Grant

 

 

 

“What the hell, Grant?!” Reagan cries shrilly, her arms flying out from her sides, “You had me so worried. This is not the time to be joking around!”

She runs an exasperated hand through her long hair until it hangs almost like a dark sheet around her face, hiding her red rimmed eyes.

I don’t answer, staring levelly at the brown haired woman instead. She gazes back with uncomprehending eyes, slowly blinking as she replays my words over and over again in her pretty head as though she’s trying to put together some hidden meaning between the syllables that unfortunately doesn’t exist.

Reagan stands at least a foot over the girl’s head, and while Reagan is slender and long legged as a supermodel, Poppy is smaller and curvier and so delicious looking that it’s almost difficult to be angry about the situation. But I have to remember that this isn’t just some one night stand that we’re talking about, this is a fucking marriage. This is my entire life.

Every single thing I’d ever known in my adult life was going to be different.

I wouldn’t have my bachelor pad to myself anymore. There would be no more wild nights with Eli.

If I didn’t have partying and drinking and dozens of women in a single night, then just what was left?

At the same time, there was a tiny shred of relief - like a seedling poking through infertile dirt - about the fact that I would no longer have to deal with those things.

Clearing my raw throat, I lean back slowly in my chair and kick my legs up in front of me as though I could actually relax. My heart thuds heavily in my chest as though the blood within my veins had turned to a thick paste. I run a hand across my tight chest, trying to remember how it felt before the world started caving in all around me. 

“He’s not joking.” Poppy abruptly whispers dryly, her wide honey eyes shifting between Reagan and myself in disbelief.

Reagan stumbles to the side, reaching out for the nearby shelf as though she’s going to clutch it. Instead, however, she sinks slowly down onto the floor until her knees knock against the smooth hardwood of my office. She stares down at her limp, powerless hands as a frown twists across my face.

“Reags…”

She holds up a sharp hand to cut me off, her eyes closing as she takes a long, deep breath, “One second.” She mutters, voice muffled.

Poppy stands beside the crumpled woman, gazing down upon her, still a stiff and rigid statue in the middle of my office. When Reagan finally lifts her head, stubborn tears shimmer in the corners of her eyes. I look away, dragging my legs off the desk and folding my hands on top of the smooth wood. It’d been years since I’d seen the strong, sturdy Reagan Sherry shed a tear. It made my heart throb uncomfortably in my chest.

But not a single of Reagan’s tears could change out situation now.

“Why me?”

My gaze is yanked back to Poppy as she shoves a curled lock of untamed hair from her face and takes a slight step closer.

“Why’d you pick me?”

Behind her, Reagan slowly gathers herself once more, gripping hard at the shelf to pull herself back to her feet. She wobbles slightly, inhaling slowly and giving a nearly inaudible sniffle before sweeping her her hair off her shoulders. With a stroke of her fingers, the tears are gone and Reagan’s carefully crafted facade is once more in place. Had someone walked into the office in this very moment, they never would have guessed that Reagan had only just been a wilted flower upon the floor.

“It has to be you, Poppy.” She speaks before I have time to gather my words and her voice is clear and strong as always while my brain is a mess, full of half thoughts and fragmented plans. I’m useless.

The newest Price Corp hire twists slightly to gaze at Reagan, waiting patiently for the explanation that she deserves yet will be so unsatisfied by. Reagan and I both know this, exchanging subtle glances.

“Why me?” She asks again, more firmly this time. Her small fists ball up before she crosses her arms tightly over her chest, “Why are you dragging me into this? I’ve got my own stuff to worry about right now.”

“I need someone like you.” I finally say with a clear of my throat, though it feels as though it’s filled with gravel. I reach towards the cup of water on my desk only to find that it’s empty. Staring intently at the clear glass, I mull deliberately over my words, speaking as though I’m wading slowly through a thick bog, “You’re the type of person that they want me to marry.”

“…type?” Poppy echoes, her brow knotting between her brown eyes. She studies me carefully, undecided on whether or not she was supposed to be offended.

“You’re not the party girl type. You’re not wild. They’re not going to Google you and find nudes.” I shrug, leaning back into my chair as my arms cross behind my head.

“How do you know that?” She scoffs, though when Reagan raises her eyebrows in surprise Poppy immediately shrugs and drops her gaze to her feet in defeat.

Yeah. Just what I thought.

“It’s not a bad thing.” Reagan says quickly, wrapping an arm around Poppy’s shoulders and giving her a gentle squeeze, “There’s nothing wrong with finding fun from other sources than booze and raves.” As she speaks Reagan sends me a pointed frown.

Poppy just shrugs once more, her eyes wounded but her jaw set strong as though she could deflect her disappointment in our accurate estimation of her personality.

Reagan gestures towards the two chairs on the other side of my desk, watching as Poppy uncertainly takes a seat.

She gazes at me from across the table, her hands folding tight in her lap. I can feel the heat of her gaze sweep over my nose and lips and chest as though she’s trying to get to know me from the outside in, like she could piece together the puzzle that’s me with just her eyes.

