For a girl who'd gone from having zero kisses to a few here and there in the last week or so, I had a pretty good assortment of Brandon's types of kisses—the hot, steamy kind, the sweet, tender ones, the playful, teasing nips. None of them applied to the kind of crushing, desperate possession he was doing to my mouth.
My toes literally curled as they lifted off the ground when Brandon hoisted me up against him, not once freeing me from the kiss he was using so determinedly to assault my every conscious thought.
Heat was shooting through my limbs that came to life on their own, clutching my body to Brandon as I gave myself up to his kiss.
Then to my utter despair, he roughly tore his mouth away from mine, only an inch or two that I could totally go for it again, but he started to say something through ragged breaths.
"I'm not sleeping with Simone," he said.
The name registered like a cold slap on my face and the lusty haze cleared from my brain.
"What?" My voice came out a pathetic, breathless whisper.
"I'm not sleeping with Simone," he repeated, settling me back down on my feet but not releasing me from his hold. "I haven't. Not since... Not since brunch, with my family."
"Oh."
Clearly, he had been sleeping with her before that brunch. His statement made that distinction.
"Why not?" I asked dumbly.
He gave me an are-you-serious look. "Because it didn't feel right then when I just declared to the world that I was marrying you. I'm not that callous, you know, despite appearances."
My eyes narrowed. "But you had every intention to carry on with her after we were married."
Brandon's jaw tightened. "I haven't really thought that far ahead to be perfectly honest. I didn't want to take away that option when we made the contract but I didn't make a conscious attempt to fulfill that task right away."
That confession didn't really make me feel that much better.
"Why? Were you too busy sampling your future wife?" I retorted nastily. "After all, you're paying me a million dollars. You might as well get your money's worth."
You're goading him at the expense of your own self-worth. Great job, Charlotte. Way to go.
His arms instantly tightened around me and I felt the unmistakable press of his interest against my stomach. There was heat in his eyes as he watched me swallow hard at the realization that he was indeed attracted to me in that way.
"While I would love to pick up that gauntlet you threw down and have my way with you over and over again, Charlotte, I'm not going to do it with you holding that money over our heads and making yourself feel like a whore," he said, releasing me abruptly and turning away.
I bit my lip and chewed on the inside of my cheek. "Why not? I'm already one. Your father said he wanted for you a woman who would genuinely care for you—whose affection couldn't be bought. He's clearly wrong about me in that regard."
He glanced at me. "I suspect my father knows exactly what he's doing, Charlotte. His reasons aren't for you to worry about. You're giving up a year of your life to fulfill this ridiculous ultimatum he gave me and compensating you for it is the least I can do."
"Whatever makes you sleep at night, Brand," I said with a humorless laugh. "If he wanted me to help you or something, he could've just asked. I would've done it for him. There was no need for such a covert operation."
He raised a brow wryly. "Right. Like if he asked you to take up with me and marry me, you would. We both know you hated my guts since the moment you met me."
I haven't always. There was a time, years ago, when I fell in love with this amazing guy Martin kept telling me about. I fancied myself Cinderella and he my prince. Then I grew up and reality struck.
"If you'd been nice and asked me to dinner, I might have said yes," I grumbled sullenly, rolling my eyes. "You could've asked me to get cheeseburgers and fries and I wouldn't have put up an argument."
At the mention of cheeseburgers and fries, Brandon's face twisted into a scowl and I mentally slapped myself.
The last thing this ridiculous conversation needed was rehashing last night's confrontation with Jake about the damned cheeseburgers and fries.
"Are you sure about that?" he asked testily. "Because I distinctly remember you slamming the door on my face last night when I brought you cheeseburgers and fries."
My lips tightened into a thin line. "Yes, well, I'd already eaten. There was nothing special about ordering drive-thru food. I needed it and Jake was there to accompany me. End of story."
