An Improper Deal (Elliot & Annabelle #1) (Billionaires' Brides of Convenience Book 3) (8 page)

At work, I think about my pay as I wipe down the marble counters. How much is going to go out in taxes and so on. How much is going to end up in my pocket. How much of it should be allocated for rent, groceries and other necessities.

Once everything’s paid, I’ll be lucky to have twenty bucks left over, and that’s with the regular monthly deposit from Mr. Grayson. I could probably ask him for more money, but I’m terrified that he’ll think paying for trips specifically for Nonny gives him some kind of hold over her, too. I started out grateful for his help, but now… I can’t trust him anymore. He never told me what he really wanted. He led me to believe the money was coming from some kind of insurance policy Dad had.

And I believed him when he first approached me at the diner in Vegas. Even though I thought it was odd that an insurance rep would track me down to give me money personally, I was too desperate to be wary. Nonny and I had to leave the shelter with that creep in charge. I’m certain he had designs on her, and I was the only one who stopped him.

The part of me that wanted to be out told me I was crazy to doubt Mr. Grayson. He had my picture, my name, my birthday and social security number. How could he have all that if he wasn’t legit? A clean-cut man in a good suit couldn’t be a bad guy, could he?

How wrong I was.

After my lunch break, I finally reach the twentieth floor…which is where Elliot spotted me yesterday. My breath quickens. It’s ridiculous, of course. He isn’t going to come out and grab me again. He didn’t have one of those laminate employee tags hanging around his neck yesterday, and from what I can gather, he’s not in finance anyway.

I keep thinking over my situation, Nonny’s circumstances…and Elliot’s proposition. I wish I had a friend I could talk to, but of course all of my old friends have turned their backs on me. They wouldn’t spit on me if I were on fire. And I haven’t made any new ones since I left home. It isn’t easy for me to open up to people now, knowing how easily they can turn, and my focus has been on surviving, not socializing and networking.

Four more days pass, and finally it’s Saturday. I’m exhausted from not sleeping well. It’s impossible when I keep having dreams that leave me wet and frustrated. No wonder people used to believe in magic. It’s like Elliot’s cast a spell on me.

Nonny’s at band practice, and I’m cleaning the apartment since it’s either that or go stir-crazy.

Okay
.
I have three choices
.

One. Ask Mr. Grayson for the money I need for Nonny and become even more beholden to him. He thought nothing of telling me to strip and get Elliot’s attention. So who knows what he’ll demand if he thinks I owe him even more?

Two. Accept Elliot’s offer. But how do I know he’s actually going to keep his end of the bargain after a year? Let’s just say that I have a serious trust issue with people who promise to give me a lot of money “later”. It was a hard and painful lesson, but it taught me a lot.

Third. Just say the hell with both men. Leave L.A. Go someplace far, far away from here that’s cheaper to live in.

The last option is so tempting. Nonny and I will be okay. We don’t need a lot, and I can get work somewhere. It’s not like a cleaning position is my dream job.

When I put it that way, the choice seems so simple. At the same time…

Los Angeles is the third city we’ve moved to in the last two years. Is it good to uproot Nonny and move again?

And there’s the actual logistics of moving. It costs money to move. Even if we toss out everything we can’t fit into my car, there’s still the matter of the current lease and applying for a new apartment in a new city. The only reason I got this place is because Mr. Grayson cosigned for it. Landlords tend to shy away from prospective tenants without sufficient income or pristine credit.

I put away the vacuum and check the time. “Shit!” I run to my room to grab my purse and keys. I was supposed to pick Nonny up from school half an hour ago!

“Stupid, stupid, stupid!” I mutter as I rush down the stairs.

A black Maserati is pulling in just as I reach the driveway. The car belongs in this neighborhood like caviar in a Halloween pumpkin.

The fancy vehicle glides right into the empty parking spot, looking like something that just came out of a wind tunnel. The jet-sounding engine cuts off. The passenger door opens, rising like a batwing.

My jaw drops. “
Nonny?
”

My sister hops out of the car, a wide grin splitting her face. She waves at me, then reaches into the car for her piccolo case and backpack.

“What are you doing in that car?” I ask, dumbfounded.