Grabbing a large pad of paper, Reagan settles down into the other chair and ties her long hair into a low ponytail at the base of her neck. It was time to get down to business. I groan inwardly, shifting forward in my chair. There was no such thing as flying by the seat of your pants with Reagan Sherry in the mix. She’d have the rest of our lives planned out in minutes.

“Alright, let’s talk expectations.” She says firmly, tapping her black pen along the edge of the paper, “How much sex are you two going to have?”

Poppy leaps up from her chair abruptly, her hands held high in front of her like she was building a wall.

“I can’t do this.” She cries shrilly, her words strained and her eyes huge as amber saucers, “This is crazy.”

“Wait, Poppy!” I sigh with a glare at a shrugging Reagan, “In her own disturbed way, Reags is just trying to help.”

“You can find someone else to take part in your crazy plan.” The girl replies, viciously shaking her head, “I don’t want any part of this…this disgrace!” A scarlet blush sears across her cheekbones, her arms wrapping around herself.

“Well, Grant, how much are you willing to compensate Poppy for her dedication to this disgrace?”

The brunette pauses at the door at the word ‘compensate’ glancing curiously over her shoulder though her cheeks still blaze red. Apparently everyone has their price.

“Compensate…?” I echo slowly, frowning across the desk at Reagan.

“Well, I think it’s only fair that Poppy receive monetary compensation for her role in this. I mean, without her you won’t be able to keep your business. Isn’t that correct?” Reagan tilts her head to the side with a sage lift of her eyebrow.

“100,000 dollars.” I shrug, watching Reagan make the notes. No doubt she was going to have this drawn up into some sort of contract.

“Like hell I’m marrying someone for only 100K.” Poppy snaps, making both Reagan and I look towards her in shock.

She turns, walking slowly back to us to peer over Reagan’s shoulder before slowly traipsing around the desk to stand behind me. She runs a finger across the leather of my chair, inspecting it.

As she leans closer, I catch a whiff of sweet lavender and vanilla that makes my mouth water. She stands so close behind me that I can feel every beat of her heart.

“How much did your chair cost?” She asks coolly, her brown eyes suddenly so calculating that even Reagan would be proud. In fact, I saw the youngest Sherry daughter smirk slightly as she happily crosses out my monetary suggestion.

“Ten thousand…” I grumble, frowning at her across the desk as she ticks her fingers with deliberate slowness, counting how many chairs she’d seen lining the hallway.

Her fingers dance along my shoulder and an unexpected tremor rolls through my spine at her touch, “And how much was your suit?” She purrs.

“You can’t judge a man on his suit!” I glare, pushing her hand off my shoulder though I revel in the fleeting feel of her hand beneath my own.

“I want a million bucks.” Poppy glides up onto the edge of my desk, her palms planting at her sides as she reclines slightly backwards, “Did you get that, Reagan?”

Reagan chuckles and nods.

“A million…?” I croak, eying the hustler posed as a beautiful brown eyed woman.

“And I want a term limit.” She continues with a firm nod at Reagan, her demands never finished, “I’m not going to be married to you for the rest of my life.”

“What? There isn’t a woman on this planet that wouldn’t want to marry me!”

Poppy frowns, so unconvinced that it’s wounding as Reagan lifts her hand into the air, “Make that two women.” She grins.

I glare at Reagan and then Poppy, “So what are you suggesting?”

“An engagement length of your choice and a year and three months of wedded bliss. Then I leave with my cool million and you get to keep your company.”

“Why a year and three months?” Reagan asks, her pen flying across the paper, “Isn’t that an odd number?”

“Exactly,” Poppy nods, “If we break up on our year anniversary, it’d be suspicious. Right? Over a year will be enough to rehab your image.”

“Damn.” Reagan and I murmur simultaneously.

I had clearly underestimated Poppy. That much was obvious.

“So?” She asks, holding out a small hand towards me, “Is that a deal?”

Reagan watches curiously as I slowly extend my own hand towards her own and shake it.

“Deal.” I murmur, though I was beginning to think that perhaps I was in over my head.

 

~~

 

“All that’s left now is to take it to the lawyer.” Reagan hums, chewing the end of her pen as she drags a finger across the written stipulations of our marriage to check for any last minute additions before her blue eyes flicker towards me with a reassuring smile, “And don’t worry, Jared will be discreet.”

“Jared?” I ask, blinking.

The smile falls from Reagan’s mouth as she dramatically rolls her eyes, “How the hell have you been our CEO for this long without even meeting Jared Polinksi? He’s the lawyer that like all of our deals go through.”

“Huh.” I murmur, stroking my chin, “The name doesn’t even sound familiar.”

Reagan only rolls her eyes and scoops up the papers before climbing to her feet, “You guys should spend some time getting to know one another, I’ll get this to Jared. I’ll see if I can convince him to get this done overnight somehow.”

“Who’s Jared again?” I ask teasingly as she groans and slips her purse over her shoulder, giving a little wave to Poppy before gliding out the office.

