by Noelle Adams
“Does it really mean that much to her?”
“I don’t know. It means a lot, but I think it means more to Mitchell. Some sort of gesture of devotion. He’s just got it between his teeth and won’t let it go.”
“I think it’s kind of cool,” Deanna admitted.
“So you’re really okay with his,” Brie asked again.
“Yes, I’m really okay. It’s just six months. It’s not like it’s a forever thing. We can be professional about it.”
“Yeah. I guess that’s true.”
Deanna’s eyes were still on Mitchell, as she tried to process this new knowledge of him.
He seemed more real than he had before—like there was a heart and soul inside the fine body—and her attraction for him intensified even more.
He noticed her watching him and smiled. It was probably just for show, but the smile was intimate, and prompted a little shudder of pleasure inside her.
It was so strange—so crazy—to think he would be her husband.
And it was nice to know he wasn’t too bad of a guy.
He walked over to her, and he slid an arm around her as he approached, pulling her against his side.
Obviously, it was done to convince the onlookers that they were really in love, but it felt nice.
He was big and warm and strong and masculine, and it was hard not to enjoy the feel of him against her.
Everyone was smiling as they looked on.
“Oh, how the mighty have fallen,” someone said—a middle-aged man who was some sort of business associate of Mitchell’s. “After all your talk of not believing in marriage, you surrender the moment you fall in love.”
Deanna felt Mitchell stiffen slightly, which was interesting, but the smile never left his face. “I admit it. I was a goner from the very beginning.” He leaned down and pressed his lips against Deanna’s, and she felt a shiver of response.
The kiss was fake. Of course, it was. But she couldn’t help but respond to it anyway.
There was some more laughter and some more teasing, and Deanna had drunk one too many glasses of champagne. She felt a little fuzzy and overly warm when people started to leave.
“Well, that seemed to go well,” Mitchell murmured. He was still standing beside her, his arm around her once again. There were only a few people left in a conversation across the room.
“Yeah. They all seem completely taken in. Either we’re good actors, or people are pretty gullible.”
“Probably both.” He was speaking low, so his mouth was close to her ear, and she felt another spiral of pleasure and attraction rise up inside her.
If she had to marry a man for a weird fake reason, Mitchell wasn’t a bad one to end up with.
“How are you feeling about everything?” he asked.
It was nice of him to ask, and his gray eyes were serious and attentive, like he really cared. She’d been wrong about him at first. He wasn’t really as thoughtless and selfish as she’d thought.
She couldn’t get over the fact that he was doing all this for his mother.
“I’m fine. I think it’s all going to be fine. I think we’ll be able to get along just fine.”
She was saying “fine” a lot. Too much. She couldn’t look away from his deep eyes, and his face was getting closer and closer to her.
And she wanted it to. The scent of him—masculine and real somehow—filled her senses, and her heart was beating like crazy in her chest.
She wanted him to kiss her. Again. And not just for show.
“I think so too,” he murmured, his voice definitely husky.
His face drifted closer to hers until his lips brushed against her mouth, very gently. “I think we’ll get along very well,” he murmured, just before he kissed her again.
It wasn’t a deep kiss, but it lingered. Deanna’s mind roared with excitement and pleasure as her hands rose unconsciously to cling to the lapels of his jacket. Her breath hitched when he took her bottom lip, very gently, between his teeth and gave it a little tug.
The sharp desire that tightened inside her was impossible to mistake. She was trembling as she tried to press herself against him.
A laugh across the room distracted them, and Mitchell pulled away.
The remaining guests had caught them kissing and thought it was funny. Deanna found it frustrating.
The laughter reminded her it was fake, which was weird enough. But mostly she wasn’t pleased with the interruption.
Maybe sex shouldn’t be as off the table as she’d originally assumed.
***
An hour later, Mitchell was waiting for Deanna to come out of the bathroom so he could drive her home.
She said she could just go home with her grandmother, but Mitchell thought it would look better and more natural if he took her home himself.
Mitchell was surprisingly tired after the evening, but everything had gone smoothly.
Everyone was convinced. Gina Fenton was convinced. And Deanna was definitely proving to be amenable to his advances.
His phone rang as he waited, and he picked it up when he saw it was Brie.
“Hey,” he said. “What’s up?” He certainly wasn’t expecting a call when she’d just left the party.
“Just calling to tell you once more that I think this is a very bad idea.”
“I know that’s what you think.” Mitchell sighed and walked out onto a terrace, so Deanna wouldn’t overhear if she happened to come out of the bathroom before he expected her to. “But I think it’s going to work out fine.”
“Someone is going to get hurt, and I think it’s going to be Deanna.”
“You talked to her, didn’t you? I assume she didn’t tell you she was forced into this against her will.”
“No, of course not. But that doesn’t mean she won’t get hurt.”
“I’m not going to hurt her. What the hell do you think I’m going to do to her?”
“You’re going to be your normal charming self, and she’s going to fall for you, thinking it’s real.”
“She knows it’s not real. I’ve been nothing but honest with her.”
