Married to Trouble

by Carmen Falcone

  She nodded, disappointment softening her features. “Really?”

  He sighed. “Really. Unless I go buy some downstairs.”

  Clarissa smiled. “Yes. Please.”

  He put his achy, still-hard rod in his pants. “Are you sure about this? Having sex with me? You don’t have to do anything just because you think I’m mad.”

  “I want you, Beck. I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you. My pussy is pulsing… my breasts are throbbing…”

  He snatched her into his arms, and their mouths molded together. She wrapped herself around him again, and he had to use every ounce of determination not to slam into her sweet cunt right and there, without any protection. When he managed to disengage from her, they both breathed heavily, his heart pounded every beat. “I’ll go get the condoms.”

  The elevator door opened with a bing, and Beck exited into the lobby. A swarm of people crossed his path, a bunch of high-rolling tourists discussing what show to watch. The only show Beck hoped to watch entailed a very naked Clarissa and him, in a large bed.

  Excitement moved through him, and he amped his pace. When had it been the last time he’d wanted to make love with this much urgency? He’d dated a very special woman—a gifted lawyer named Nancy— for two years. He’d entertained the idea of marrying her, but something inside pulled him back. He wasn’t ready to commit unless he knew for sure it’d be permanent. He never wished to have multiple marriages, like his father.

  Oh, the irony…

  Right now, he focused on screwing her. Sure, in the long run intimacy with Clarissa could lead him into trouble. For the time being, he needed the distraction to forget about how much like his father he’d really become—enough to agree to a superficial marriage only to benefit his career.

  Across the large lobby, he saw the convenience store. Yes. He’d buy the condoms and to the hell with self-doubt and problems. Why not take advantage of his newly acquired husband duties?

  “Beck,” said a male voice behind him. Beck balked, recognizing Garubo’s raspy baritone even before he turned around and faced him.

  “Yes,” he said.

  The two bodyguards walked behind Garubo. Beck imagined those two cage fighters in suits had seen a lot.

  “I wanted to talk to you alone. Let’s go grab a drink,” Garubo said, gesturing to the swanky bar to the right.

  “I’d love to, but Clarissa is waiting for me. ,” Beck said, I have to go back upstairs and screw your daughter silly. He motioned to keep on walking, but Garubo pat his back and angled closer.

  “This will be quick. I just need to talk to my new son-in-law, and didn’t want to do so in front of Clarissa.”

  “Sure. Just a drink,” Beck said.

  Just a drink.

  He didn’t want to have a heart-to-heart with Garubo, but couldn’t brush him off easily. At the same time, he still coveted his account to nail the partnership deal, Beck didn’t want to know anything about Garubo’s other businesses. The less he knew about those, the better.

  They sat on a corner booth, on a side away from most people. Garubo had quickly surpassed the folks waiting to enter. A quick chat with the hostess and his VIP seating arrangement had materialized. Did they admire or fear him? Probably, a bit of both.

  After they ordered their drinks, Garubo made a hand gesture, and his bodyguards waited at the entrance.

  “I have to say today went much differently than what I had expected,” Garubo started.

  You and me both. “I understand,” Beck said. He toyed with the idea of calling their suite to tell Clarissa he was chatting with her father, but he didn’t want to worry her. What if she decided to join them? Best to get this awkward drink over with.

  “You know… Clarissa looks a lot like her mother. So much so, that after Bianca’s death I had a hard time looking at her.”

  Garubo frowned, and then smoothed his hand on his slick dark hair. Too dark for his age, without a trace of grey.

  “Because my wife meant a lot to me,” Garubo said, angling closer.

  Beck gave him a slow nod. “I’m sorry.”

  “I don’t take marriage lightly, Beck. I never did and never will. People get hitched then they give up on each other after the first hiccup,” Garubo said, his eyes remote like he talked about an event much closer to him than just a vague comment.

  “Unfortunately, it doesn’t always work out.”

