The Mischievous Mrs. Maxfield

by Ninya Tippett

  My good mood soured a little when I saw a man walk into the diner and stand by the elevated entrance, scanning the crowd. His face lit up when his eyes fell on me and I inwardly cringed.

  Dustin Clarence was a junior partner in one of the top law firms in the city. He was in his mid-thirties and still attractive with his light blond hair and blue eyes but something about him just seemed... slimy.

  He was always a little too over-friendly with the waitresses at Marlow's but he especially held a disconcerting interest in me. He'd asked me out many times, even when I was way too young to be going out with. He'd pay the other waitresses extra tips if they agree to always give me whichever table he was at. I never complained because he would always leave anywhere from fifty to a hundred dollars for a tip which no person in his right mind would do if he didn't want some 'extra service'.

  He smiled at me, his eyes raking down my body and I fought the urge to shudder and take off.

  I returned his smile and spotted the table he pointed to.

  Just endure it. If you play nice with him today, he might just give you enough to pay your internet bill.

  I felt a little nauseous. Despite my protestations about striking a deal with Brandon to play his wife in exchange for a million dollars, I was pushing close to the line by sucking it up and letting men ogle me and flirt with me for larger tips. So much for my principles.

  "Hello, Dustin," I greeted as I came over to his table with my notepad. "How are you doing?"

  His eyes strained on my breasts which were molded by my tight shirt before looking up and smiling at me. "Better now that you're here. You're looking good, Charlotte. You've really filled out that cute, little uniform perfectly."

  My feet tickled with the urge to flee but I just shifted my weight between them and gave him a tight smile. "Thanks, Dustin. Now, you want the usual or something different today?"

  "Something different, I'd say," he responded, reaching out to touch my hip. I almost lost it and backed away but I forced mysel to stay still even when he gave my hip a light squeeze. "Maybe give me that pulled pork sandwich with fries and some hot peppers. I'm in the mood to indulge in something a little decadent and hot."

  I nearly rolled my eyes as I wrote down the order and finally stepped back. "Alright. I'll be back with your usual Coke in a minute."

  I did my best to ignore Dustin throughout his lunch but he wasn't an easy customer. He kept calling me over for the littlest things, taking advantage of every opportunity to openly leer at me or touch me. He was gone when I came by his table to do a final check and a hundred dollar bill was tucked in receipt book.

  I kept telling myself it was worth it, no matter how sick it made me feel.

  Wanting a breath of fresh air now that the diner had mostly cleared out, I stepped out to the back alley, grabbing one of the trash bins on my way to empty into the dumpster.

  I had just set it down and was stretching my arms over my head when a noise startled me.

  "Dustin. Mr. Clarence. What are you doing here?" I asked nervously as the man stepped through the back door and walked toward me. The alley was usually pretty empty except for the occasional employee who would step out for a smoke.

  "I was in the washroom when you came by to clear my table," he answered casually. "I didn't think I should just leave without saying goodbye."

  I tried not to back away as he closed the distance between us. Even if I did, there wasn't a lot of room because the dumpster was a foot away behind me.

  "Well, you've seen me. Thanks for stopping by today," I said with a forced laugh, starting to back up a step. I glanced at the closed door. "I should probably get back to work anyway."

  "Now, come on, Lottie," he cajoled, smiling suggestively, taking another step closer to me. "What's a few minutes? You have time for me, don't you? I'm your best-paying customer."

  I frowned at him, my hand slipping into my pocket. "If you want your hundred dollars back, I'm happy to give it to you. Just... Just back off!"

  My control was completely gone now.

  I didn't like the lecherous gleam in his eyes and the way he kept stalking me as I backed up. When I felt the cold, hard steel of the dumpster on my back, I snapped.

  "Here you go," I said, slapping the bill on his chest. He made no move to catch it so it fluttered to the ground, my gaze following it.

  He chuckled. "If it's more money you want, Lottie, I can arrange that. I'm willing to spend a lot on you if it means I can fuck your brains out."

  My cheeks burned and I shoved him on the chest. "Get lost, Dustin! Sorry to disappoint you but I'm not that kind of girl."

  Unfortunately, he was a little bigger than an average-sized guy that my shove did little to get him off me.

  He just laughed and grabbed my shoulder. "You could be at the right price, Lottie. And don't worry, I'm going to make sure we enjoy it both."

  "I'll enjoy bashing your head, you asshole!" I yelled at him as I swung my knee forward to catch him in the groin but his hand shot out and intercepted it, pushing it back down as he pinned me against the dumpster, his mouth mashing against mine.

  I screamed but little of it carried because he swallowed most of the sound. I twisted to get away but he leaned his weight against me, his one hand keeping me in place by the shoulder and his other groping my breast.

  Tears burned my eyes and I squeezed them shut.

