by Kylie Hudson
“Yes, I do. And now we live in Hollywood Hills, not just me. It’s your home too, Siena.”
She blinks several times before speaking, as if measuring her words. “So that means you see movie stars all the time?”
“I have been known to spot a few.” I stroke the stubble on my cheek which formed a few days ago and make a mental note to shave when I get home. Yes, you guessed it; of course I want to look my best around this surreally striking creature sitting next to me.
Although clamming up for awhile, her eyes continue to dart around, until finally we pull up to the large gate that shields my home from the prying eyes in Hollywood Hills. My ever-present security detail opens the automatic gate and we drive inside, making our way up the snaking driveway before parking in front of the main house. There is another section on property that houses the staff and security detail. Not that I am around much, as I spend most of my time on the road, but they are always available at my beck and call, just the way I like it.
Siena stares at me as I shut down the car. Her eyes are an open book that you can read when she has something on her mind. “What?” I ask, half-amused.
“Why would you live alone in such a big house?” she muses.
I leap from the car, circle around and open her door. “I am hardly ever here, plus I like to entertain. If I really must tell, it’s all a matter of status.”
She exits the car and bounds up the steps, waving her hands around excitedly. “What a fabulous house? Oh my goodness, open up Ryker, I want to see the inside.”
Caught up in her enthusiasm for a piece of real estate that I take for granted, I swiftly open the door and Siena rushes ahead, not even waiting for me to usher her in. I had had the housekeeping staff prepare a meal and take the rest of the afternoon off. Since Siena was just coming from Jamaica, I thought she would want a little privacy on her first day rather than be tripping all over the hired help.
Before I can give her the grand tour however, Siena catches sight of the patio, the infinity pool and the breathtaking view of the valley below. “This is so beautiful, Ryker. Imagine waking up to this view every day.” Then, suddenly her face relaxes as she takes a deep breath and catches herself, realizing that she has allowed herself to be caught up in the moment.
“That’s okay,” I cajole. “Enjoy it all. As the stepdaughter of Aiden and possibly my future bride, even if that’s for just a short time, this is your home.”
The mention of her late stepfather causes a shadow to descend over her previously radiant face. Siena takes a seat on one of the patio chairs, her eyes staring blankly ahead.
I fucking hate myself for souring her mood and I have to remedy the situation. I pour myself a Single Malt from the outside bar. “Are you even old enough for me to offer you a drink?” I tease, knowing fully well that she is now twenty-one, and therefore expecting a sharp response from my fake fiancée.
Siena’s sexy lips push forward into a full-blown bitch pout. “I’ll have you know that I am an adult, or as we say in Jamaica, a big woman.” Then she giggles. “Not only physically, which I know I am, but chronologically. I am twenty-one you know and I can legally do anything I want.” Her eyelashes flutter and she gives me a stern look. Listen, if looks could kill I would be a dead man.
“Okay…okay.” I put up my hands in the air in mock surrender. This Jamaica girl is a trip, a rather sprightly little filly and I find myself warming to her company. “I was just kidding. I know your age and what you like to drink.” I pour her a glass of pink moscato, her favorite wine, which she gladly accepts. “Well, here’s to my fiancée.” I smile, clinking her glass in a toast.
Siena’s pouty lips curl upward in a half-smile and the whole fucking world seems to light up. What the hell am I going to do? How can I spend the next three months around this sexy ass creature and keep my hands off her? She is Aiden’s stepdaughter for God’s sake and this is a business arrangement, not a love match. But the way her firm tits push against the fabric of her tight blouse and the outline of her taut nipples sends a quiver through my genitals.
My cock is hard as a rock and threatening to expose the desires that are churning through my core.
Taking a sip of her wine, Siena marvels at the scenery below. “It’s lovely, isn’t it? I thought Jamaica to be the most beautiful place in the world, but this is coming in a close second.”
“A close second? I’ll have you know the Hollywood Hills beats your piece of rock in the ocean every time,” I say, shaking my head and wagging a finger at her.