  Garubo nodded. “I know your father divorced four times. I had my team research you when I suggested you drive my daughter to Vegas,” he said, mentioning their chat the previous week, when Beck had attempted to bring his business to his firm. That meeting had certainly gone different than Beck had imagined—Garubo received a phone call from his daughter, and asked Beck if he’d fly to NY to drive her back because she hated flying.

  “I’m not proud of my father’s mistakes,” he said truthfully. Beck touched his neck, even though he wore an open collar shirt. Garubo’s probe made him uncomfortable, but he didn’t back down. “I’m not my father,” he said with the confidence of a person who believed it.

  Garubo smiled. “Good,” he said, then the smile disappeared. “Because if you hurt my daughter in any way, you’re finito.”

  Finito. Got it. “Mr. Garubo, with all due respect— he said, adamant on telling him he accepted no threats.

  “Hello.” The busty waitress returned with their drinks, alleviating some of the tension between them.

  Beck lifted his tumbler to his mouth, and savored the smoky scotch rolling down his throat. “Mr. Garubo, I know this is all a surprise to you, and I appreciate your support. But I won’t deal with threats. I’ve married your daughter and I intend on making her happy. She’s the one who’ll judge my efforts. Not you,” he said evenly.

  Garubo stared at him squared in the eye. “Fair enough. I also know you might make partner in your firm if you get my account.”

  “Honestly, sir, you knew from the beginning this could be a possibility—wasn’t it why you asked me personally to drive your daughter to Vegas? To make up your mind?”

  “Of course.” Garubo sat back on his chair, taking his glass with him. “I have to trust someone to represent my affairs—especially my legal affairs. The businesses your firm would represent come from my wife’s side of the family. And I swore to her I’d always keep those according to the law.”

  “A remarkable decision.”

  “Which is why before I give you my business, I’m willing to trust you with something much more valuable that shows how much your being a new family member means… a family secret.”

  4

  Clarissa rubbed her eyes, then opened them. She yawned, glancing around the bedroom.

  She expected to find Beck’s large frame next to her, but she was alone in bed. The alarm clock on the nightstand read ten o’clock. Did he change his mind about the whole thing and just leave? Her heart sank.

  She’d waited for his return until after midnight. She’d called him a couple of times, but he hadn’t picked it up or texted. He left me. She wouldn’t know what it was like to have sex with him—they’d come so close. She should have mentioned she was on a birth control pill to help fix her period instabilities. Beck was a worldly guy, and probably felt safer if he was in charge of birth control. Perhaps he wouldn’t even believe she was on it, too—especially after her goading him into the marriage.

  “Morning,” he said in a deep, sexy voice.

  She turned her head to face him carrying a breakfast tray, filled with pastries, juices and more. Fully clothed and with his hair wet. Her heart did an impossible flip in her chest.

  Don’t get any ideas. This marriage is just a practicality. Though there was nothing practical about how her body reacted to him. Now she understood what he meant about sex making things more complicated… yet it was too late to go back.

  “When did you come back?” she asked.

  “After one. I’m sorry. I ran into your father in the lobby and he summoned me for drinks. He t
alked a lot, and I couldn’t just ditch him.”

  “Okay. Hmmm…” she glanced down at the tray. “Bacon. This is an obvious sign the rest of my day will be amazing.”

  He lifted a piece of bacon and she opened her lips. Soon, the crunchy meat slid into her mouth, and she tasted the warm, salty flavor. When she finished, she licked her upper lip, and realized he’d been watching her, his gaze darting between her lips and eyes.

  “What?”

  “I never considered eating pork an erotic experience… until now,” he said, looking at her like she was the main mean of a starved man.

  A wave of heat spread across her face and neck. She reached for the glass of water took a sip, desperate to cool her ardor. “And here I thought a guy like you had seen it all.”

  “So did I,” he said softly, then blinked and stood up. “So. I was supposed to drop you off two nights ago, and go back to my place. Now, I need to go back and you should come with me. Since we’re married.”

  “Thank you,” she said.

  He nodded. “I’ll let you finish eating and gather your stuff.”

