touch.” She slipped her fingers into the lace cups and pinched her nipples. Max groaned, his hands aching to shove hers aside and take their place. “I want you inside me.”

  He reached the bed in two steps and took her hand, dragging her body against his as she knelt before him. He smashed his mouth against hers, digging his fingers into her back, needing her to be as close to him as possible. His tongue demanded entrance to her mouth, and she parted her lips on a sigh. As his tongue sought hers out, rubbing and stroking, he fumbled for the hooks of the bra, wanting to see all of her again.

  He’d barely freed the hooks when he paused and forced his mouth away from hers. “I don’t know if I can control myself with you,” he confessed.

  She gripped his shoulders hard in her hands. “You won’t hurt me.”

  “How do you know? I’m used to hard fucks, not taking my time, not being gentle.”

  Mia licked the shell of his ear and he squeezed the ends of the bra harder in his hand. “I don’t need you to be. I trust you, and maybe a good, hard fuck is just what the doctor ordered.”

  This was not the same Mia he’d brought home nearly two weeks ago. She had been timid, scared of stepping out of her shell. This woman he held in his arms was strong and hungry for his touch. Her eyes glimmered with the promise of what was to come if he went through with this, and as his erection throbbed in his pants, he was hopeless to resist. He wanted her, plain and simple, wanted to fuck her until she screamed his name over and over, until she begged for more, until he couldn’t see straight. Her grey eyes found his blue ones and they stared at each other for a solid minute as a rush of raw emotion erupted within him.