His face flushed with anger. "Don't lie, Charlotte. You know it meant something so don't claim otherwise. It was our thing and you went and did it with Jake."
My mouth dropped open in incredulity. "Our thing? Marriage is our thing but you're given special privilege to go off and do your marital duties with someone else. All I did was get fast food with a guy. Sheesh. Get off your high horse."
My momentum faltered when Brandon didn't say anything for what felt like eternity. He just kept looking at me, deep in thought, his eyes inscrutable.
I started to fidget.
"Is that what you want?" he finally said. "Do you want us to exercise our marital duties? To make our marriage real and exclusive for the duration of it? 'Coz I can do that. I want to do that."
There must've been a mini-earthquake that happened in that space of a few seconds when Brandon's words sank in because I nearly lost balance and toppled over.
I blinked, backing away a step when he started walking toward me. "Wait, what? You said you're not interested in that."
A corner of his mouth curled up. "You know that's not true, regardless of what I said in the beginning. Besides, can't a guy change his mind? I want you to be a real wife to me in the year we're married."
My mouth was still hanging open. I couldn't form words.
"Besides, it will solve this problem we have," he said softly, coming up to touch my cheek with the back of his hand. I couldn't turn away to save my life. "You won't ever be put in a position where my fidelity to you is questioned and I get to hold you and make love to you every night that I'll never have to look anywhere else."
My temper flared back in full force and I took another step back from him. Something in my expression must've stopped him because he went no further.
"Right. Because why go through all the trouble of availing yourself of other women when your wife is conveniently available for you to use? You're quite a practical man, Brandon Maxfield. And quite romantic. You just know how to make a girl feel special."
"Charlotte, calm down," he said with an exasperated sigh which only angered me more.
What? Did he think me a child because I have the self-respect not to allow myself to be made into a convenient reliever of his lust?
"I'm perfectly calm, Brandon," I hissed just as my hands balled into fists. "In fact, I'm so perfectly calm and logical that I can say this—I will be your bride in name only and that's it. You will no longer touch me or kiss me or be affectionate to me unless it's absolutely necessary for show. That way, I don't get all these mixed signals and you don't get too interested in getting into my pants. The more distance we put between each other, the clearer the lines remain."
I could see a muscle ticking on Brandon's temple which indicated his frustration.
It wasn't until I saw the flash of steel in his eyes that I realized he was also very, very angry.
"As you wish, Charlotte."
Saying nothing else after that, he walked past me and disappeared around the house.
It didn't take long for me to realize that getting what I wished for wasn't the same thing as becoming happy—not when your happiness was the one person you wished would stay far away from you.
Chapter Ten: The Dangers of Falling In Love
"Jake, I love you forever and ever."
He smiled and rolled his eyes at me just as I stole a couple more gummy bears from the small pack he'd snuck into the wedding rehearsal two days later.
It was lat
e in the morning and Shelly had been making us run through the ceremony sequence in the past hour and a half. The wedding entourage of about twelve people were there at the small private chapel, including the groom of course who only talked to me when necessary.
It was fine by me. I still wasn't happy with Brandon since our fight at his father's house but I was determined to fulfill my role as the perfect wife diligently doing her duties, including bearing the rehearsal with him with civility and a smile on my face. I was sure that the people close to us like Martin and Jake wouldn't miss the strain between us but Martin was very subdued while Jake did his best to keep me company and lighten up my mood. Hence, the gummy bears.
"Do you love me enough to ditch this fancy wedding and run away with me?" Jake asked with a mock-serious expression on his face.
I choked on the candy and he gently clapped my back.
"Don't blurt that out to random girls, Jake," I said with a laugh after I caught my breath and cleared my throat. "Someone might actually take you up on it."
He grinned. "I only ask it from girls I actually want answers from."
"Did you get a yes each time?" I asked, playing along and popping another gummy bear into my mouth.
He shrugged. "I don't know. You're the only one and you haven't given me an answer yet."
