by Lucy Leroux
“Yeah, I told him I was staying with my new boyfriend like you said. He was a little surprised, but okay. He’s a nice boss,” she said, opening her hands and resting them in her lap.
Calen leaned back and cocked his head at her, “Did you tell him my name?”
“No.”
“He probably won’t be as okay with it when he finds out who I am,” he said derisively. “I don’t suppose he avoids the newspapers like you do?”
Maia took exception to that. “I don’t avoid them. I just don’t think to read them unless something big is going on.”
“How big is big?” he asked.
“Hurricane or terrorist attack big,” she said a little sheepishly.
He grinned, and she sighed and looked down with another of her cute blushes. “What about your coworkers and boss? Do you think they know who I am?” he asked.
She shrugged. “Someone will recognize your name, I’m sure,” she said in an oddly fatalistic tone.
“Well, don’t let them get you on the defensive,” he said quietly. “They’re going to try and talk you out of seeing me.”
“I don’t know if that’s true, but if they say something, I’ll think of something to put them off. I know what’s at stake. And thank you again for doing this for me. I know you’re really putting yourself out,” she said, her incredible eyes filled with anxiety.
“I’m not being put out,” he said, bending down to give her a quick kiss on the forehead. “Dinner is lobster potpie. Does that sound good?”
“Sure,” she said, growing pinker.
He shouldn’t enjoy making her blush quite so much.
“I’ll come get you when it’s ready,” he said, leaving before she could reply.
****
“This is the first time I’ve had lobster. I like it,” Maia said, finishing her potpie with gusto.
Calen was watching her with an amused expression. “I’m glad you like it. I get a kick out of watching you eat. You enjoy your food more than anyone I’ve ever known. It’s fun to watch.”
Maia made a face. “When you live off of PB&J sandwiches, most anything is an improvement,” she joked weakly, turning to look at the room again.
It was beautiful. He must have had a decorator design it. When she looked back at Calen, his smile had dropped off his face, giving it a stern forbidding look.
Intimidated, her chest tight, she asked, “What’s wrong?”
Calen's head lowered slightly, and all expression wiped off his face. But his voice was clipped when he finally said, “I just don’t like hearing about all the things you did without. In addition to a warm winter coat, I can add a smartphone, a reliable car, and now apparently decent meals to the list. I saw how little food you kept at your place, but I was hoping that simply meant you ate out a lot. But you didn’t, did you?”
Surprised and startled, Maia was quiet. Calen sounded genuinely angry. She stared at him apprehensively. As though noting her disquiet, he made a visible effort to soften his features.
“Sorry. I’m not angry at you. Just your situation,” he said eventually.
Maia pursed her lips. “I don’t have a situation. I didn’t always have time to cook. And I was on a budget, so I didn’t get a lot of fancy stuff. But it’s not like I was starving,” she added a little defensively, holding the fork tightly in her hand.
“And was this budget necessary because of all the medical bills your mother left? Don’t you still owe almost another twenty grand in addition to your college loans because of her medical expenses?”
Maia’s stomach tightened. How did he know the exact amount? “Did you run a credit check on me or something?”
Calen looked like he was starting to regret starting this conversation. “I paid off those bills today. You don’t have to worry about them anymore. I also opened you new savings and checking accounts at my bank. There’s plenty of money in them to get whatever you might need. I told them to rush your new credit cards. They should arrive by the end of the week.”
Maia’s mouth dropped open. “Why did you do that? I’ll never be able to pay you back!”
Calen scowled. “You don’t have to pay me back. Maia, you’re living with me now. Under my roof and my protection. I pay your bills from now on. I also buy your clothes, and the food you eat. I even buy the toiletries you use. I get to decide what you smell like because I choose your soap and shampoo. But you’re right. This isn’t free for you. In fact, I’m going to be asking for a lot from you.”
Oh god, here it comes. “What do you want from me?”
The words came out a little garbled, she sounded like she was choking. Calen shifted in his seat uncomfortably. He put his hands together and templed them under his chin. Eventually he leaned back.
“I want you to consider making our fake relationship a real one. I think we should get married.”
Chapter 9
“What?” Maia stared at him dumbfounded.
“I said I think we should get married. And have a real marriage. Sharing the same bed and the same life. Have kids. The whole nine yards.”
“What?” she repeated, eyes flaring wide.
The slight tinge of panic in her voice was not flattering for Calen. He tensed in his seat. “It would be a good life,” he reassured her. “You would want for nothing. It’s the best way to keep you safe, and I would get a wife whose company I enjoy.”
He masked his disappointment with her reaction with his habitual stern facade.
“Why would you do that?” she breathed, still in shock.
“Because I want to,” he said, frowning at her.
She shook her bright head in disbelief. “You can’t possibly make that kind of sacrifice and not come to regret it!”
Calen cocked his head at her. What did she mean by that?
“It’s not a sacrifice for me…”
“Of course it is! I’ve googled you. None of the women you have ever been photographed with look like me. Not even in the same ballpark. They were all gorgeous, and they all had these huge—” she cut herself off and gestured wildly with her hands in front of her small pert breasts.