“Getting a ride home, obviously!”

Then the driver of the car climbs out.

Elliot looks disgustingly good in a black button-down shirt and slacks. From the way his clothes mold to his body, I know each item costs more than I make in a month. A pair of dark sunglasses sits on his perfect face, and a sexy grin curves his mouth.

All the blood drains from my head, making me faint for a moment. Then a sudden fiery heat suffuses my body until I’m nearly shaking with anger. “What are you doing with my sister?” I demand.

“Like she said. Giving her a ride home…since you weren’t there,” he says mildly. “Surely you didn’t want her standing on the curb, waiting.”

“It’s not a big deal you couldn’t come,” Nonny adds quickly. “I figured you were busy.”

I turn to face her. “You should know better than to get into a car with a stranger! He could’ve been a serial killer!” My hand flings toward him.

“But he isn’t!” Nonny’s smile loses a watt or two. “Come on. He knew things that only someone close to you would know.”

My head swivels toward him. How much has he been digging into my background?

“We should, um, invite him in,” she says.

“No, we shouldn’t. The apartment’s a mess.”

Nonny frowns. “But I thought you said you were going to clean—”

“And he’s about to go home now. I’m sure he’s got better things to do than waste any more time on—”

“I have nothing but time,” he interrupts me.

“Okay.” I take a moment, pressing two fingers to my forehead. “Nonny, could you go in first? Elliot and I need to talk.”

Her gaze darts between me and him, then she finally nods. “Sure.” She turns to Elliot, worship in her young eyes. “Thanks again.”

He makes a pistol with his fingers and points it at her. “No problem.”

Crossing my arms, I wait until she disappears into the building. “All right. What are you doing?”

“You haven’t been sleeping well. Or are you working too hard?”

I can feel his gaze probing me, and my body responds as though he is stroking me with his big, strong hands. That liquid heat starts going again, and it infuriates me as much as it turns me on. This man is an absolute
menace
. I can’t think clearly when he’s near me. I don’t even drink alcohol because of its effects, but he’s more potent than the beer bombs I used to have in high school.

My shoulders rise until they almost touch my ears. “I’m going to ask again. What are you doing?”

He tilts his head. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“You know she’s only fifteen, right?”

Distaste twists his handsome face. “Jesus. I don’t like young girls.”

“So…what are you doing?”

“Giving. Your sister. A ride.”

“Are you stalking me?” Flustered, I make a half-circle with my hand. “Us?”

“Not particularly. But I got tired of waiting for an answer from you.”

“Have you considered the possibility that no response means no?”

“But that would be rude, and you’re too well-bred for that.”

“What do you know about my breeding?”

“Enough. And quite a bit else as well.”

“Then you know I have a lot of baggage.”

“You see me running?” Pulling the sunglasses off his face, he looks at me. His dark gaze ensnares my eyes, and I feel like I’m sinking into quicksand. The problem is I don’t want to get out. “I need an answer. Yes or no?”

“I…uh…” I hug myself and look away.

Everywhere around me is ugly graffiti and crushed beer cans on cracked sidewalks. One of them rolls slightly in the breeze, clinking. Underneath my left foot is a cigarette butt. Good god. I suck as a provider.

It’s time I get real. I can’t let Nonny grow up in this hellhole.

“I…have some conditions,” I say.

“Let’s hear them.”

I look around the driveway. There are people coming in and out, and Elliot’s attracting attention. “Not here. It’s too public.”

“Get in the car,” he says. The passenger door is still open, so I climb inside and he swings it shut. The gentlemanly gesture surprises me. I’m not modern enough to reject old-world manners.

He gets behind the wheel and starts driving.

The interior is posh. I suppose that’s normal with a car like this. The seat feels like it’s made of fresh rose petals rather than leather, and the powerful engine sounds like it wants to go chase down a bullet train or something.

Elliot’s presence is impossible to ignore in such a close environment. The sexual frustration from Monday rears its head, pulsing through me. The soap and clean scent of man coming from him makes my mouth water, and I have the most absurd urge to lick the skin on his neck and see if it’s as sensitive as it looks. I shift slightly and adjust the vents so the cool air blows directly on my heated, tingling skin.