  Goddammit! I'm not going down like this!

  Suddenly, his weight was thrown off me and I blinked my eyes open to the scuffle that was playing out in front of me.

  "You should keep your hands off unwilling ladies, Clarence," Brandon ground out as he slugged the other man on the face, sending him sprawling on the ground.

  "Maxfield!" Dustin hollered as he struggled to his feet but Brandon pinned him down on the chest with his knee. "This is none of your fucking business! She and I have an understanding."

  "It didn't appear as if you were understanding each other very well," Brandon hissed as he grabbed Dustin by the collar and pelted his face with a few more knuckle-cracking punches. "Consider this your last warning, Clarence. Stay away from women who don't want you—especially Charlotte."

  My already rapidly beating heart picked up its cadence not from the violent exchange between the two men but from the way Brandon said my name.

  Don't be pathetic, Charlotte. It's like trading one neanderthal for another.

  Dustin laughed, spitting out some blood in the process. "Don't tell me she's got you too, Maxfield. She's a hot piece but I didn't think she was your type."

  Brandon slammed him back down on the ground and Dustin groaned out loud in pain. "She's going to be my wife, Clarence, and if I hear you utter one negative word about her or come within a meter of her, I will destroy you, and you know that I can."

  I gasped at Brandon's pronouncement. "Hey! I'm not—"

  He looked up and glared at me. "Be quiet, darling. I'm not quite done here with your friend yet."

  As much as I'd like to take Brandon by the ear and rant at him for making that presumptuous declaration, I was secretly thrilled to watch the fear register on Dustin's face as he glanced between me and Brandon.

  "Alright," I said with a sigh. "Toss him on his ass so he can get out of here before I decide to call the cops down the block. I doubt Mr. Clarence here would like being the weekend special with all those hoodlums down there."

  A smile twitched at Brandon's mouth before he turned a cold, deadly gaze at Dustin. "Are we clear on this, Clarence, or would you like further enlightenment?"

  The man blinked rapidly, stuttering in his reply. "I... I d-didn't know... okay? I'm sorry. I... Just let me go, Brand. I..."

  Brandon lifted himself off Clarence and yanked him to his feet.

  "Get out of here," he barked out at the trembling man, pointing to the back door. "Now!"

  Without pause, Dustin bolted for the door, leaving the two of us in pregnant silence for a long time, blood still rushing to my ears, my shoulders still sh
aking slightly.

  "Do you need medical help?" he finally asked, glancing at me up and down as if checking for obvious injuries.

  I shook my head. "No, I'm fine. Just a little... rattled."

  His expression darkened as he took out a perfectly pressed handkerchief from his pocket. "The next time something like this happens, there may be no one to help you. You gamble with your life every time you dally with a man like Clarence. He's sexually harrased a number of women and paid them all off to keep them quiet. He wouldn't have stopped at a kiss or a little fondle. If I didn't walk in on you, you could've been the newest addition to that list."

  "How did you know where to find me?" I asked, a quiver in my voice.

  "I just came in to talk to you again," he answered with a shrug, dusting his hands clean. "One of the waitresses told me where you were. I thought we could have a less public setting to talk again but when I got here, Clarence already had his tongue down your throat."

  I opened my mouth to speak but gasped when he suddenly pressed the handkerchief to my jaw. I winced as I felt a slight sting.

  "What the hell?" I muttered, grabbing his hand with the handkerchief, and saw the blood specked on the snowy white linen. "Why am I bleeding?"

  He pulled his hand back and pressed the handkerchief to my face again. "It's a small scratch. He probably grazed you with his teeth or something. He looked like he was going to eat you alive earlier."

  I flushed and shuddered at the memory of Dustin's mouth and hands all over me. "I don't know why he followed me out. He normally flirts with me a lot but he's never gone this far."

  Brandon leaned down and picked up the hundred-dollar bill which he handed to me. "The man clearly wants what he paid for."

  I turned my head away so he wouldn't touch me anymore and I snatched the bill angrily from him. "Right. Because that's how I get by. Well, I might as well keep the money since I've already suffered for it."

  The expression of dismay was clear in his eyes. "I'm not here to judge you, Ms. Samuels. That was my mistake yesterday. I don't care how you make your money. All I want is your cooperation in a simple and lucrative business arrangement that will offer you a safe and comfortable life for the duration of it and the financial support for you to continue living so afterwards."

  My hands clenched into fists. "Despite what you think you know, Mr. Maxfield, I won't prostitute myself to you."

  "But you will to men like Clarence?" he asked, his brows lifting.

  "I am not a prostitute!" I yelled at him, my palm cracking against his cheek before we both realized it.

  My jaw dropped in horror and I lowered my stinging hand, meeting his furious gaze as he palmed his reddened cheek.

