by Mia Carson
Billy picked up the folder he had carried in with him. “I’ll make sure it gets done. You want me to stay the night and make sure she doesn’t try to rob you or…I don’t know, tie you up in the middle of the night?”
“I’m twice her size. I think I can handle myself.”
“Fine, fine, just remember I offered.” Billy slid the unopened beer back towards Vincent. “I’ll call you when it’s taken care of, and do you still want to have the reception a week from today?”
“Shit, I forgot about that.”
“I can cancel if you want. No invitations have been sent yet.”
Vincent considered it, but though her name had changed, he knew Natalie as well as he would have known Lana. “Nah, keep it. We’ll be fine.”
“Good. See you Monday at the office. Call me if you change your mind.”
Vincent walked him out and locked the door behind him. His eyes landed on the single suitcase dropped off that morning. Natalie’s things. There was no reason he couldn’t continue to be the nice guy she told him he was, so he picked up the suitcase and carried it upstairs with him. She stood outside the doorway to one of the three guest rooms upstairs.
“I figured I would sleep in one of these rooms,” she said quietly. “I could have grabbed that.”
“No need,” he said and set the suitcase down beside her. “Listen, a week from today is our official reception for friends and family. A few reporters will probably be there, too. You still up for doing this with me?”
“It’s what I signed up for,” she said, trying to lighten the mood. “Vincent, I just want to say…uh, thank you for not throwing me out on my ass.”
He smiled softly. “Like I said, I’m still pissed and this might not be the easiest beginning to a marriage, but I’m pretty sure my dad would roll over in his grave if I simply threw my new wife out onto the street without giving us both a chance to make this work.”
She picked up her bag, and with one final nervous look, she walked into the bedroom. He considered following her in but decided she might need her space.
“There’s food in the kitchen whenever you’re hungry,” he told her. “I’ll be around, too, if you want to talk some more.” He backed away and went to change out of his tux, closing his bedroom door. He stared at the knob for a few long seconds before he locked it too.
What happened to trusting her? he scolded himself as he shrugged out of his shirt and kicked out of his shoes.
“Time,” he told his reflection. “All we need is some time.”
When he closed his eyes, he felt her lips against his again, his hands wrapped around her body and her blatant want for him as he wanted her. He’d been with plenty of women before, but none of them made him ache for their touch. Hoping a cold shower would help, he turned the faucet on and stepped in, wondering what the next few weeks would bring.
5
Natalie fell asleep with hope that this situation would work out for the best. Vincent seemed more than ready to give it a try once he realized he’d spoken with Natalie the whole time and not her sister, but as the next few days wore on, she believed he regretted his decision to keep her around almost immediately.
Sunday passed with her wandering around the house and picking through the library she’d found the day before. There were several interesting titles she was curious to page through and occupied her time reading from the comfort of the couch. Vincent checked on her once or twice throughout the day, each time opening his mouth as if to ask her questions, but he would smile quickly and walk away. Dinner was dreadful, both eating only to get away from the table and hide from each other again. The house was large enough that it was easy to make herself disappear. She considered talking to him Monday when he came home from the office, but the scowl on his face let her know he was in a pissy mood. Gruffly, he told her he would be on the phone all evening in his study and apologized for not being able to spend time with her.
Tuesday, while he was at the office again, Natalie busied herself with tracking down some cookbooks in the library and whipping together a good old-fashioned steak and potatoes dinner with a flair. She was pouring the red wine when he walked in.
“You don’t have to cook for me,” were the first words out of his mouth, and Natalie’s chest tightened, fighting back her hurt.
“I know, but I thought you might enjoy a meal when you came home. I don’t mind. Besides,” she added, handing him a glass of wine, “what would everyone think if they knew your wife didn’t cook for her husband every now and then?”
His eyes narrowed and he sat down hard at the kitchen table. “We’re still working on the husband and wife thing, remember?”
Natalie pushed her tongue against her upper lip, annoyed, and cut into her steak. “You’re right, sorry. I won’t mention it again.”
“Natalie.”
“Huh?”
“Your piercings. You put them all back in.”
She tugged at her right ear. “I have to wear them every now and then or the holes will close.”
“What if someone came to the door today?” he asked, not looking at her. “Did you wear that all day, too?” He motioned to her typical sweatshirt and denim shorts.
Natalie breathed in and out, counting to ten in her mind. “Yes, I did. I only brought so many clothes. The rest of my stuff won’t be delivered until next week. Do you have an issue with how I look?”
“I told you, public appearance is very important,” he reminded her stiffly. “You can’t have the piercings at the reception.”
“Whatever you say, dear,” she snapped and pushed back from the table.
“Where are you going? You didn’t even touch your food.”
“I’m not hungry, thanks.” She poured more wine into her glass, picked up the book she’d read all day from the counter, and trudged upstairs to her bedroom. Her eyes skimmed over the words, but none of them registered in her mind. What happened to the Vincent she’d warmed up to on Saturday? The man willing to give her a chance—give them a chance? She stayed in her room for the remainder of the night, not daring to venture out until she heard his door slam around midnight.
