Professional Liar

by Monica Corwin

  I needed to push her to the edge, force her to open up to me in the only way I’d ever been able.

  I continued my assault, flexing my fingers every so often as to not hurt her. She wouldn’t care, but I would.

  A drop of sweat rolled down the center of my chest, and she dropped her upper body to the bed, pressing her arms and cheeks and face to the sheets.

  I knew she was close to coming as her legs began to quiver and her pussy started to grab me tighter. I slowed a little, gaining more control over myself, and denying her the end her body screamed for.

  “Tell me you like that,” I said loud enough she could hear me over the slap of her ass against me.

  It took her a minute to find words. “I like it. Please, Pierce, stop teasing me.”

  I reached one hand over her thigh between her legs to find her clit and slowed my pace further, barely pushing in and out of her now. “I haven’t even begun to tease you yet.” I circled her clit with my fingers and marveled as her back flexed and she shifted her grip on the gray linen.

  She would always be so perfect like this. Completely herself. No pretense, no games, no lies. Right here, when I shoved inside her, I could see the real Kat. Every other version, I could never be sure.

  “Say my name again,” I panted, moving faster again.

  She whispered it, dark and breathless. “Pierce.”

  And her body took over. Her thighs quaked against my own, her tight little box gripped me harder, and I knew she’d gone over the edge. The second her fingers released the sheets, I took my hand off her clit, clutched her hips tight again, and dragged her body into mine.

  The spark of her orgasm ignited mine, and I fucked her until there was nothing left of me. I’d surrendered everything. She’d just never opted to take it home.

  My heart hammered in my chest, and I held on tight as the last of my orgasm pulsed through me. She let out a breathy sigh and collapsed her legs flat to the bed. I followed her down and rolled over next to her.

  Sweat pooled at my temples, and I watched a tear of it glide down the beautiful arc of her back and disappear in the dark. I stripped off the condom, tossed it in the trash, and scooted closer on the bed.

  “Kat?”

  “Mmmm…” she said, throwing her hand over to pull me into her. I curled up behind her body, molding ours together.

  The sweat, come, tears, none of it mattered as I shifted her close to me. Our pulses beat together fiercely, and I decided I’d try the honesty thing one more time.

  “Kat, are you listening?”

  She gave me another sleepy noise of assent. I wiggled a ring off my little finger and then curled my hand up her waist to trap her left palm between my fingers. Then I slid my mother’s Claddagh onto her left ring finger.

  She jolted against me and then held her hand up into the light of the window. “You can’t give me your mother’s ring.”

  “If you are going to be my wife, then you’re going to wear my family’s ring.”

  She rolled over to face me, her brow damp with sweat. A crease started between her eyebrows as she stared into my eyes. We said nothing, and nothing needed to be said.

  This Irish Mob Prince was about to marry himself a spoiled, rich, pain in the ass, mafia princess.

  And heaven help us both.

  Four

  Katherine

  It took a month to plan the wedding. One month from Pierce agreeing with our naked legs entwined. One month from him slipping a body-warmed ring onto my left hand. One month I should have been excited or happy or nervous.

  I felt…resignation.

  I hadn’t seen Pierce much either, merely sent him texts with times, dates, and directions.

  Fear didn’t skitter down my nerve endings until I lined my heels up with the end of the white runner and Pachelbel’s Canon in D began to play.

  Walking suddenly became something foreign and difficult. You got him to marry you. That was the hard part. Get it together.The silk white runner bisecting row after row after row of pews so much farther than the quick rehearsal two days ago.

  Only the eyes of two hundred people unfroze my feet and pushed me down the aisle. I tried to walk slow, be graceful. But a line of sweat started to drip down the center of my back under the corset my sister cinched too tight. And the pin in my bouquet poked out one side, jabbing me in the index finger. My hair was clipped too tight, and my shoes pinched.