Relieved, Calen’s tension fell away, and he laughed aloud. When Maia frowned at him, he passed a hand over his mouth until he stopped.
“Is that your only reservation?”
“No!” she said, leaning in with an incredulous expression.
“But it’s your biggest one?” he asked.
“There are a million reasons why it won’t work. Your family for one.”
His temperature dropped by several degrees. “What about my family?”
“They won’t ever believe you willingly chose me.”
Some of the warmth trickled back. “They will once I get you pregnant.”
Maia went a little pale.
Uh oh, Calen thought. “Do you not like kids?”
If she didn’t, his plans would become complicated.
Maia opened and closed her mouth a few times. Probably shouldn’t have sprung it on her like that. Pouring himself more wine, he waited for her to calm down enough to respond. He was half way done with his glass before she finally spoke.
“I do...I love babies, but I didn’t think I’d ever be having any. At least not so soon. Do you want kids? Soon?”
The last was a breathy little whisper.
Calen wanted to hug her, but he didn’t think that was going to help calm her down. Instead, he settled for patting her hand. He didn’t want to scare her any more than he already had, but he had to be honest with her.
“Sooner rather than later would be best, I think. The Russians and my family would know better than to mess with you then...but I do understand that it would be better for our marriage if we waited a bit.”
“Our marriage,” Maia repeated, wide-eyed. She still looked panicked. “What about sex?” she asked, her voice high.
Calen held back a laugh. That wouldn’t help his cause. “Last time I checked, it was a pre-requisite for having childre
n,” he said evenly.
Maia frowned, and her shell-shocked expression morphed into an annoyed one. It was adorable. “I mean, do you think you would be happy...doing that with me?”
Calen leaned forward, startling Maia and making her edge back in her seat. He reached out to her to touch her unbruised cheek.
“I’m going to be very happy doing that with you,” he confessed, his breath fanning her cheek. Maia’s breath stuttered a little and she turned a rosy red. It was charming. “I find you incredibly attractive,” he added.
She stared at him like he was a crazy person. “What happens when you get bored?” she whispered.
“What makes you think I’m going to get bored?” he asked, drawing her chair closer to him.
“Because. I don’t have—” she gestured to her chest again, and he did laugh this time, right before he kissed her.
****
Maia’s first kiss was startling. Calen was physically closer to her than any man had ever been—or even any boy. Heart hammering, she felt enveloped in his body heat. Her skin was tingling in response. She almost jumped out of her skin when the tip of his tongue began to trace her lower lip. Until he bit it—not hard, but it surprised her. She yelped before she could stop herself, and that teasing tongue slid inside her mouth.
Heat coursed through her body and pooled in the places she usually ignored. Her head was spinning. She felt faint, yet hyperaware of each sensation at the same time. Calen pulled her in close, his hands resting on her hips. The heat and pressure of them seemed strange and alien on her body, until he moved one of them to caress and cup her left breast. Startled, she broke the kiss to look down at his hand. But he didn’t stop stroking her.
“These,” he whispered, “these are absolutely perfect.”
He pinched her nipple between his thumb and forefinger through her shirt, and smiled when she sucked in her breath. Her blush felt impossibly hot, and her lips burned.
“Are you done eating? Want dessert?” he asked, tweaking her nipple a last time before finally removing his hand.
She gave a little gasp, and his grin turned predatory.
“Not hungry,” she said when he looked at her expectantly.
“Okay then,” he said, swooping down to carry her to her room.
He put her down on the bed and sat next to her. He fingered a lock of her hair absently as she held her breath.
“I know you’re feeling overwhelmed right now. You probably think you don’t have a choice. And I’m not going to lie to you...things would be much easier if you agreed to go along with my plans. But I don’t think you would regret it if you did. We can make this work. However, if you feel strongly that this isn’t right for you, we can figure something else out. Think it over.”
With that suggestion, he rose from the bed and left her alone with her racing thoughts.
Chapter 10
Maia woke up to a cheerful, middle-aged Hispanic woman cleaning out her closet. Mrs. Portillo, Calen’s cook and housekeeper, introduced herself and told her what a pleasure it was to meet the future Mrs. McLachlan. Flushing with embarrassment, Maia thanked her.
She hadn’t spent much time thinking about Calen’s request. It was like her mind refused to process it. But even if she decided not to go through with it, Calen wanted everyone to believe they were engaged. At least for now.
She was confused when Mrs. Portillo started making a pile of her belongings next to the closet. “What are you doing with my clothes?” she asked.
“I’m making room at the Master’s request. Your new clothes are here,” Mrs. Portillo said with a satisfied look at the pile.
“What new clothes?” Maia asked blankly.
“Some lovely new dresses. And some nice winter clothes, too,” the woman said, fingering Maia’s thin jacket with a frown.
Her other warmer coat had been torn during the attack in the woods. Calen had thrown it out, despite her protest that she could have it mended.
“Oh.”
Maia processed that quietly. Calen’s words about her clothes and toiletries came back to her. He wanted to be the one to decide how she dressed, even how she smelled.