Saturday finally arrived and Natalie dreaded it. She slipped into the one nice outfit she’d packed, her snug black slacks, short black heels, white blouse, belt, and red tank to wear underneath. She did her hair, curling it and pulling the curls up with pins. Her makeup was simple, and she only wore a single pair of silver studs with a matching necklace resting above her cleavage. She stared at her reflection for several long minutes, hating how Vincent’s attitude and words the past few days had started to wear her down so she second-guessed whether she looked good enough for him. Years ago, she hadn’t given a shit what anyone thought, and then the accident happened. After that, she locked herself away in her apartment, angry at the world for turning against her for something that wasn’t even her fault.
“Ready?” Vincent asked, knocking on her door.
“Yeah, just a second.” She smoothed her hands down her slacks and opened her door. “Is this appropriate?”
“You don’t have a skirt or dress?”
Setting her jaw, she pushed past him for the stairs. “No, and if I have to change we’ll be late.”
He muttered something behind her, but she tuned him out, picked up her purse, and walked out the front door. A car was waiting for them this evening, and she didn’t wait for him before she walked to the back door and the driver opened the door for her. She sucked in a deep breath before she climbed inside and closed her eyes, hoping she wouldn’t get sick on the way to the hotel. Her annoyance at Vincent helped her focus on something other than the vehicle she was in. The drive to the hall was horribly awkward, but no worse than the night before. That had been atrocious. He’d come to her in the library and said they had to go over a simple plan to explain to people how they met and why they kept their relationship and wedding a secret. She wanted to tell him why not tell the truth and simply print out her twin sister’s profile s
ince that was who he really wanted by his side, but she bit back the words and did her best to help him.
They agreed to say they met at a Rangers game two years ago and had dated ever since, always keeping it private so news of her dating life wouldn’t affect her career.
“What is your job anyway, if you’re not a paralegal?” he’d asked.
“Junior college professor,” she’d told him. “It’s why I currently have nothing to do. I don’t teach classes over the summer.”
“I thought you didn’t like to be around people?”
“I don’t. I teach the online courses.”
If he was really curious about what she taught, he didn’t bother asking and she wasn’t offering anymore answers to make it easier for him. If this was the real Vincent Cunningham, she was glad her sister had not been the one to go through with the wedding. Lana was too nice for her own good, and this man would have walked all over her.
“You know everything you’re supposed to say?” he asked as the car parked outside the hotel, and she released her grip on the edge of the seat. They’d made it in one piece.
“Do you?” she challenged.
The annoyance on his face was no match for what she felt. The driver opened the door before he could respond, and she slid out of the back seat, making him keep up with her so they could walk into the hall together.
You said you weren’t going to fuck with his career, she reminded herself sternly. Stop being a bitch and suck it up, princess.
She waited for him outside the door and held out her hand. “Ready, dear?” she asked, trying to sound like a happily married wife and not pissed off.
Vincent took her hand firmly in his and planted a kiss on the back of it as the doors opened from the inside. “Always.”
They walked in as one of the band members on the stage across the room announced them. “May I introduce to you Mr. and Mrs. Vincent Cunningham! Can they get a round of applause, people?”
The hall erupted in loud cheers and whistles, clapping and shouts of well wishes as the band started playing what was supposedly their song. Vincent led her out to the dance floor and spun her out far before drawing her into his arms as the music played and everyone gathered around the edge of the dance floor.
“This is the song you picked?” he whispered.
“I thought it was very fitting,” she said as Lana Del Rey’s Love sounded around them.
Being this close to him again awoke the sense of belonging within her and the insane urge to kiss him in front of everyone, but she remembered how the week had gone and kissing him was the last thing on her mind. She struggled to keep a smile on her face and make it look like she had a good time with her husband. The song finally ended, and Vincent held up their clasped hands. Now the fun would really begin, and Natalie braced herself for an onslaught of questions. Most were thankfully directed at Vincent, and she let him take the lead. She shook hands and introduced herself to his colleagues and family friends, and even his mother, Doris, who sauntered over with a man on her arm.
“You are certainly a sight to behold, my dear,” Doris exclaimed and hugged her close. “I’ll be expecting grandchildren now, don’t you forget that.”
Natalie burst out laughing as Vincent’s face turned five shades of red and he ground his teeth. “Mom, really? You can’t wait to do that later?”
“Do what later? I’m simply telling this adorable woman about my hopes and dreams.”
“Tell her about them later, for the love of God,” he muttered.
Doris waved her hand in her son’s face, and Natalie covered her laughter with a loud cough. Vincent shot her a look as he tried to speak with a few more people. They all noticed the sudden spike in tension between them, and Natalie was tempted to reach over and pinch his arm. If he couldn’t wipe that damn scowl off his face, no one would believe they were happily married. After an hour of him explaining to people about how they met and warding off any questions that dug too deep into the personal lives they clearly didn’t know, Vincent looked ready to lose it. Natalie’s hand tapped his, but he snatched it away quickly.