“So. Your conditions?”

It takes me a moment to process his question. When I do, I swallow first before answering. “I can’t trust that you’ll actually pay me the million, so I want you to set the entire amount aside in a separate bank account that can’t be touched.”

“You mean an escrow account.”

“Something like that.”

“Smart.” He nods appreciatively. “What else?”

“Nonny’s coming with me.”

His eyebrows pinch. “Of course. She’s a minor. She is going to be my responsibility as well while we’re married.”

“Oh.” That easy victory leaves me fumbling mentally for a moment. I expected him to complain, or at least object to having to deal with somebody’s teenage sister. It isn’t like he wants anything except my body for a year.

“Do you have any other conditions?” His voice holds a nasty bite. “Anything more insulting?”

I ignore the jab. “I need to work.”

“You want to keep cleaning the OWM building?” he asks, flabbergasted.

“No. Why would you think that?”

“If you could get some other job, you would have taken it.”

My face heats with embarrassment. “Well, I can’t spend my entire day doing nothing.”

He scowls. “I suppose I can see what’s available.”

“I don’t want a pity job. I…” I bite my lip, then say, “What I really want is to go back to school.”

“For real?”

“Of course. I’ll just go to some community college nearby.” That should give me time to explore what I want to study. My old major is out of the question.

“Fine. I’ll have an account set up for the tuition and fees.”

“You don’t have to.”

“My wife will be provided for.”

His tone is hard and leaves no room for objections. Besides, a small, selfish part of me thinks
why not?
He’s got the money and is offering to pay. I can always pay him back later when I finish my degree and get a job.

“Anything else?” he says.

I clear my throat. “Yeah, um…I’m not a professional prostitute. So I can’t guarantee that, you know, I can play this Gigi the way you want me to.”

His knuckles turn white around the steering wheel.

“I don’t know who she is, but I’m guessing I look like her—”

“I will
not
call you by your real name.” His voice is hard, unyielding.

“Fine. But I can’t pretend to be somebody else. I can’t give you the illusion that you’re with another girl.”

“Relax.” He glances at me, giving my body a once-over. “I’m sure you’ll do just fine as yourself.”

I’m skeptical. And my brain’s telling me I’m being crazy and stupid and ridiculous to even consider this. “I want the whole thing in writing, so there’s no ‘he said, she said’ over what we agreed to.”

“Done.”

“And I won’t sleep with you until after the wedding ceremony,” I say.

“You don’t want a taste of what you’ll be getting?” His gaze skims over me again, leaving a trail of tingling nerve endings behind. “Not even a little curious?”

“No,” I rasp out although my body’s screaming for a touch…a taste. Just a little bit.

“I’ll send you the time and place so we can put everything down in a proper contract with a lawyer, and arrange for movers next week to get you out of your place. Tell your boss you quit on Monday.”

“That soon?”

He cocks an eyebrow. “You want to live in that crappy apartment any longer than you have to? Scrub more toilets?” When I don’t answer, he nods. “Okay, then.”

“But not until we have a signed agreement.”

“You’ll have it on Monday. We will marry on Tuesday.” He pulls back into my driveway.

Without waiting for him, I start climbing out. I don’t care when we marry or any of those details. This is just a transaction.

As I’m closing the door, he says, “Think about what you’re going to wear for the wedding, and all the positions you want to try on our wedding night.”

Jesus
. The positions…

Heat sears through me, leaving me aching and wet. My breasts feel swollen and heavy, and my bra is suddenly extra constricting.

I draw in a shaky breath. If he’s half as good at sex as he is at kissing, I might not even survive the wedding night.

Elliot

After I drop
her
back at her place, I come back home. My cock’s harder than steel, and jacking off won’t do a thing. My dick and hand have become BFFs in the last five days.

Damn it. It’s not like me to actually pursue a woman. Women come to me, easily and freely, not the other way around. I don’t even have to crook my finger.

I can still smell her. The apple-scented shampoo in her hair, the sweet natural fragrance of her soft flesh. Her bright emerald eyes and slightly parted mouth said she wanted me too. It was all I could do to let her go rather than screw her brains out in the car.