Against his will, Mitchel remembered how she’d felt against him when he kissed her. She was absolutely delectable, and she’d been warm and passionate—responding to the slightest of his touches.
He was already dying to get her into bed. He didn’t think it would take very long.
“Yeah, but knowing is different than knowing. I saw you two tonight. Please don’t hurt her. She seems really nice.”
“I’m not going to hurt her. Give me a little credit, damn it. We’ve both been honest about everything.”
“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean it won’t get complicated.”
Mitchell stared out at the lush gardens that his staff carefully tended. The lighter blooms of flowers glowed in the moonlight. “It’s not going to get complicated.”
“That’s what you say now, but people are complicated, and I don’t think she’s as much of a pushover as you think.”
“I don’t think Deanna is a pushover. But I don’t think she’ll be difficult. She’s smart enough, but she’s…she doesn’t have a lot of backbone.”
He thought about her at the negotiations—her stiff shoulders and gracefully held neck—but she was only that way because she had Harrison Damon at her side.
She wouldn’t have a champion in their marriage. She wasn’t going to cause him any trouble.
“That’s not very nice, Mitchell.”
“I know, but it’s true. She does what she’s told. She’ll be easy to manage.”
A slight sound behind him had him whirling around, and he felt a cold, stark chill when he saw Deanna at the door to the terrace.
But he relaxed when he saw she was just opening it. She was smiling at him and looked perfectly composed.
She hadn’t overheard.
That was good. Mitchell might not be particularly sensitive, but he didn’t actually want to hurt her feelings.
He wa
sn’t the nicest guy in the world, but he didn’t like to think of himself as heartless.
Four
Deanna and Mitchell got married at four o’clock in the afternoon on the following Saturday. He wore a charcoal gray suit, and she wore a pretty, simple, cream-colored dress that fell to mid-calf, since she would have felt stupid in a real wedding gown for a mostly fake wedding at the courthouse.
She carried a small bouquet of pink tulips and spent most of the short ceremony telling herself not to claw the obnoxious smile off his handsome face.
She hadn’t seen him much for the past week, since they were both busy—him with work and her with preparations for moving into his house and finishing up at her job. She’d been brooding on the conversation she’d overheard at the party all week, though.
He thought she was weak. Spineless. Easy to manage.
And what made it worse was his charming act at the party had started to work on her, proving that he was partly right.
He wasn’t completely right, though. She did hate to say no to the people she cared about, and she’d done a lot out of loyalty to her grandmother. But she wasn’t as malleable as he seemed to think she was, and he’d find out how wrong he was soon enough.
It didn’t help that she found him just as attractive today as she had last week. Even the knowledge of what he really thought of her didn’t change how appealing, how compelling she found his handsome face, his strong, masculine body, the charisma that always lurked under the surface of his persona¸ even when he wasn’t letting it out.
She wasn’t going to be fooled by the attraction again, though.
She kept a smile on her face as they repeated simple vows, and Mitchell slid a sleek, modern wedding band on her hand. It felt weird as he did so. His eyes never left her face, and he held her small hand like it was crystal—but obviously it didn’t mean anything.
He was good with women. He obviously always had been. He assumed he could be good with her too and get her to do anything he wanted. Deanna had always been proud—taught to be so by her grandmother and forced to be so by a family that others found to be a source of amusement. She was certainly too proud to let Mitchell Graves be proven right about her.
She pulled her hand away from his as soon as she could, since the feel of his warm fingers against her skin was disturbing.
She felt his eyes on her face, but she held onto her smile. Then they paused for a few pictures as evidence of their matrimonial reality.
They hadn’t invited anyone else to the wedding. The story would be they decided not to wait and just got married quietly without a big fuss. Deanna was glad. Marrying Mitchell would feel more like a lie if her family and friends had been present.
“Is everything all right?” he asked quietly, leaning down to murmur into her ear as they walked out into the lobby.
She carefully pulled back from him so his lips weren’t quite so close to her face. “Yes, of course.” She smiled at him, desperately trying to look relaxed and casual, even though a chill of anxiety was shivering up and down her spine. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
“I don’t know. You just seem…stiff or upset or something.” He was still studying her face, looking for evidence of what he sensed in her mood.
She understood what he was picking up from her—she must have been sending out vibes that she didn’t like him, she didn’t want to be close to him. It was true, but there was no sense in bursting out with it, since they were stuck in this marriage now.
She was his bride now—bought and paid for so the Beauforts could rebuild their ancestral home.
She had to do a better job of fooling him. They’d be seeing each other a lot now. This afternoon, she’d be moving into his house. She’d have her own suite of rooms. That was already arranged. But they’d be living together and going about as man and wife—obviously, they’d run into each other a lot.
She willed herself to act natural as she smiled again. “I’m not upset. Honestly, I’m a little…a little nervous about this whole thing. It’s strange, you know.”
His smile widened again, nearly taking her breath away since it appeared genuine. “I know. It’s very strange. But I think it will be fine. Nothing to be nervous about. Do you want to go get something to eat or just head home?”