“I need to get some air. If you’ll excuse me,” he announced abruptly and walked away from the group of people he was talking to, mostly other business owners who were clearly interested in his upcoming campaign.
“My, is he all right, dear?” one of the women asked Natalie politely.
“I think it’s work, and he had a cold earlier this week,” she lied. “Nothing to worry about. I’m sure you know how men get when they’re sick,” she added with a wink, and the older women around her laughed knowingly. “If you’ll excuse me? I’ll go check on him.”
Natalie stopped by the bar and snagged two glasses and a bottle of whiskey before she stalked out of the hall. A few people pointed her helpfully towards the doors leading to the gardens outside the hotel. Vincent was ruining his night. She was trying her best to be happy and make a good impression for him, and what did he do? Sulk and destroy this relationship before it even had a chance to get started. He was a damn hypocrite, and she would not watch him sabotage himself on a night as important as their reception. He’d never told her why he wanted to run for Congress, but she had an inkling it had to do with his late father.
She walked through the gardens teeming with beautiful flowers in bloom and a burbling stream that ran under an iron bridge. The grounds were empty except for her and the man she found leaning on the railing of the bridge, glaring into the water.
“You keep staring that hard, your face will stick,” she said as she joined him.
“I said I needed some air,” he grumbled.
“No, what you need is whiskey. Here,” she said and poured him a glass, along with one for herself, and set the bottle down. She clinked her glass against his. “Cheers.” She shot the whiskey back in one swallow, smacking her lips and shuddering at the burn down her throat. “Damn, I picked a good bottle.”
“What are you trying to do?”
“I’m trying to keep this night going for you while you seem content to ruin it.”
His eyes widened. “You’re joking, right?”
“Who’s standing there looking like the most dejected man in the world? That would be you. Who’s been nothing but an asshole all week? Also, you. I said I would stand by your side and not fuck up your career and I meant it. Did you?”
“Did I what?” he snapped.
“Did you really mean it when you said you wanted to make this work? See if it could? Or were you practicing your lying skills before you hit the campaign trail next year?” All the anger she’d bottled up throughout the week seeped beyond her control, and she poured another full shot of whiskey, hoping to keep herself in some semblance of calm. Vincent’s eyes slipped to the bottle and he took it from her.
“You don’t get to sit there and yell at me when you’ve spent the week in the bottle! You never told me you were a damn drunk!”
Natalie paused with the glass against her lips. “A drunk? I haven’t been drunk since I met you, though tonight, I might get damn close.”
“Sure, lie about that too. What else are you hiding from me?”
“Nothing, you asshole! I have not been drunk.”
His laugh was sharp and grated on her nerves. “So those nights when I talked to you, asked you questions and you agreed to change, and then the next day you acted as if we never spoke at all? You weren’t drunk those nights? Really?”
Natalie set the glass down. On second thought, she threw the whole thing into the water. Vincent blinked in surprise when she yanked the bottle from his hands and sent it over the railing too, along with his glass before he even had a chance to drink it.
“If I was a drunk, do you really think I would let that liquor go to waste?”
“Then explain to me why you act like you don’t remember our conversations.”
She sighed and gripped the railing. She’d hoped to avoid getting into the details of her accident so soon into their relationship, but
if she was having conversations with him and not remembering, then there was no avoiding it. “During the accident, I suffered severe head trauma. It mostly affects my short-term memory, but some long-term,” she explained quietly. “There are days I have trouble remembering my childhood or recognizing friends—most of the time, actually.”
Vincent’s whole demeanor changed as he cursed under his breath and leaned on the railing beside her. “Why didn’t you tell me that a week ago?”
“It’s a sensitive subject.” She leaned on her arms and watched lightning bugs light up the garden. “I’m sorry for not telling you and for forgetting things. Just another lovely tidbit I picked up from the accident.”
“Along with your fear of cars.”
She was thinking of something else but nodded. “Yeah, that makes life difficult.”
His hand moved down the railing until it rested on hers. “I think I owe you an apology.”
“You think?” she agreed. “Do you really not like my piercings? Or my clothes?”
His laugh was accompanied by a grimace. “I didn’t mean it to come across so harshly. I happen to find your piercings extremely hot, as well as your sweatshirt and those damn shorty shorts.” He picked up her hand so he could hold it, running his thumb over her knuckles in a soothing manner. “This political crap isn’t new to me. I know what Mom and Dad went through with me running around being the bachelor billionaire. I nearly cost Dad the election a few times.”
“And you want him and everyone else to be proud of you,” she murmured. “I get it, I do.”
“I don’t think you do. I wasn’t mad at you this week, Natalie. I was mad at myself and the pressures already building. Billy’s been on my ass about if this blows up in our face, and suffice it to say, I’ve never handled stress well.”
Gently, he turned her so they faced each other. His dark chocolate eyes glimmered with a sudden hunger, and Natalie’s toes curled in response.