On impulse she asked, “Did he ask you to call him Master?”
“No, but it is proper, and he likes it. He likes things just so,” the beaming housekeeper replied.
Well, that’s telling, Maia thought.
Calen clearly liked control. He was a textbook example of a dominant alpha male, the kind that would actually help a damsel in distress. But there was more to it than that. Having someone to control, someone dependent on him, was probably a very appealing thing to a man like him. Her presence in his household was starting to make a lot of sense.
****
Maia sat on the large leather couch in the living room, surrounded by new clothes. Dazed, she fingered the fine silk of a turquoise dress close to the color of her eyes. There were probably tens of thousands of dollars worth of haute couture here. The camel-colored cashmere coat alone had to be worth a thousand at least. Probably more. And all of it was in her size.
Mrs. Portillo handed her a few more boxes with an exclusive label. When she opened them, she blushed hotly. It was lingerie—a lot of it. Silk and lace. Even some satin. All lovely. Nothing terribly risqué, but certainly more daring than anything she owned. In fact, she didn’t own anything that looked remotely like any of these things.
Her underwear was like her clothes. Plain and serviceable. Some of it was noticeably worn. But these clothes were so beautiful, all with a modern romantic look; the kind of things fashion magazines would dress models they photographed in woods—dream gowns and lingerie for faux wood nymphs. She was starting to get the idea Calen wanted to wrap her in luxury while indulging certain fantasies. It made her feel special and anxious at the same time.
After Maia looked over the clothes, Mrs. Portillo suggested she change into one of the filmy silk dresses as a special surprise for Calen. She let the woman help her bathe. Her fingers felt better, but her ankle was still painful. Mrs. Portillo helped her rewrap it as well as her ribs. The housekeeper had been told the car accident version of events, and she was so sympathetic that Maia started to feel guilty for lying to her.
After she changed and Mrs. Portillo fussed over her hair, the kind woman made her a sandwich. Maia ate with heavy eyes and then moved over to the couch in the living room to rest. She was tempted to ask the housekeeper for a fire, but was too tired. Instead, she picked up the fuzzy throw Calen kept out on the couch and curled underneath it for a nap.
Multiple male voices and laughter scared Maia awake. Disoriented, she hugged the fuzzy blanket closer to her chest, her wide eyes meeting the equally startled expressions of the two tall and imposing men who’d just entered the living room.
They were both broad and muscular, and dressed incredibly well in suits that had to be custom made to fit their frames so perfectly. One was holding a bottle of liquor. They looked like a windblown advertisement for an exclusive brand of whiskey.
“Well, what have we here?” the younger of the two men said.
He had light brown hair and brown eyes that crinkled at the corner, like he laughed a lot. The other one was a few years older, with darker hair and eyes, but he had similar features to the other visitor. Except he didn’t look like he ever laughed.
“Hello,” Maia croaked, her voice still sleepy.
The younger one smiled at her and stepped closer. Maia instinctively shrank back, her heart pounding. They both noticed and frowned. The older one frowned more deeply when he noticed the bruises that marred her face and the crutches lying at her side.
“Who are you and what happened to you?” he asked Maia in a no-nonsense gravelly voice.
“I’m Maia Dahl. I’m Calen’s fiancée. I—I was in a car accident.”
Both men gave each other startled looks, and the younger one laughed. “Calen wouldn’t get engaged without telling us. Who are you really?”
Realization struck, and
Maia felt the blood draining from her face, “Oh, you’re Liam and Patrick,” she said weakly.
She should have recognized them from their pictures on all those web sites. As though puzzled by her reaction, the men gave each other another pointed look while Maia tried to rack her brain to remember what Calen was going to tell his best friends about her.
She couldn’t remember if he’d said he was going to tell them the truth or their cover story...which if everything went as he planned, wouldn’t be a story at all. Watching the men anxiously, she wished Calen would get home.
“So you’re engaged to Calen,” Liam said in a tone that clearly indicated he didn’t believe her. “How did you two meet?”
The way he said engaged practically put air quotes around it.
“I, uh...at his club. I was there with some girlfriends.”
“A girls night, huh? And call me Trick. Everyone does,” Patrick said, still smiling as he pulled up a chair to sit across from her.
Liam didn’t smile though, which made her nervous.
“Oh, don’t worry about him,” Patrick said, catching her wary glance. “He’s a naturally suspicious bastard. Calen told us he had news, we just weren’t expecting...this. Can’t blame us for being a little surprised. You don’t seem like Calen’s type. Not that he has a type. Not really.”
Maia’s dismay must have showed on her face because Liam shifted and gave her a penetrating look.
“Actually, if you go by what’s in his library, she’s exactly his type,” he murmured.
Patrick looked confused and then beamed like he had suddenly remembered it was Christmas. “His collection. Oh, my god yes!” he shouted excitedly, so loud Maia jumped.
“What collection?” she asked.
She must have been very pale now, picturing a pile of DVD's of teen and barely-legal porn. Her question went unanswered. The three of them simply sat there and stared at each other until the elevator dinged behind them.
Calen, face creased with worry, rushed into the room. “What is going on here?”