  Maybe everything felt wrong because I deserved it. Guilting Pierce into this marriage, plying him with my body to get what I wanted. That was the plan right? Pierce wouldn’t be here if he didn’t want to be. Now I was just trying to convince myself.

  Was it getting harder to breathe?

  The thought of him made me look up. Through the net veil, I caught sight Pierce at the end of the aisle, and something clicked in place.

  I’d never seen him in a tuxedo. Any event I might catch a glimpse of him where a dress code applied, he just wore black on black jacket, pants, and shirt. Ever the rebel. Ever the bad boy.

  I focused on him as he shifted on his feet. Used him as a lifeline to propel me forward. Hands clasped in front him, his tattoos juxtaposed against the snow white of his rigid cuffs. My mouth watered. Something about all that ink peeking out of formal wear, a reminder, a warning, and soon, all mine.

  He glanced up at me, and walking became easier, despite the crowd of strangers and the fear ping-ponging doubts in my head.

  I went to him. For a few seconds, only we existed. Pierce and me. I closed the final distance on the relationship we both fought for a decade.

  I didn’t have anyone to give me away, so I simply extended my hand to him. A heartbeat passed, and my fear surged back. Would he take it? Instead, he stepped forward and adjusted the veil in my hair so gently. Then he scanned my face, winked, and cupped my outstretched hand in his.

  He seemed perfectly composed leading us both to stand in front of the priest. My heart beat so fast, I feared everyone could hear it, dispelling the rumors once and for all that I didn’t have one.

  The priest began, and I tuned out most of it. I’d been to so many Catholic weddings, I could probably recite his sermon by heart. My entire focus lasered to the grip of Pierce’s fingers on my hand. Gentle and firm, hot against my chilled fingers.

  It lasted minutes.

  It lasted hours.

  It lasted seconds.

  Then he kissed me, and everyone’s loud clapping broke through the haze.

  I remembered speaking, meeting Pierce’s eyes. His brows drawn tight as he slid his ring on my finger. The flash of something I couldn’t name in his eyes when I slid mine on his.

  Everything else blurred as if I hopped in an elevator and skipped every floor to this moment. Pierce escorted me up the aisle by the hand. The crowd pelted us with rice and flowers.

  Pierce pulled me into the limo at the curb, and the world caught up, snapping back. I could still hear the cheering outside as the car turned into traffic toward the reception. The scent of him surrounded me, and I jerked the veil out of my hair and tossed it on the opposite seat.

  I wished I could strip out of everything. The entire outfit hurt somewhere.

  I barely had time to sit back before he dragged me across the leather seats and perched me on his lap. “You’re stuck with me now.”

  I thought he meant it as a joke, but the sincerity and uncertainty in his tone as he said it chipped some of the ice off my heart.

  “I think I’ve always been stuck with you,” I said. I scanned his face, let the familiar scent of his soap, smoky and masculine wash away some of the haze of the ceremony.

  “You’re right. We were both just too stupid to realize it from the beginning. We could have saved each other a lot of trouble if you weren’t so damn stubborn.”

  “Hey, that’s your wife you’re talking about.”

  He leaned in and kissed me, not gently like the ceremony. His hand curled around the back of my neck, and he ravaged my lips with all the pent
up energy of a man starved. His teeth scraped my own. His tongue took control of my mouth, dragging me in deeper. Every bit of fear I’d succumbed to only an hour ago drifted away.

  Pierce, my Pierce.I fell into him, let him grind me in by the hips with his free hand. Despite his ferocity, he handled my dress carefully, and it chipped another chunk of ice loose in my chest. I broke the kiss and sat back into the cradle his hands created.

  “We are getting out of the car in ten minutes. We need to be presentable for the pictures,” I said, a little breathless.

  “Do we have to do pictures?” His tired puppy face made me smile.

  “The three thousand dollars we paid the photographer says we do. Besides, this marriage needs to check out, or else the attorney might not release my inheritance.”

  He tensed, and his face blanked like the slow descent of shades over a sunny window. “This marriage is real.” He said it flat. Dead. Empty.