Making a goofy face, she stares me down. “Please, dude. Have you ever been to Jamaica?”
“No.” I scratch my head.
“Then you better shut up before you embarrass yourself.” She reaches over and pats me on the shoulder in mock forgiveness. “The scenery in Jamaica is the closest you will ever get to heaven on earth.”
“You win, Miss Jamaica Tourist Board.” I try to evade her patronizing hand. “But when I am home I like to sit out here and just admire the beauty. It’s my chill time away from the madding crowd of LA or New York.”
Her eyes are alight like fireflies and she reminds me of a kid in a candy story. But as much as I loathe myself, my eyes still sneak glimpses of her as she swivels in the chair, her ass sticking out as if seeking attention and her camel toe clearly outlined. Were Siena any other woman but my friend’s stepdaughter I would be looking to rip off those panties, and plan my lips squarely on what appears to be a rather succulent pair of pussy lips right now.
Down, boy down. Now is not the time to get all uppity and stiff, I beg my cock. There will be time enough to see what mettle this Jamaican flower is made of.
CHAPTER 4
Siena
This must all be a dream.
A few hours ago I was chilling at my small home in Jamaica, an island nation of three million people, and now I have just flown by private jet into Los Angeles, the place of the stars; drove in a Ferrari and walked into the biggest and most luxurious house I have ever seen.
Man, the place is huge, with more bedrooms and bathroom than I can count; a large outdoor swimming pool plus infinity pool overlooking the gorgeous valley.
I pinch myself.
Why had my stepdad not prepared me for this life, I have no idea. In my mind I was expecting a comfortable existence with some unattractive, middle-aged guy, and now I am thrown off a cliff and into the arms of a big, strapping hunk of a man, who is just a few years older than me and the owner of a house that must cost a zillion dollars.
“I gave the household staff the afternoon off so that you could have the house to yourself,” Ryker’s deep baritone snaps me back to reality. “I figured you would want to unwind and talk since you must have a million questions, as do I.”
My eyes detach themselves from the view of the valley, which I can’t seem to get enough of. It’s just stunning looking out over the infinity pool onto the mansions and city below. “Thank you, Ryker,” I respond. “That was very thoughtful of you. I mean, my stepdad didn’t tell me anything about you. He did not even let me know your name for fear I would stalk you on social media.”
Ryker laughs that big, booming crackle of his, his green eyes turning a shade lighter. On top of his perfect physique the man is blessed with eyes that are, how should I say it…bedroom eyes. They are the kind of eyes that appear to be undressing you even when the owner is not. “For real?” he exclaims, pulling his chair closer to mine, and suddenly it feels a bit hotter on the patio. “So what were your expectations of the man you would be marrying?”
I look down, averting his glare, my mind searching for the right words. “I though you would be a balding, pot-bellied, middle-aged man, who was looking for some trophy wife, or just a dog doing a dutiful favor for Aiden.”
He proceeds to sip on his scotch, taking time to savor the flavor. Yuck, I can never understand what men get from drinking that liquor, it tastes so awful. “And I thought you would be some spoilt rotten kid,” he pronounces, s
macking his lips in appreciation of what must be a very expensive drink of scotch.
It is obvious that this man is teasing me, but I have no idea what his real motives are. “So here we are, finally face-to-face, so there is no longer any need for assumptions. Now that you have met me, what do you think about me, Mr. Dean?”
His left hand rubs lazily against his jaw which sports a few prickly strands of hair, and he pauses for a moment as if deep in thought. “Well, for one, since you are my fiancée, you can call me Ryker and secondly, you are not half as bad as I expected.”
I freaking pout up a storm. Not too bad? Who does this guy think he is? Most men would do anything to be with me, and everyone says I am hot. Don’t get me wrong, I am not one of those girls who are filled with self-importance because they think they are pretty, but I know how attractive I look, with my big tits and ass, and I would not have it any other way. “I guess you are not as bad as I expected either, save for the fact that you are very cocky.”