Warmth crept on my cheeks and I was about to respond when someone cleared their throat loudly behind us.
Brandon was standing there without expression, barely acknowledging his friend. I tensed up.
We had been given a fifteen-minute break and Jake plied me with gummy bears. Not too long ago, I saw Brandon taking a phone call and pacing away at the front steps of the chapel. I hoped to God he hadn't been standing there for too long because I didn't want to get into another fight with him about Jake who despite his flirtations, was relatively harmless.
Less harmless to my heart anyway.
"Hey, what's up?" I asked gamely, giving him a slight smile.
"Can I talk to you for a minute?" he said, gesturing to the side entrance of the chapel.
I opened my mouth to ask what for but quickly realized that Jake was standing there, watching our exchange. It would be awfully confusing if my fiance needed a whole whack of reasons to just talk to me for a minute. I was marrying the guy after all. I should at least be able to talk to him.
"The break will soon be over though," I said, stalling just a little bit, glancing at the wedding planner who was busy giving directions to the choir director.
One of Brandon's brows arched. "I'm sure she won't start without the bride and the groom. We won't be long."
"Okay, sure." I nodded and thrust Jake the half-empty pack of candy. "I'll see you in a little bit, Jake. Guard my loot for me."
"With my life," he assured me with a grin, pressing the pack to his chest.
I laughed and turned to Brandon whose eyes narrowed just a tiny bit. I sobered up, bracing for a scolding but he said nothing. He just pressed a hand on the small of my back which I fought hard not to react to, steering me to the door.
The small, white chapel looked like it was plucked out of a countryside painting. It was in a small but wide stretch of agricultural land just an hour outside of Boston, landscaped with a sloping meadow and a row of old, large trees with low-hanging branches that lined the property.
I picked it out myself for the more remote location and the pastoral beauty of it. It also happened to be the chapel where I attended my first wedding ever as a child—one of my Mom's friends who asked me to be a flower girl. The chapel looked exactly like it did all those years ago and although this wedding wasn't for true love or anything like that, I still got a thrill from the idea of getting married here.
"So..." I started, letting my voice trail off in hope of prompting Brandon who said nothing since we stepped out on the grassy side yard of the chapel a minute ago.
Brandon looked up at me and I nearly sucked in a breath. The late morning sun streaked through his hair, catching rare glints of red and gold among the thick, dark locks and sculpted his already chiseled features into perfection.
Damn. I missed him. I missed the smile on his face and the warmth in his hazel eyes.
And this is why you avoided spending time alone with him in the last couple of days. Distance, my friend, is your only defense.
Apart from not wanting to lay eyes on him, I also didn't want him laying eyes on me with the same kind of intensity he was doing so right now, as if he could pick through the layers and find me if he stared hard enough.
I tried hard not to squirm. I was in sneakers, jeans, a black shirt and a ponytail—not my most polished look especially in comparison to the sleek and ever-fashionable Simone Clarke if her pictures on the internet were any proof. I told myself it was useless and unhealthy to attempt to measure up to the woman but it was hard not to think about it. Not when I see Brandon who looked sharp and sophisticated as usual, unchanged from how he looked in those pictures with her in some events they attended to how he looked right now, standing in front of me.
And that's why they belong together. You and Brandon are like a mismatched pair of shoes. You'll never look right together.
I inwardly sighed. Before meeting Brandon, I never had any real confidence issues. I was too busy working and dealing with the crap in my life to worry about it. Now I felt inadequate which was another reason as to why we would never work—not even one year together. I'd eventually hate myself for letting my insecurities fester like this.
"Felicity said your stuff is being moved to the penthouse today and tomorrow," he finally said, drawing me out of my thoughts. "Your room is ready but I thought maybe you'd want to check it out yourself and see if there's anything else you need. I don't think you'd really want others to know we have separate bedrooms."
Why not? We're already pretty estranged for a couple who's still three days away from the altar.