  I knew I couldn’t backtrack from my big mouth, so I kept moving forward. “I know this is real. I just meant, people get pictures, so we need to get pictures too.”

  “Normal people,” he echoed, face still carefully clear.

  I wrapped my hands around his neck and rested my forehead on his. “You know what I mean. Please don’t make my words more than they are. I haven’t eaten anything yet today, I can barely breathe in this corset, and I don’t have the energy for a fight.”

  He tilted his head back to meet my eyes. “Corset?”

  Heat tracked up into my cheeks. Fun lingerie hardly pinged on our risqué radar, and yet, the quiet innocence of the question burned my ears. “Yes, corset, and if you’re a good boy, I might let you see it.”

  He started sifting under layers of fabric, and I slapped his hand. “Not now. Pictures, remember?”

  The limo stopped, and he groaned. “More people.”

  Our mutual distaste for people as a collective was something I always loved about him.

  The car door opened, and the driver stuck his hand in to help me climb out. There wasn’t much give in the tight confines of my skirt, so exiting wasn’t graceful. Pierce stood on the curb buttoning his jacket when I finally got upright.

  Once I stood with a huff, he held out his elbow. A distinctly gentlemanly behavior for a man who was decidedly not. I curled my hand around his arm, and he led me to the reception hall’s garden for pictures.

  The photographer was a plump woman in her mid-thirties. She wore a black dress and a variety of straps around her neck. She stepped forward, clutching a serious camera in her hands. “Ready?” she asked brightly.

  I stopped at the edge of the dew-strewn grass. I barely had time to formulate a plan for the dress when Pierce lifted me easily and continued walking. I grabbed his neck, praying he wouldn’t drop me, knowing he wouldn’t unless I said something stupid. The snap of her camera began as I peered up at him. The hard lines of his jaw, the gray-black swirl of ink tracking up his neck. Once he reached the cobblestone in the middle of where she wanted us, he put me on my feet, balancing me until I nodded.

  “I like the shoes,” he whispered as he turned to smile at the camera.

  The black Louboutins didn’t match the creamy off white of my dress, and neither did the red soles, but they were my mothers, and I couldn’t fathom wearing anything else on my wedding day.

  The photographer came around, moving the train of my dress, positioning appendages and faces in an indifferent and efficient manner. It didn’t take long for her to announce she’d finished. Pierce picked me up again and carried me back over the grass. More camera clicks as we walked away. He didn’t put me down this time, but held me all the way back to the limo.

  The driver shut the door behind us and wandered off down the sidewalk. I shifted, leather creaking, to face Pierce. “Shouldn’t we be getting inside?”

  “I think we have a few minutes.”

  “Oh?”

  “We need to discuss a few things.”

  A knot tied my lungs together, simultaneously robbing me of air and instilling a pang in my chest. “Sure, what did you want to talk about?”

  He ran his thumb down the edge of my cheek. “You are so beautiful.”

  The knot loosened slightly. “Thank you. So are you.”

  “My family can be difficult. I felt I should warn you. Once they start drinking, it will get worse. If anyone fights, I’ll have my guys throw them out. Just ignore them.”

  “Okay.”

  “Anything I should know about your family?”

  “I don’t have much left. The extended family will likely ignore you and your family. Bianca won’t though. Be nice to her, please.”

  He ducked his head to force me to meet his eyes. They looked black from the shadows of the limo and the tinted windows. “She means a lot to you, doesn’t she?”

  I shrugged. Considering she was the reason I sat here in a wedding dress, I thought it didn’t need answered, but I didn’t want to say that so he didn’t question my words or intentions again.

  “Are you ready to go inside? My guards will be in there roaming around. So we should be safe.”

  I sighed heavily, as best I could with restricted lung capacity. “Let’s go make nice with two hundred people who probably want one or both of us dead.”

  “It’s probably only about a hundred and fifty. Many of the kids haven’t been taught to hate either of us yet.”

