“You really are drunk.” He sounded amused, or maybe surprised.
“Mmmm.” Was it this one? She held the screen up close to her face and squinted at the icon.
“Damn. I know Darius makes a mean cocktail but this is the first time I’ve seen a woman falling on her butt after consuming a couple of his drinks.” He held out a hand to assist her to her feet and he left his hand on her arm for several seconds to steady her. “The fresh air has probably made it worse.”
“Here.” She triumphantly waved her phone after opening the app. “Won’t be long and I’ll be in your way.”
“What?”
“On your way. I’ll be on your way. I mean, you’ll be on my way.” Why was it so hard to get her words to line up?
"Arial, please let me take you home. I want to make sure that you get there safely. I don’t want to put you in a car with a stranger when you’re like this." He held his hands up in front of him as if he was surrendering. "I won't touch you if that's what you're worried about."
She gazed at him, trying to see him properly through her fogginess. He did seem genuine and she did have to watch her money now that she had no job. If she let him drop her home, she could save on the cost of an Uber. He'd probably go ahead and order an Uber himself while pretending it was one of the DuMonde 'drivers'. She'd met men like him before, men who told big fat lies and faked their identity to score points with women. All the same, it would be nice to spend another ten minutes in his company...
"Ok," she said at last. "You can take me home but I'm not inviting you in so don’t even ask."
Chapter Ten
Carson
They were almost at her apartment, if the way the driver had slowed his speed and was now checking his GPS was any indication that they were getting close. She lived a long way from the city, further away than he thought she might. She'd sat primly beside him ever since they left the Casino, with her knees held tightly together and her handbag on her lap. He’d tried talking to her but her mood had shifted. She’d settled into a thoughtful, pensive frame of mind and it was hard to tell what she was thinking. She had sobered up a little too, but she had gulped down almost an entire bottle of water from the collection the driver kept in the holders on the back of the seats.
"Are we nearly at your house?"
She granted him a quick glance. "Near enough and it's an apartment, not a house."
He struggled to prevent his lips from twitching into a grin. "Of course. Have you changed your mind about inviting me in?"
She pulled her brows down into a frown but she didn't turn to face him and instead stared out the side window. "No. I rarely change my mind."
He had to make a move now otherwise everything would be lost. She was more stubborn and determined than he'd first thought but he had always enjoyed a challenge. He casually stretched out his arm and laid it across the seat behind her. “I could do with a coffee before I head back to the Casino.”
She shifted, moving her body a few more inches away from his. “Starbucks is open until late.”
She was a riot! Didn't she realize how funny and intriguing she was? He allowed a coaxing, wheedling tone to enter his voice. "Not even with a shovel load of encouragements on the side and, a cherry on top to make everything pretty and sweet?"
"Not even with a shovel load." Obviously ignoring him now, she leaned forward to speak to the driver between the gap in the seats. "Just pull over anywhere here. It can sometimes be hard to find a park right outside my building."
"Wait." He hovered his hand over her arm, not daring to touch her for fear she might whack him with her handbag or kick him in the shins. "Is that it?"
"What do you mean, is that it?" She fumbled for the door handle as the driver pulled in against the curb. "We had fun and now I'm going home to make a grilled cheese sandwich and watch a stupid romance movie until I fall asleep."
He clamped his lips firmly shut on the chuckle that threatened to bubble up and escape. "I've always enjoyed stupid romance movies. They're my favorite."
She stared at him and he could see she was trying to work out if he was being serious or not. “Hmmm. Actually, I might have to forgo the movie. I have some chores to do.” She hadn’t opened the door yet and that had to be a good sign.
“You could probably give yourself a night off. Everyone deserves a night off every now and again.”
She finally looked at him and he made the most of the brief twinkle he could see in her eyes. "I had fun today, Carson. Thanks for a great afternoon but I'm not the sort of person to invite a guy in to spend the night. It just isn't what I do."
He raised an eyebrow, hoping to drag her into his game with a light dose of his careless, teasing charm. "Not ever?"
She shook her head firmly. "Not ever. I never have and I never will." She leaned forward again to smile at the driver. "Thank you for bringing me home. Enjoy the rest of your evening."
I never have and I never will?! Did that mean what he thought it meant? Carson bounced out of the car and hurried around to her side before she had a chance to step one foot on the pavement. "Arial, I think we should talk."
"We've spent the entire afternoon talking but as I said, I have other things that I need to get on with now." She searched in her handbag as she walked toward a bland-looking concrete block apartment building, talking to herself now. "I need a smaller handbag. I can never find my keys."
"You don't understand..." He took a deep breath, willing her to look at him. How had a beautiful girl with her virtue still intact walked into his life right when he needed her the most? "I have a dilemma."
She snorted but the noise sounded charming rather than rude coming from her. "Don't we all? My dilemma is that I have no job and I have to be out of my apartment by the end of the week. I’m supposed to be packing tonight. Can your dilemma beat mine? Somehow I don’t think so."