“Not cocky, Siena, just a very confident man.”
Making a face, I lean closer, much to my poor little heart’s peril. “So I gather from the private plane and this house that you are rich?”
“A billionaire, if I may be honest.” Ryker again chuckles. “I dabble in internet marketing and I produce movies, to name a few of the irons I have in the fire.” Again he downs a glass of his scotch as if he is merely drinking water.
If I am honest with myself, Ryker’s mere presence skitters my pulse and puts me off my game. The man is so conceitedly sure of himself that it comes across as arrogance, and those bulging and rippling muscles do not make it any easier to concentrate when he is as close to me as he is now. He must spend half of his time working out in the gym, plus his eyes always seem as if they are undressing me, and cause fluttering in my tummy which I find a bit unusual and disconcerting. “How do you know my dad and why are you so in his debt that would marry his stepdaughter?” There, I had to ask.
There is a faraway look in Ryker’s eyes as if he is delving into a past that he has chosen not to remember. “When I was young,” he sighs. “I beat up my dad who was always assaulting me. I was a wild and angry young man who ran with a violent crowd. Your stepdad was one of the leaders of the crew and he would look out for me. One time I was staring down the barrel of a gun, a second from having my head blown off, and Aiden rescued me.”
Again Ryker takes a drink of his precious Single Malt. “Another time I was ambushed by a gang and being beaten to a pulp when he saved my life. That happened a few more times, and so you can understand why I would do anything he asked.”
Now I am beginning to understand their relationship and why he had agreed to be engaged to me and take me to the United States. “With Aiden now deceased it is my duty to make sure you never want for anything in life, and that you are protected from any of his enemies who may wish to harm you in retaliation for his crimes.”
He may be my fake fiancée, but his loyalty has moved him up a notch in my books, and as much as I dislike his cockiness, I have to respect the man. “So what’s next?” I ask, my facial expressions failing to mask my concern.
Ryker pulls his chair even closer to me. His cologne is overpowering… one of those expensive scents that makes its way into a woman’s underwear. I feel a trickle of wetness dampening my G-string panties and I squeeze my trembling thighs to combat the sensation. His closeness is causing an unfamiliar tingling in my most private places. “I am trying to get you your Green Card without you having to wed someone you just met, but legally we have ninety days to get married, something I promise your stepfather I would do. Then once you receive your Green Card you are free to go wherever you choose and I will make sure you are taken care of financially for the rest of your life, of course.”
The nerve of this guy.
What a self-serving bastard. I don’t mind him trying to make good a promise to my dad, but he makes it sound as if I have no say in the matter and that I am simply a charity case. “I do not need your pity or your money, Ryker.” I brush my hair, which has gotten somewhat unruly, back behind my shoulders. “I appreciate that you are doing my stepdad a favor, but I am not a charity case.” There is no way I want him thinking that because he has boatloads of money, I am in awe of him. “And I’ll have you know I didn’t actually go to college, but I did brilliantly in high school, and I will be more than capable of taking care of myself here in America.”
Ryker rises to his feet and paces the floor anxiously until I fear he will wear out the tiles. “I made a promise to a dying man and I plan to keep it, Siena, and you had better get used to that.” He walks over and takes my hand. “I’ll show you to your room where you can relax, have a shower and get changed for dinner.”
Dinner! What is the man thinking? I just got here and haven’t even unpacked. “I have no fancy clothes for dinner, Ryker, and my hair is a mess?” I make a fuss.
He only laughs at my discomfort. “Then we will eat in tonight and tomorrow I am going to take you shopping and show you a bit of Los Angeles. If we are going to be a real engaged couple, we are going to have to start acting the part.”
My eyes turn big and round like saucers. “Ryker Dean, I am not going to kiss you in public nor sleep in the same bed with you, if that is what you are suggesting.” There, I hope I made my point quite clear.