As the click of the black haired beauty’s heels faded down the hallway however, silence thick as a wool blanket descends over Poppy and I.

We stare at each other quietly from across the desk, two strangers that would soon share a home and a life. She fidgets, checking her watch and her sleeves and the straps of her shoes. She looks basically everywhere but at me.

“So, tell me about yourself.” I say with just a bit too much vigor, my voice booming lightly through the office as I adjust the tie around my neck.

Was it just me or was it suddenly sweltering in here? I could swear my sprawling office was shrinking down to barely accommodate me and this woman who I would soon call my bride.

Bride. Wedding. Husband.

Ugh.

Just who the hell did Ted Sherry think he was that he could demand something like a marriage of me?

Or perhaps he was hoping I would refuse it and he’d have the grounds to kick me out of my own business. Like hell that was going to happen!

Just you wait, Ted… I was going to get so married you wouldn’t believe it.

“…and that’s when we moved in together.” Poppy mumbles as the blood drains from my face.

Shit.

She’d been talking that whole time?

I was off to a great start as hubby of the year.

“That’s, ah, lovely.” I add with an enthusiastic nod.

Enthusiasm was always the right choice wasn’t it?

A frown twinges upon the young woman’s lips but I keep a firm smile on my lips.

“And how old are you?” I inquire with a graceful sip from my water glass before remembering that it was empty.

The frown grows deeper on Poppy’s face as she glances towards the door, no doubt wishing that Reagan would return and rescue her from this awkward conversation.

“Well, like I said… I just turned twenty three yesterday.”

“Damn, I spilled coffee on you on your birthday?”

Her eyes narrow, scowl now a permanent fixture on her perfectly full lips.

“Sorry. I don’t know why I said that.” I mutter quietly, fingers drumming against the desk. It was my turn to look anywhere but at her.

“It’s okay. Reagan warned me that you thought you were a ladies’ man.”

“Yeah, I hear that a lot - wait, what?!”

A smirk cracks through Poppy’s frown as she rolls her eyes playfully and digs through her purse.

I reach forward, lightly cupping the back of one of her hands, “Speaking of the coffee, how about I get that for you? I do owe you one after all.”

Poppy gazes down at our hands for a long second before slowly withdrawing from my touch and climbing to her feet, her cell curled between her fingers.

“I can’t.” She murmurs with an unconvincing shift of her eyes, “I’ve got somewhere to be.”

“Sure.” I mumble, utterly rejected, watching as she reaches out her hand once more before me, her fingers outstretched.

 “Um,” She begins uncertainly, “We can discuss our… situation in more depth tomorrow.”

Jerking forward, I encapsulate her hand in my own, startled by how small and her fingers feel against my palm. I could have sworn I felt the sparks of electricity dance up the veins of my arm but Poppy remains cool as a cucumber. She turns and walks towards the door, departing with a single shy glance back towards me.

Suddenly alone with my thoughts, they spiral around inside my brain like a hurricane.

What had I done?

I know literally nothing about the woman I’d chosen to walk down the aisle with me. I was hanging my entire future on someone I’d never really met before… but on the other side of the same crazy coin, Poppy had walked into work today not knowing that she was going to leave engaged to her boss.

How insane that you can wake up one morning not knowing that your entire world is going to change.

Equally insane was how strangely confident I felt right now. Even though I didn’t know Poppy, I was content that it was her I’d chosen. I was content to spend the next year and three months with her at my side.

What was it about the brown eyed woman that made me feel this way?

From within my pocket, the brand new cell that Reagan picked out for sang its obnoxiously perky song and I was glad she wasn’t here to yell at me.

I pluck it from the pocket, glancing only for a second at the number on the screen.

“How’s it going, Eli?”

“Great, great. You missed out on a hell of a night, Grant.”

“I left at 5 AM. I think I witnessed most of it.” I lean back in my chair, watching the digital clock slowly tick onwards.

3:05… 3:06

“5 in the morning is when all the good parties start.” I can practically hear the smirk in Eli’s words.

“If you say so.” I mutter with a roll of my eyes.

“We’re having a take two tonight. I was hoping you could come. Kitten will be there.”

3:06… 3:07

“I’m pretty tired.” I slowly gather together my things, checking for my wallet and my keys. With any luck, the shareholders will actually let me leave today.

“Come on, mate.” Eli sighs, pouting through his words, “I’m only in town for another few days. Can’t you come party with me one more time?”

I frown, running my fingers along the buttons of my black suit.

When I don’t answer right away, Eli chuckles.

“I’ll even make sure you keep all your clothes this time.”

Groaning, I run a hand through my hair.

3:08… 3:09

Was this possibly the very last time I’d be able to go out and party? When I marry Poppy, I won’t be able to do it anymore. This could be my one last fling, my bachelor party.

“You know what,” I smirk, heading towards the door of my office, “That sounds like fun.”

“You won’t regret this, Grant.” Eli responds happily.

Unfortunately, my Australian friend was very, very wrong.