  I snorted, and as if he knew when to let us out, the door opened again, and Pierce climbed out to pull me to my feet. “Thank you.”

  As the heavy wood swung in so we could enter the hall, Pierce leaned in. “By the way, the second I get you alone, I’m stripping you bare. I want to see every single inch of what’s mine.”

  His words heated and enraged me at the same time. I lifted my chin and pasted on a smile. “We are on the same page then. I’m going to take that bowtie off you with my teeth. Once I get you naked, I’ll be taking inventory of what’s mine.”

  The corner of his mouth tipped up, but we didn’t have time for more back and forth as we joined our guests.

  The hours wore on, my face hurt from smiling, and Pierce didn’t leave my side for a second. Everyone sighed and oohed as my aunt caught the bouquet. Everyone ribbed Pierce as he dove under my dress for the garter.

  As things began winding down, I leaned in to ask if he wanted to go when something shattered across the room.

  Near the dance floor, one of Pierce’s brothers, Irin, held Bianca’s wrist tight in one hand, her glass of champagne broken between them. We both surged to our feet, Pierce faster as I fought my dress to get up and around the table.

  Pierce made it there first. I only caught the low whispers as I approached. His brother jerked away from Pierce and headed for the exit. “What the hell was that?” I demanded staring between him and Bianca.

  “Nothing you need to worry about,” Pierce said.

  Anger had slowly been building since I saw Irin with his hand on my sister. Now, it exploded through me. I leaned in and jerked him down by the tuxedo lapel. “You do not tell me what I need to worry about,” I whispered loud and urgently.

  Bianca backed away and skittered toward the bar for a new drink. Pierce broke my grip on his jacket and tucked my hand in his hard, pasting on a polite smile. “Let’s go.” His tone said the opposite of the soft upturn of his lips.

  Damn him. Damn. Him.

  This was the exact reason I’d fought against marriage, especially to him, for so long. The second the ceremony ended, they assumed they owned you.

  I ripped my hand free, gathered my dress up, and marched toward the door without his help.

  He needed to learn I didn’t answer to him. I got to the sidewalk before he joined me. The driver pulled the car up just as I came outside. I went straight for the door handle, but Pierce grabbed it first and opened it. I glared as I climbed inside.

  He followed, and the car took off. The tension filled silence cracked and popped between us until I couldn’t stand it anymor
e. “What the hell was that?”

  “You’re making a big deal out of nothing.”

  I rolled my eyes and dropped my head onto the leather. “Typical,” I said. Then louder, “Driver, please take me to my penthouse.”

  He didn’t acknowledge the order. Pierce shifted closer. “He’s taking us to my house, not yours.”

  “Why? My house is better.”

  “My Italian marble would disagree with your quartz countertops,” he said and grinned.

  I didn’t match it, still angry. “I’m not playing with you. Take me home.”

  “I’ll take you home. To my house. Our house. Not some rented corner of a random building which could be surrounded by who knows how many enemies.”

  “My penthouse is safe.”

  “And my house has an arsenal and ten men on guard duty. How many do you have at yours? Oh that’s right. You don’t believe in bodyguards. We are going to my house, end of discussion.”

  I struggled to breathe, the corset pinching tighter with every exhale. The memories of my father cutting across my mother with those exact same words were too close. I loved my mother, but I wasn’t her.

  She gave up everything for her husband.

  I’d give everything to mine.

  She fawned and preened for a man who didn’t want her.

  My man would never want anyone but me.

  She swallowed a hand full of pills when my father turned into a despicable monster.

  No man would ever treat me like that. And if I went down, I’d sure as hell take him with me.

  I straightened in the seat and glared fucking shotgun shells at him. “Say end of discussion one more fucking time.”

  Five

  Pierce

  She scowled at me silently for the entire twenty minutes it took to reach my house. When we arrived, I climbed out and extended my hand to help her, but she ignored it. So I let her stubborn ass wrangle free from the car all on her own.