This was even better, better than he could have hoped for. He bulldozed onward, fully aware that he had nothing to lose. "I have to be married by the end of the month.”
She finally turned her full attention on him. “Huh? No one has to be married. Why are you telling me this?”
They’d reached the entrance door now, with its panes of smeary glass and a rusted handle. Once she stepped through that door, his chance would be lost.
“It’s a long story but I’ll keep it short and sweet for now. If I want to stay in my father’s good books, I have to be married by the 30th.” He hesitated for only an instant before delivering the punchline. “To a virgin."
Her face flooded with color. She looked past him to stare at the vehicles passing by on the street instead of meeting his eyes. "Why would you tell me something like that?" she asked quietly, her eyes fixed on a slow moving bus.
"Because I think we can come to an arrangement. Arial, you have to listen to me. Can I come up to your apartment to talk it through?" He tried out his best pleading look, the one that had been successful on a multitude of occasions in the past. "At the very least, I can help you pack. I could even make you that cheese sandwich you’ve been craving."
Chapter Eleven
Arial
They were standing outside her apartment building but there was no way she was inviting him up, despite how cute he looked when he made those wide pleading eyes at her. Her head had cleared and her vision was no longer fuzzy around the edges. The water had helped, and the long drive home. She generally caught two buses to work each day but now that she no longer had a job, she wouldn’t have to travel that distance. However, she now wondered if she was as sober as she thought she was. Had Carson just told her that he needed to be married to a virgin by the end of the month?
“I’m sorry, what?”
“I said I could help you pack and make you a grilled cheese sandwich. I don’t want to sound like I’m bragging, but I do make a great cheese sandwich. The trick is in the cheese. Most people don’t realize that you need to use three different cheeses to make the best…”
“No! I
’m not talking about a cheese sandwich! What did you say before that? About staying in your father’s good books by marrying a virgin. This isn’t the middle ages, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
“Yeah, I know but Dad can be old-fashioned sometimes. Can we talk about this in your apartment?”
“No, we can’t talk about this in my apartment. Tell me now.” She crossed her arms and scowled at him. She was beginning to get the uneasy feeling that he’d been toying with her for the past few hours. First, there was that silly lie about him being a member of the DuMonde family and now he was trying to play her along with this far-fetched tale. She supposed she should feel flattered that he was going to so much trouble in an attempt to get an invite inside but she wasn’t born yesterday. He needed to come up with stories that were more realistic than this if he expected this ploy to win him some conquests. Not that she was planning to be one of his conquests, of course.
He held her gaze and she got the distinct impression that he wasn’t used to hearing the word no. “All right,” he said at last. “You win.” He indicated the low fence at the side of the building, a messy arrangement of concrete blocks covered in sprawling, illegible graffiti. “Do you want to sit down for a few minutes so I can explain?”
She gnawed at her lip. She really should be upstairs in her apartment by now, starting on the big task that lay ahead of her.
He placed his hand on the small of her back and steered her over to the low wall while she was still trying to make up her mind. “It’ll only take a few minutes. I promise.”
She reluctantly sat down and wrapped her arms around the handbag she held in front of her, hiding behind its inadequate width. He stood solemnly in front of her, with his feet apart and his hands behind his back, as if he was about to deliver a speech to a crowd of delegates. She folded her lips over her giggle and waited patiently.
“My father is Terence DuMonde. I wasn’t lying when I said that I was Carson DuMonde of the DuMonde family. I have no reason to lie to you about that.”
“Can you prove it?”
He looked offended. “You can’t take my word on it?”
“Nope.”
He sighed and fished in his trouser pocket for his wallet. He pulled out his driver’s license and handed it to her. She stared incredulously at his unsmiling photograph. Either he was telling the truth or this was a very good counterfeit copy. Everyone knew of Terence DuMonde and his playboy son and now that she thought about it, Carson did look a lot like the pictures of the man she’d seen on the internet and in magazines. Her hand shook as she passed the license back. “Go on.”
“My father is concerned about the future of the family fortunes. He’s not getting any younger and he wants to be sure that the business will be in safe and sensible hands before he starts considering his retirement. In his opinion, taking a bride will be proof of my maturity although I have no idea where he gets that idea from.”
“So why has he only given you a month to get married?”
“Dad loves his ultimatums.”
“And why does the bride have to be virgin?” Her voice hiccupped across the last word.
He scratched his head and pretended an interest in a scribble of graffiti on the side of the building. “My father thinks my choices in women to date have been dubious to say the least. He believes I should choose someone entirely different from my previous choices, someone unblemished by life who I can bring into the family and give the DuMonde name. My mother supports his wishes. She told me that she thinks a young, virginal bride will be a good fit and will be more malleable than a more experienced woman.”
“More malleable?!” All of this was astounding but now he was telling her that his own mother wanted him to marry a woman so she could use her like a lump of silly putty! She abruptly stood up and went to brush past him on her way to the door. “Good luck with meeting your father’s ultimatum.”
