An Improper Deal (Elliot & Annabelle #1) (Billionaires' Brides of Convenience Book 3) (9 page)

If Ryder were in town, I’d go out with him and party, but the bastard is still out of the country. I grab a half-empty bottle of scotch and pour myself a full glass. I really need a drink.

My phone rings. I raise my eyebrows when I see Ryder’s name flash on the screen.

“Well, think of the devil. What the hell’s going on?” I say.

“Hello to you too, bro. Have you gotten into a lot of trouble while I’ve been gone?”

“Of course. I wouldn’t be me if I behaved,” I say. “You still with Paige?”

“Yup. We got married on the beach here.”

“Whoa. What?” I shake my head as if to clear cobwebs. “So you guys got hitched after all?”

“Of course.”

“And all those people thought you called things off.”

“What people?”

“Pretty much everyone. Check the Internet,” I say, knowing he doesn’t bother with such things. “Not that I read shit like that. Rots my brain.”

Ryder snickers. “Not much left to rot.”

“I’ll have you know I’m still a genius.”

“Oh, right. And ninety-nine percent of your IQ is dedicated to getting into trouble, and the rest is spent on ensuring that you can breathe on your own.”

“Fuck you.”

“No thanks, I’m happy with Paige.” He pauses. “Have you finally found a stripper to marry?”

“I have.”

“Is she hot?”

“Do you really have to ask?” She’s more than hot.

He pauses for a moment, then lowers his voice. “Can she actually talk?”

“Of course she can talk!”

“Okay, no need to get testy. Based on what you said before, it kind of sounded like you wanted a vegetable with nice tits and an ass.”

I almost snort, but his description isn’t entirely off-base. She was stiffer than a fresh cucumber on that stage where I first saw her.

And she does have the most incredible tits and ass. I can’t wait to get her naked. Wonder how sensitive she’ll be… Maybe I can make her come just by licking that area between her upper lip and gum. Some women can—

“You’re quiet, and now I’m worried,” Ryder says.

“Well, don’t be. She’s fully vocal. We’re getting married next week.”

“That fast?”

“Why wait? This isn’t about romance.”

“True enough. What’s her name? Honey Pott?”

This time I do allow myself to snort out loud. “No, you cliché-spouting idiot. It’s An”—I catch myself—“Gigi.”

“Pretty name.”

“Thought so too. Thanks for introducing us.”

“Huh? How am I responsible for this?”

“She came out of the cake you sent.”

“What cake?”

I pull the phone away from my ear and look at it. “The birthday cake! You said you’d send me one.”

“Oh,
thaaaat
.” He sniffs. “Well, I can’t take the credit here. Fact is, I forgot.”

“You…forgot?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Well then who sent it?”

“No idea. Maybe Blake?”

“Nah. He’s too uptight.”

“Normally, yeah, but he’s pissed off about Dad’s bullshit—”

“God, who isn’t pissed off about Dad’s bullshit?”

“—so maybe he did it anyway to help you along.”

I don’t know about that. Blake is…very uptight. “If he’s that mad, he should set Elizabeth up with someone.”

“I think he only knows sociopaths like Dane. They’re like best friends,” Ryder says.

“Yeah, but that’s better than the folks in our crowd.” We tend to hang out with a wild bunch.

There’s a pause. “Yeah. I can’t think of a single guy I’d be okay with.”

“No shit.” Elizabeth is far too pure for any of the filthy reprobates we know.

“We should get her a virgin,” Ryder says.

I actually spew scotch. Some of it gets on the coffee table. “A
what?
From where? Junior high?”

“I’m sure there are some left…you know…somewhere.”

I shake my head. “She’d kill us if she knew we were talking about pairing her up with an altar boy.”

“Hey, don’t knock it. It’s her fault for being my younger sister. I know all there is to know about assholes.” He pauses for a moment and murmurs something to someone. It sounds like Paige. “I gotta go. When’s the wedding? Maybe we can make it.”

“Sometime soon, preferably next Tuesday. But don’t bother. You’re on your honeymoon.”

“All right, if you’re sure.”

“I’m sure. Give Paige a kiss from me.”

“My wife isn’t getting shit from you.” He hangs up with a laugh.

I toss the phone on the couch and replace my scotch. What Ryder said starts to tickle my brain, and not in a good way.

If he didn’t send the cake, who did?