“Now, whose mind is in the gutter? I was never suggesting such a thing.” He winks and pulls me to my feet, the force of which causes me to bump into his chest, which feels as if it is made of cast iron. My heart sprints a hundred meters dash as he holds me in his arm for a few moments. Shit, an achy, swoony feeling invades my core. I push him away playfully and head for the bedroom, desperate to get away from this man who has totally discombobulated my head space.
I sigh. This is going to be a very trying ninety days.
Ryker laughs and bounds up the stairs. “Come on, lazy bones,” he teases. “Or are you waiting on a welcome home kiss.”
I giggle at his audacity and fake a punch. “You wish,” I chortle, as he opens a door and ushers me inside with a wave of his hand. On entering, my heart almost stops. The room is one word – stunning. It looks like what you would expect for a princess in a castle, only more modern and trendy. It is obvious he has redecorated it with me in mind. A king-size, four-posted bed is braced against the wall of what is a rose pink-colored room, surrounded by massive floor to ceiling windows and a closet that’s about twice as large as my room back home in Jamaica. “Shit, this is paradise,” I blurt out, before catching myself.
“It is yours, unless you want to share my room.” Ryker’s eyes are sparkling mischievously.
Punching him on the shoulder, I twirl around the bedroom, feeling like a real-live princess. “No thank you, this will do just fine.”
Ryker hangs around a few more minutes, watching me salivate at my new accommodations. “Dinner is downstairs in two hours. The kitchen staff, my dear, knowing you are coming from Jamaica, have prepared jerk chicken and escovetich fish. It may not be as spicy as you are accustomed to, but I am sure you will find it tasty.”
As soon as Ryker shuts the door behind him I let out a scream and jump onto the large bed, rolling around like someone who just won the lottery. The place is a freaking palace. At least I will spend my ninety days in splendor, and although Ryker is obviously a cocky bastard, thank God he is not boring and I won’t have to grit my teeth every time I look at him.
So I relax for a few more minutes, then unpack my meager belongings and wander over to the bathroom. On opening the door, my chin falls to the floor. Inside resembles a day spa. There is a massive shower with about six shower heads and a Jacuzzi tub with mirrored view of the valley below. This is not a bathroom, this is paradise.
I have died and gone to heaven and wanting to explore my good fortune before I surely wake up and see that this is all a dream, I take a leisurely bath, then shower, before putting on a dress which sticks too tight to my big ass. But what’s a gi
rl to do when every piece of clothing she owns is either short or tight-fitting? Listen, I am only young once and if I have a great body, why not flaunt it?
With my hair cascading down my shoulders and make-up applied to perfection, I confidently step down the large staircase and waltz into the living room where Ryker has already changed and turns to me with a glass of champagne in hand. I notice his eyes become rather wild as he looks at me; no make that surveying me from head to toe. “A drink for the lady,” he says gallantly, a smug smile on his face. His eyes are sitting squarely on my chest where the cut low shows off more cleavage than I should. But that’s the way I dress and my fiancée has just got to get used to it.
“Thank you,” I retort, taking a sip of the bubbly which tickles my nose, causing me to fight back a choke.
“Come follow me into the dining room.” He leads me into another large room where a table with fourteen chairs dominates its center. Ryker larks as if reading my mind. “No, we are not hosting a dinner party tonight, although you will have to get used to hosting events. Tonight is just the two of us.”
Relieved, I take a seat at the chair which he pulls out for me. The table is filled with an enormous amount of food. “Ryker, we can’t possibly eat so much,” I start to protest.
“Have whatever you like,” he muses. “I just wanted to give you some choices.”
Smiling, I take out a piece of chicken and one of the huge Jamaica fish called snapper f. The tantalizing aroma of the food makes me realize how hungry I am and I proceed to wolf down my meal. “This is delicious, my compliments to the chef.” I am not passing out idle compliments, it does taste amazing for good having been prepared by non-Jamaicans.
He nods, takes a bite of his chicken, eyes darkening as he stares at me when he thinks I am not watching. “I like a girl with a big appetite,” he says. “I can’t stand when you have dinner with a woman and she barely touches her food.”