  He didn't speak for a full minute and I refused to say anything—much less an apology.

  "If your concern is your marital obligations to me in bed, set your mind at ease," he said slowly in a low, menacing voice. "I have no interest in sleeping with you whatsoever. But since I'll be paying you, I require absolute fidelity from you."

  "And I suppose you require the exact opposite for yourself," I scoffed.

  "Of course," he said without hesitation. "I will, however, be very discreet. I will not humiliate you publicly in that regard. Besides, it will scandalize my father and I don't want to jeopardize changing his mind because of that."

  "How very selective you are with your morals," I muttered snidely, shaking my head. "But then that's not my problem because I'm not going to marry you, Mr. Maxfield. You and your million dollars can go to hell."

  I started to walk away.

  "Money can make hell seem like heaven, Ms. Samuels," he said and I halted in my steps. "When you're truly burning in it with no way out, maybe you'll appreciate the offer I'm making you."

  He walked around me and took a folded sheaf of papers from inside his jacket. "This is the contract. It's designed to protect both our interests. If you wish to consult your own lawyer, contact mine on the number listed so that you can procure the services of one at no charge and with a non-disclosure agreement that will protect me in case he decides to open his mouth."

  Despite myself, I took the papers but without glancing at them.

  "You have until Friday to decide," he said. "I'll meet you here at ten."

  "You're wasting time, you know," I said through gritted teeth. "You might fancy yourself persuasive but it's not going to work.'

  He suddenly grinned and for a moment, the sight of a smile stretching across his face and changing his stony but handsome profile caught me completely off guard.

  "Oh, you haven't seen me persuasive yet, Ms. Samuels," he said as he started walking backwards to to the door. "And let me warn you, I play dirty."

  And with that, he turned and walked back inside.

  I muttered a colorful string of curses under my breath before glancing at the sheaf of papers in my hand.

  I should just shred this and make a point that way, I told myself, kicking a stray pebble with my toe.

  And what? Work yourself to death for ten years and possibly run into a sleazeball like Dustin again who won't settle for some harmless flirting?

  I sighed and picked up the empty trash bin.

  The money-side of this argument was definitely gaining popularity, especially after what happened with Dustin. Incredibly, life with the arrogant and infuriating Brandon Maxfield seemed much more preferable than the prospect of letting other men grope and pet me for the sake of a few extra dollars here and there.

  I felt a rush of anger.

  I never once thought I'd stoop this low but the circumstances were out of my control. The man responsible for them was already buried six feet in the ground. My mother was just as dead to me.

  If there was a quick way out of this, it was Brandon's offer.

  My only worry was that in escaping this life, I might just imprison myself in a completely different one where I may not get so lucky a second time.

  Chapter Three: The Inevitable

  By the time Friday came, I was already losing my mind.

  The notice of sale from the bank arrived and I had about three weeks before the house was to be auctioned off. I got the default notice about five months ago and I've dragged it on as much as I could. The mortage payments were too high and it was hard to keep up with it along with the insurance, property taxes and all the utilties. I wouldn't even get started on my other consumer debt.

  I went to the bank again to get another loan but considering I was only nineteen without much of a credit history or other collateral, they turned me down. I went to other loan agencies but the interests were so high they were almost criminal. I'd only bury myself deeper into debt if I signed up with any of them.

  I needed money and I needed it fast but my paycheck barely covered my personal expenses and if I had to move in three weeks, I needed the money to pay down an apartment if I didn't want to sleep on the streets.

  There's money to be had if you would just sign on the dotted line.

  Even though I was still stewing in indignation at Brandon's offer, I couldn't resist going over the contract.

  Reading it definitely made things seem very real—that marrying him and getting paid for it was not merely just an arbitrary idea.

  The marriage would be real—and so would be the lies and the money.

  "Why can't just the prince come riding down in his white horse and rescue Cinderella because he couldn't live without her?" I muttered after I finally put the contract down late Thursday night, the revisions scribbled on it in red ink.

  Because this isn't a fairytale and Brandon Maxfield is no prince charming.

  I convinced myself that night that this was bitter reality and I had decisions to make—there will be no fairy godmothers or true love. Even if money didn't make the world go round, it paid for a lot of its maintenance.

  On Friday morning, I went to Marlow's in a light blue cotton sundress and flip-flops, my long, dark blonde hair gathered in a loose bun. I wasn't due for my shift unt
il much later because I worked Friday evenings when the tips were the best.

  I was there five minutes before ten and Brandon was already waiting in a booth, reading the morning paper.

  "Hey," I said when he finally looked up.

  His hazel eyes flickered with some unidentifiable emotion as he appraised me from head to toe.

  "Like what you see?" I snapped, irritated by the sight of him because it was either that or I swooned which would not do at all.