“Wait, wait.” He stepped in front of her to prevent her from leaving. “I probably chose the wrong word. Arial, you have to believe me. This could work out well for both of us. You’ve already told me that you’ve lost your job and you need to be out of your apartment.”
“Yeah but it’s not like I’m in a position where I have no other choice but to get married to some dude who I’ve only just met.” Oh really, Arial? That’s big talk for a girl who doesn’t have a whole lot else in the way of choices.
“We could put some guidelines in place. A few rules and regulations to make you feel safe and secure.”
She cocked her head to one side and studied him. “Why do I get the strong feeling that this is the first time in your life that you’ve ever suggested sticking to rules?”
His face broke into a grin. “See, I’m not such a stranger. You already know something about me.”
She heaved a sigh. She should at least give him the chance to explain the conditions of his bizarre offer. Besides, she was getting hungry. “You’d better come in so we can talk it through properly.”
Chapter Twelve
Carson
He’d thought about angels looking down on him earlier, sending a pinch of divine luck his way, but that was supposed to be a joke. At that stage, his only goal had been to get into Arial’s pants. Sure, that was still on the agenda but maybe he could wait until after the 30th… the girl was a virgin! This gorgeous, sexy young woman was exactly the type of person Terence had ordered him to find and unbelievably, here he was waiting for the elevator with her so they could travel up to her apartment.
“It’s probably not up to the standard that you’re used to, I’m afraid.” Arial stepped out of the elevator and led the way across to a door that she unlocked with the key she’d found earlier. “I live simply.”
“Hey, I’m not here to judge.” He followed her into a tiny apartment that was scarcely large enough to swing a mouse by the tail, let alone a cat. “This is nice.”
“Don’t lie. It is what it is and it’s all I can afford.” She corrected herself. “Could afford.”
She tossed her handbag down on the lone sofa and walked over to pull the curtains across on the gathering darkness while Carson went to look at the bookcase, the only other item of furniture in the living room. There were a few romance books and a couple of biographies, along with a book about thinking positively and overcoming grief. However, pride of place on the shelf went to a photo of a middle-aged couple grinning happily at the camera. Alongside that photo was a smaller frame encompassing an image of a young man wearing hiking gear and squinting into the sun. This frame had a tiny, jeweled heart on the corner. He indicated the photographs with a wave of his hand. “Your Mom and Dad?”
“Yes,” she said shortly, without offering any further information.
“And the guy?”
“Steve.”
Right, Steve. So who was Steve? An old boyfriend? Had he died during a hiking expedition? That could explain the book on grief. He’d always been good at putting two and two together. Stay one step ahead, that was his motto and it had served him well up until now.
She was in the shoe box-sized kitchen now, banging around in the cupboards and running water in the sink. “I need a coffee. I only have instant but you’re more than welcome to join me.”
“Sure. I love instant.”
That brought the ghost of a smile to her face. “If I’m going to be your wife you’ll need to tone down your appalling habit of telling lies. I’ve lost count of how many you’ve told me and I’ve only known you for four hours.”
He was across the room in two strides. “So is that a yes?” he asked eagerly.
“No, it was an ‘if’.” She finished making the coffee and pushed his cup across the counter. “Give me your guidelines and then I’ll give you mine.”
He felt a sudden burst of admiration for the girl. She was certainly no pushover. Getting her into his bed might prove to be well worth the wait. “We’ll sign a contract, of course. My father told me that I needed to be married by the end of the month bu
t he didn’t stipulate how long the marriage must last. His only stipulation was that the girl must be innocent.”
She pursed her lips. “I’m not sure that I like the idea of your father equating a woman’s virginal status with innocence. I’m not as innocent as I look.”
He very much doubted that but he chose to keep his mouth shut. He smoothly moved on. “After the wedding, you’ll move into the family’s mansion on the outskirts of the city. We also have a mansion in the hills but currently there are only a few servants living there. We generally only use it during the winter months. It’s close to the ski resorts and it’s a fun place to chill out.”
Her eyes were huge behind the rim of her coffee cup as his words sank in. She nodded but she didn’t say anything.
“Mom will expect you to get involved in some of her charities. We often throw dinner parties and other events, and of course you’ll be by my side on each of those occasions.” He glanced at her plain clothing and quickly looked away again. “Your contract will include a monthly stipend along with an initial down payment once you’ve signed the contract. You’ll need the money to buy clothes worthy of a DuMonde and to pay for your hair stylist, manicurist, masseuse, dietician, nutritionist, social media guru – all that kind of stuff.”
She didn’t seem impressed by his mention of money or the luxurious services she would soon take for granted. “Marriage is important to me.”
“Yeah, it’s important to me too.” How many babes had he thrown this line to over the course of his bachelor years?
She swallowed hard and set her coffee cup down on the counter. “And what about… the bedroom?” her voice was scarcely more than a whisper.
“I think you’ll like it. The main bedroom has a view of the rose garden and a private courtyard, and the bathroom has a Jacuzzi.”
“That’s not what I meant. What I meant was, will I be expected to…” She dropped her eyes and stared down at her hands. “Will I be expected to have sex with you?”
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