* * *

Annabelle

“You have to tell me all about him!” Nonny says, her eyes bright. I don’t know how she’s been able to wait.

“What’s there to say?”

“Ohmygod! Are you freaking kidding me? You’ve been dating that hottie and you never said a word! So unfair, Anna. So unfair. I know you’re mad that I got into his car, but seriously, the more I think about it, the madder I am that you never breathed a word. I’m your
sister
. You should’ve
told
me.” She sits at the table, resting her elbows on it and propping her face in her hands. “So now, c’mon. Spill. Everything.”

“Well…we met a little while back.” I’m not telling her where.

“He said you guys spent some time together on Monday, which explains why you were late. I should’ve known you were bullshitting. ‘A wrong turn’.”

“Uh,
language
.”

“Oh come on. Stop yelling and start talking. Maybe my language will improve.”

I shake my head and start putting together two ham and cheese sandwiches. “We haven’t been seeing each other for that long.”

An understatement. We’ve seen each other maybe four times total. We just have chemistry, that’s all. But that doesn’t mean we actually know each other.

“And?”

“And…I don’t know.” I push the one with extra mayo toward Nonny and sit next to her. “Now he wants to get married.”

The sandwich stops mid-air as she stares at me. “Oh my
god!
Wow!
I’m so happy for you!”

“Thanks, but… Don’t you think it’s a little fast?”

“Oh, so what? If it’s true love?” She takes a bite of her food, her eyes on some starry place far beyond the kitchen.

If it were true love, I wouldn’t be so ambivalent. Since I can’t talk about that, I just nibble on my sandwich.

She swallows, then has some water. “Okay, love at first sight totally exists. Besides, how could anybody not love you? You’re the sweetest, nicest person in the world.”

“Nonny…”

“If you have bad feelings about him, then you shouldn’t. Being hot and handsome isn’t everything, right?”

“No, it isn’t.”

“Although…he is
really
hot. But if you want to see where it’s going, maybe you should. What if you regret it for the rest of your life?”

“Regret?”

“Yeah, like ‘oh, what if I’d married that guy’ kind of thing, you know? It’s more common than you think.”

“Is that so?” I give her a wry smile. “And how would you know, Dr. Lovelorn?”

She rolls her eyes. “I listen to music. Even Adele sang about the love that got away, and it was one of her most popular songs! Why would it resonate with so many people if it wasn’t true for them?”

That makes me pause. “You know…you’re right.”

“Kind of makes you want to treat me with more respect, huh?” She grins.

Her happiness warms my heart. I can’t deny it. But at the same time I know the truth. This isn’t about love, not at all. It’s about him wanting to sleep with me until he gets bored—which he estimates to be about a year—and the marriage is something he is doing for some mysterious reason that apparently he’s not going to let me in on.

Oh and I forgot about him calling me Gigi. That’s just…too weird. And after listening to Nonny, I wonder if Gigi was the one who got away for him, and he’s trying to relive some deranged fantasy of having her in his life through me. Despite his protests, I’m pretty certain I look a lot like this Gigi so he can almost pretend I’m her.

“Are you really okay about me marrying him?” I ask. “I mean, if I decide to do it?”

“Yeah. Besides, I think he’ll be good to you.”

“How can you tell?”

“Because he was really nice to me.”

“He was just buttering you up.”

She shakes her head. “I would’ve known if he was being phony. He didn’t talk down to me, and he was polite and nice the entire time. Also he shut the Evil Squad up with just one look.”

A realization dawns on me. Those girls were picking on her again, and Elliot in his Maserati defended Nonny. I know a lot of why they mock Nonny is the fact that we’re poor and she isn’t fashionable or anything. I’m sure someone like Elliot giving Nonny a ride stopped them in their tracks.

“Well. I’m happy to hear that,” I say.

“So you should say yes.”

“Yeah. Sure.”

“If you say yes now, have you guys set a date?”

“Tuesday.”

“Huh?”

“This coming Tuesday,” I clarify.

Nonny’s eyes go round. “
Tuesday?
”

“He apparently can’t wait.”

Sighing, she melts. “Oh my god, that’s so ro
man
tic!”

I make agreement-type noises until she frowns. “You don’t sound that excited.”

“No, I am. It’s just, you know, I’m just thinking about how we’re going to pull it off, that’s all.”