Home. His home, not hers, although she’d be living there for the next six months. She wouldn’t even have much of her own stuff there. She’d already moved over the few possessions she was taking with her. All of her clothes would be new—to suit the wardrobe of a wife of Mitchell Graves.
She wished now she’d brought all of her beads. At least that would have given her something to do—something that brought her joy. She’d left them because they hadn’t seemed to fit with her life as Mitchell’s wife, but now she realized that was ridiculous. She was still herself, even married to him.
She suddenly decided there was no reason not to get them. “Do you mind if we stop back at my house first?” she asked. “I need to pick something up. I can go myself, if you’d rather.” She didn’t own a car. She’d never been able to afford one. She could take a taxi if she needed one, but she figured he might still be playing his charming role and would insist on taking her himself.
He wanted her compliant. It was too early for him to start distancing himself. He didn’t have her wrapped around his finger completely yet.
His eyes widened. “Sure. Of course. I thought you already brought things over, though.”
“I did. I was going to leave some stuff behind, but I just changed my mind. It’s fine if you’d—“
“I can take you,” he interrupted, frowning as if he didn’t appreciate the assumption he wasn’t considerate enough to take her. “It’s not that far out of the way. As long as I don’t have to go into the room with those dead cats.”
The Beauforts lived in one of the historic neighborhoods at the heart of the city. Most of the houses were gorgeously restored, and all of them were old and stately and streets lined with oaks and Spanish moss.
Mitchell lived in a gated community in the south of the city, with new houses, large pieces of property, and plenty of privacy.
The Beaufort home wasn’t anywhere close to Mitchell’s, and it was definitely out of the way, but Deanna didn’t bother argue. He was trying to be nice so she’d fall for him even more.
When they arrived, Deanna saw a flutter of curtains in the parlour, so she knew her someone had seen them drive up.
Kelly opened the door before Deanna could turn the knob. “Are you married?” she demanded.”
Deanna shook her head and raised her hand so her sister could see the simple platinum band next to the engagement ring with the diamond solitaire Mitchell had presented her with last week. She would have preferred a ring with more history and character than the sleek modern lines, but Mitchell had bought the rings, and he’d obviously chosen what he liked. “The deed is done.”
“How strange does it feel?” Kelly asked.
Deanna chuckled. “Pretty strange.” She glanced up at Mitchell, catching him watching her closely again.
She wondered what was going on in his mind. Did he recognize that she wasn’t as compliant as she’d been last week? Was he starting to plot to make sure he got her back under his thumb, easy to manage once more?
A sudden brainstorm hit her—the kind of spark of naughty genius that almost never tempted her. But she couldn’t resist, remembering how condescendingly he’d spoken of her on the phone call.
She gave him a warmer smile. “But I think it’s going to be okay.”
His face visibly relaxed. “I think so too.”
“Grandmama isn’t here,” Kelly informed them, giving them both curious looks. “She’s having tea with Mrs. Endicott. She’ll be very upset about missing you.”
Mitchell’s face relaxed even more, and Deanna knew he wasn’t at all upset about missing her grandmother.
“We’re not here to visit,” Deanna told her sister. “I just decided I wanted my beads aft
er all.”
“Oh, okay.” Kelly followed them as they walked up the staircase. “That’s probably a good idea. You’ll be kind of bored, won’t you, sitting around in a fancy house with nothing to do.”
“My house isn’t that fancy,” Mitchell said, glancing over his shoulder in a friendly way. “And she’s welcome to do anything she likes with her time.”
Deanna could think of a few things she might do that he would have objections to, but she didn’t mention them. “That’s really nice of you,” she murmured instead, lowering her eyelids in what she hoped was a shy look.
Mitchell was definitely looking less concerned now, and Kelly was looking very confused.
Fortunately, her sister didn’t say anything.
When they reached Kelly’s bedroom, Mitchell paused in the doorway at the sight of all the tins of beads and spools of wire that were scattered over the floor. “Wow,” he breathed. “What are all these for?”
“I like to make jewelry and little purses and stuff with beads.” She opened her closet and found a little beaded coin purse she’d made two years ago. “Like this, see?”
He took the purse in both his hands, staring down at it. Deanna had been proud of that one, since it had taken forever to get the roses to look right on it, and she couldn’t help but be pleased when his expression showed that he was impressed. “You made this?”
“Yeah.” She tried to look bashful and simpering, as he would expect her to. “It’s just a little hobby I have.”
It wasn’t a little hobby. She loved working with beads, and she sometimes dreamed of making a living at it.
“This is really good. You make jewelry too? Have you tried to do anything with your stuff?”
“Yeah. I sell it online and a few local shops will stock some of my better items. So far, it’s only brought in pocket money, though.”
“Well, it’s a start.” He was looking down at the beaded coin purse, and his expression now was thoughtful. “We can put a shelf of some of your stuff in the Claremont shop, if you want. This is good enough to place there, and people at hotels buy all kinds of useless stuff they wouldn’t otherwise.” His head jerked up. “Not that it’s useless. I didn’t mean that. I just mean it’s pretty stuff, not practical stuff.”