"I'm sure it's fine," I said with a shrug. "It can't be any worse than my room now."
He looked at me before letting out a long sigh. "Alright. You'll see it anyway when we arrive there from the wedding. If anything needs to be changed, we can have it done while we're away for the honeymoon for a week."
I swallowed hard at the mention of the honeymoon. Oh, we'd mentioned it so casually before but it just seemed like a theory in my head. After the wedding, I'd actually be off somewhere alone with Brandon in what was most probably a very romantic, private setting.
My stomach churned. Going off on a romantic getaway was not the way to go in avoiding a man you want far away from your heart.
"Um, is the honeymoon necessary?" I asked quietly, biting my lower lip.
Brandon's eyes narrowed. "If we're going to make people believe that we're so crazy about each other we had to get married right away, then yes, it's absolutely necessary. We're already pushing it by only going for a week."
I nodded, reluctant but resigned to his point. "Where are we going anyway?"
Brandon had said before that he was taking care of all of that. Now I wondered if he was making arrangements to bring his mistress with him as well and meet up with her there when he wasn't with me.
For the love of God, Charlotte. Stop. Thinking. About. Them.
"Somewhere you'll like, I hope," he said, cracking the first smile I've seen on him since we saw each other this morning when he picked me up for the drive here. It wasn't even a full smile but it sharpened the ache in my heart.
"You still won't tell me?" I asked in disbelief. "I'm about to start packing and I have no idea what to bring because I have no clue where we're going."
He shrugged. "Bring whatever you'd like. We can always buy you whatever you need when we get there."
"Hmm. That means it'll be somewhere within civilization," I said, rubbing my chin. "Somewhere with electricity and potable water, I assume."
He laughed and I smiled reluctantly despite myself. "We're not going to the middle of a wilderness somewhere, if that's what you're thinking. Yes, t
here will be water and electricity and comfortable accommodations. Don't pack as if you're preparing for the zombie apocalypse."
I feigned disappointment. "No? I was going to bring my combat boots out and my go-bag."
Brandon's smile deepened. "You can still bring them if you want to. I doubt you'll need them but if it makes you happy, then do it."
"Nah," I said, waving a hand in the air. "Felicity might kill me if I do. Do you know that she and Armina ordered me an entire wedding trousseau? Can you imagine that? It's the twenty-first century but she insists it's making a comeback to those who can afford it—you being among them. She told me they've supplied it with the most luxurious lingerie on earth—silks, satins, lace! God! Those two are crazy!"
It wasn't after several heartbeats that I noticed Brandon had fallen quiet and I glanced at him and saw his jaw clenched, his eyes hooded.
"Silks, satins and lace?" he repeated in a distinctly raspy voice.
I flushed, realizing the impact of my words. "Uh, well, yeah. They're lingerie, silly, not underwear. I was assured there was a huge difference and I agreed only on the basis of price. One's affordable and the other's heinously expensive."
"I don't care how expensive they are," was Brandon's quick, almost-stubborn response.
I bit my lip, squeezing my eyes shut in embarrassment and the unwelcome awareness of just how this conversation about lingerie had gotten my imagination roaring—or purring.
"You know you won't get to see me wearing them, right?" I asked gently, rubbing my temple. "It's not worth your expense."
The light in his eyes dimmed but he took a breath as if to steel himself back into our reality. "It's alright. I'll know you're wearing them."
My cheeks continued to burn hot but since I couldn't come up with a discouraging response, I stuck my tongue out at him and he just laughed, his eyes crinkling in the corners.
"Yes. Real sexy, Charlotte," he said with an amused shake of his head before sobering up from what was surely a consistent glare from me.
"Speaking of sexy, I heard Aimee is throwing you a bachelorette party tonight," Brandon said. "Gilles told me you gave him the night off. Who exactly is going to look after you?"
The Mischievous Mrs. Maxfield Page 17