  * * *

  An hour later, he opened the door of a penthouse in an exclusive area in Vegas. She walked into his domain, appreciating the modern décor with a few traditional touches. The dark hardwood floor added warmth to the set of buttery leather sofas and the state-of-the-art entertainment center.

  “I’ll put your stuff in the guest room,” he said. “My drawers need some overhauling.”

  Did he mean she’d also be sleeping in the guest room? The question burned on the tip of her tongue, but she hesitated. “Thanks.”

  The doorbell rang, and she almost sighed out loud. She opened it, and found a slim, tall woman in her sixties wearing an elegant suit and an Anna Wintour-type hairstyle. “May I help you?” she asked as if she worked in a designer store and that lady was her most exclusive client.

  “You must be my son’s new bride. I’m Katherine, his mother.”

  His mother. Of course. She had the same eyes as Beck.

  Feeling silly, Clarissa stretched out her hand. “It’s so nice to meet you,” she said. During their drive from NY to Vegas, he hadn’t talked much about his parents or childhood. So, Clarissa opted to leave out any I’ve heard so much about you bullshit.

  Katherine gave her a firm handshake, with a smile.

  “Please, come in.” Clarissa gestured for her newish mother-in-law.

  Before she said anything else, she heard Beck’s footfalls. Would his presence make it less or more awkward? “Mom. I didn’t expect to see you today,” he said.

  Katherine arched her eyebrow. “I know we’re to have our weekly lunch tomorrow, but when my friend Jacquie told me she saw you entering a chapel with a woman, I just had to make sure and see it for myself.”

  “Of course… meet Clarissa Garubo,” he said.

  “Anderson. Remember, honey?” I’m Clarissa Anderson now. She winked at her husband, who sadly still saw her as her father’s daughter. Her heart raced at the base of her throat. Why did that matter so much?

  Katherine placed her Chanel bag on the console table, and turned around. “Garubo? As in Antonio Garubo?” she asked, and even though the elegant lady didn’t flinch, a pang of surprise leaked into her voice. Clarissa knew such reaction well.

  “Yes,” she said at once.

  “Interesting,” Katherine clutched her pearl necklace. “When did you two meet?”

  “It’s a long story,” Beck said.

  “Then make it short,” Katherine said, then a vivacious chuckle filled the air. “I mean, this is a shock to me. Weren’t you going to tell me? I didn’t even know you were dating.”

  Beck shook his head, and sighed with frustration. “Mother, I’m not seventeen. You don’t have to know everything.”

  “How about some coffee? Or a mimosa? A shot of tequila?” Clarissa asked.

  Katherine sat on the couch. “If my son got married without me, I might need all three.”

  Clarissa nodded. “I’m sorry this is so sudden. We’re planning on throwing a bigger party for friends and family. And of course we’d love for you to be part of it.”

  “Mom, can I speak with you in private?” he asked.

  Clarissa watched him take his mother to what she assumed was his home office. She wondered exactly what he’d tell Katherine—the truth or their version of it. Clarissa headed to the kitchen, for a moment pondering on mixing tequila, mimosa and coffee into one train wreck of a drink. Why couldn’t he just talk to his mother in front of her?

  Because this isn’t a real marriage. He doesn’t owe me anything. She had pushed for the marriage, to have a better chance at taking what was rightfully hers and protecting her mother’s legacy. But, for the first time, a pang of disappointment moved through her.

  Beck closed the door.

  His mother’s visit had lasted longer than usual. Clarissa had been the perfect hostess, and ordered some delicious Thai food for them to enjoy while they talked. His mother didn’t believe him at first—and he almost told her the truth.

  The truth, however, meant he was a lot like his father. So he had just said he’d fallen irresistibly in love with Clarissa and in an uncharacteristic way, decided to take the plunge and marry her. When you know, you know. Wasn’t what people said about love and relationships?

  By the time his mother left, he saw in her eyes a twinkle of hope. She personally didn’t support his decision to get hitched so quickly, but she probably understood why a woman like Clarissa swayed him.