Nonny grins. “You’ll find a way. True love always does! Can I come too?”

“Don’t know yet. It’s a school day,” I say.

“Are you guys going to have a real ceremony later?”

“Maybe,” I lie. I can’t help myself, not when she’s looking at me like I’m a fairy princess.

But I know better. I’m entering into a bargain with a devil who seduces me even in my sleep.

Annabelle

Over the weekend, I take my time making a list of things I need from him in order for me to want to do this whole marriage-for-sex thing. Nonny can sigh all she wants, but business is business.

Come Monday, I don’t turn in my notice. Elliot might think it’s a done deal, but nothing’s happening until we agree to everything. Contrary to what he apparently believes, I’m not averse to honest work, even if it’s scrubbing toilets.

I tuck the list into my purse and drive to the law firm he selected—Richmond, Worthington and Chen. It sounds important and diverse. I’m sure it has the appropriate male to female ratio to meet whatever the legal requirement is in California. According to my Google search, the law firm is one of the best in the state, handling matters for all types of celebrities and wealthy individuals. The lawyer Elliot and I have an appointment with is one of the partners, Craig Richmond.

I manage to arrive a few minutes before the appointed time and go to the lobby to sign in. The place is all chrome and marble and glass. But the display of influence and power doesn’t look flashy, thanks to the cool modern feel of the design. Not so much gaudy as…
haughty
. Yeah, that’s the word.

Elliot is sitting in one of the plush mini-sofas, casually thumbing his phone. A blue T-shirt with the red Superman logo clings to his lean, muscled chest and tight abs. If I were the shirt, I’d be clinging too. My fingers itch to run over his body. I curl them, but it only seems to intensify the tingling sensation. Faded jeans fit him perfectly, the hem frayed without looking old and tired. I can see the outline of strong thighs and those calves underneath the soft denim. He rests an ankle on the opposite knee and stretches his left arm along the back of the couch, one leather-clad foot bobbing to some beat only he can hear. The pose emphasizes the smooth, hard lines of his biceps and forearms. He looks utterly at home, like an athlete who owns the building.

Meanwhile I
don’t
look like I belong here. I’m in my best dress—a green silk number that brings out my eyes and cinches my waist. But it’s old, the cut outdated. My black shoes are just as old and have a few small scuff marks, although they aren’t that obvious.

A trio of fashionably dressed young women check him out as they walk past, but he doesn’t seem to notice. He’s immersed in whatever’s on the screen.

Suddenly, he looks up, and I feel the force of his scrutiny. It’s like a cyclone that sucks me in, leaving me shaken to the core, and I can’t look away.

He stands up with a small frown. “I should’ve sent… Never mind.” He takes my elbow, the contact searing me like a brand. “Ready?”

I nod.

The security guy recognizes him on sight; Elliot scrawls his name in the visitor’s log. I write mine neatly, then get taken to a bank of elevators.

As we wait for our car, he dips his head and whispers, “I should’ve stipulated that I don’t want you to wear anything except skirts and dresses.”

“Why?”

“Easy access. Plus, you have great legs.”

Heat floods my face, neck and chest, and it’s not embarrassment. “Stop
saying
stuff like that.”

“Why?”

“Because I need to focus.”

Thankfully the elevator opens, and I step inside. He follows me in, and the door closes, trapping us inside. Together. Alone.

“It’ll all be standard stuff,” he says. He stands like a perfect gentleman without crowding me, but I feel like I’m surrounded. I can’t even draw in air without smelling his heady scent.

“To you maybe. I’ve never done this kind of thing before.”

“Me either. You’re going to be my first wife.”

“Hopefully you won’t repeat this with your second,” I say, even as a hot ugly feeling roils through me.

I don’t know why the idea of him marrying again bothers me. He made it clear I was going to be his wife for exactly one year. There is no way he’s going to stay single forever afterward. He’s too great a catch, and he’ll want to have a family at some point.

Get your head right
.
Don’t be stupid
, I tell myself over and over again as our elevator rises. I hold myself as still as possible even though I’m slick between my legs, and I’m dying to shift my weight so I don’t feel the wetness so much. It’s that crazy kiss—and his parting remark—that keep coming back to me. Masturbation did very little to alleviate my frustration, and I don’t know why. It did end my orgasm drought. That should’ve been enough, and I should’ve been able to shrug off his effect on me.