  Gorgeous, intelligent and kind. He supposed he could do a lot worse in a fake marriage.

  “Your mother is nice. Didn’t she ever remarry after the divorce?” Clarissa loaded the dishwasher. The sight of a woman doing chores in his place was both confusing and surprisingly alluring. The only woman who came near to his dishwasher was the housekeeper. He never dated domesticated types, and Nancy hadn’t enjoyed spending time at his place. She preferred to eat out, where they discussed their cases and work related stuff.

  “No. She had a hard time after my dad left her for wife number two,” he said, wishing his voice didn’t sound so damn sad. Until his tenth birthday, his father had been his hero without a cape. He’d looked up to him, even if he was usually busy with his successful law firm. After the selfish way his father had simply left them, a lot had changed.

  Clarissa shrugged. “I understand. My father never remarried either. Maybe he should have.”

  “Marriage isn’t for everyone,” he said.

  Clarissa closed the dishwasher a tad harshly. “You’re not the marrying kind, are you? Is this making you uncomfortable?”

  He found an empty glass of wine, and splashed some water in it, washing. “I don’t oppose marriage. My father married a lot, and didn’t really care for the women who committed to him after he was no longer interested. I always told myself I wouldn’t make his mistakes.” He picked up the glass and dried it with a paper towel. The glass was shiny, clean, transparent—like a healthy relationship.

  She angled closer. “You’re not your father, Beck.”

  “Really? How can you tell?”

  “Because from what you said, your dad is a pig. You’re a guy who has principles,” she erased the remaining distance between them.

  “Like wanting to bang a woman thirteen years younger? Where are my principles now?” he said. It should have been a joke, but tension charged and thickened the air between them. The previous night, all he wanted was to fuck her and claim her virginity. Finally, they were alone again.

  She winked at him. “You don’t have to be flawless. A little bit of wrongdoing is okay in my book.”

  “Besides,” she whispered, her gaze colliding with his, “I have it on good authority such woman wants to be banged by you..”

  Beck groaned. “You don’t know what you’re asking,” he said, outlining her lips with his index finger. The moment he touched her, a shot of electricity charged up his arm, fast-tracking al
l his cells. Awakening his libido, and stirring it up.

  Clarissa parted her lips. “But, I want to know. Oh, I want to so bad.”

  He pulled her to him, and soon his hands slid over her delectable ass. His erection poked her, but this time he no longer cared. The previous night hadn’t worked out, but why not try again?

  She linked her arms around him, and he growled. A possessive need moved through him, giving him no choice but to lift her from the floor. She giggled as he hooked his arms under her knees and scooped her up. Soon, their lips locked again, and the kiss became more urgent, visceral, raw. His cock swelled, squeezed in the confines of his underwear and slacks.

  As he put her down on his mattress, on his bed, Beck gave himself a mental high-five. He’d worried sleeping with her would complicate things, and possibly jeopardize his partnership. Wouldn’t his situation be more difficult and vulnerable the more intimacy he shared with her?

  An invisible bubble of excitement and joy burst in his chest. He didn’t know what the future held, but looking at this gorgeous, vibrant, determined young woman who wanted to share her body with him—he knew it. Even if things got complicated, shit, it’d be all worth it. She was worth it, and he refused to fight that feeling.

  5

  Clarissa moaned.

  Beck removed her clothes, quickly, without much fuss. She loved every minute of it, the luxurious sensation of her naked body pressing the silky linens. He pulled his shirt out of his head and flung it across the room, then continued to undress himself with swift, efficient moves.

  When she faced his bare chest, she gasped. Whoa. Smooth, well defined and muscly. She could tell by his broad shoulders and large frame that Beck worked out, but his torso had so many planes and ridges, she’d need a destination map to explore.

  Her gaze trailed down, and her eyes reached her hairline at the sight of his glorious, gigantic cock. She’d seen dicks before, during a couple of heavy petting sessions with a couple of guys she’d dated, away from her aunt’s claws. None of them came close to Beck’s.