Chapter Fifteen

Annabelle

Elliot is waiting for me, standing by the passenger door. His gaze is hidden behind a pair of sunglasses, but I can feel his head-to-toe perusal. The breeze rustles my dress, the fabric rubbing against my nipples. They pucker, and a sharp sensation dashes through my body. I clench my legs. It’s the wind, really…nothing to do with the weight of his eyes roaming over my body.

Still, heat follows, and I flush. I should’ve asked Josephine for some sunglasses of my own when I had the chance. It seems unfair he can look in secret, while I can’t.

His mouth parts, and the tip of his tongue wets his lips. Shades or no, there’s a hunger in the man. And my body inexplicably responds to that need with my own. It pulses through my veins until I have to open my mouth to breathe.

Wordlessly, he opens the door to the Mercedes, and I climb inside. The edge of his hand brushes my bare shoulder; goosebumps rise, and I almost falter.

When he’s inside, I cross my arms over my chest. “How many cars do you own?”

“Enough to get me where I need to go,” he says.

I snort at the non-answer. “Do you have a yacht and private jet, too?”

“No yacht, but the jet is affirmative.” In some men the statement might have come off as bragging, but his tone is so bland he could be talking about what to pack for a business trip.

“Where are we going?”

“A restaurant.”

I scowl. “Are you always this helpful when you answer?”

“Yes.”

Argh. Why am I bothering with conversation? Hasn’t he made it clear over and over again that he’s doing this specifically for sex? I just happen to have a body that he wants for a year. Why would he treat me like a real person?

I pull out my phone to text Nonny. She isn’t a baby, like he said, but she is my little sister and my responsibility. I need to make sure she’s okay.

Before I can start typing my message, I frown at a text from my bank. An additional thousand dollars has landed in my account.

My hand tightens. That’s Mr. Grayson’s automatic monthly deposit.

Does he know that I’m about to marry? He hasn’t contacted me since he told me to snag Elliot. I have no idea if he’s still serious about it, or if he knows I’m about to marry Elliot for money.

Lots of money.

God. My head is a mess. Not a pretty place. I need some time and space to regroup and think, but it’s hard when I’m constantly worried about money and strung tight with need pulsing between my legs.

Elliot maneuvers the car into the traffic and hands me a manila envelope. “From the lawyer.”

“I thought it was going to my place.”

“It’s my copy plus another one for you.”

Curious, I pull out the papers. Four sheets, two per set. Craig wasn’t kidding about it being short and sweet. Everything’s clearly written out, black and white, and ridiculously stark. Laid out like this, what Elliot and I are doing is so obvious—a year of sex in exchange for him providing for me and my sister financially, plus the façade of marriage in exchange for a million-dollar settlement. It’s a simple transaction, and the lawyer’s clever wording makes it sound totally legit. It reminds me of the way Dad used to dupe people with fancy but plausible sounding talk.

Stop thinking about Dad. I have to focus on the present, and what this deal from Elliot means. Women stay with men for far less than what he’s giving.

Yet somehow the arrangement leaves a deep void in my heart. I can’t even say it’s because he’s treating me like a whore, because he isn’t. If that were the case, he would’ve never proposed marriage.

“This is fine,” I say. “I’ll sign it.”

“You should get a lawyer to review it,” he says. “Just to make sure you’re one hundred percent comfortable with everything.”

“It’s very clear.”

“You won’t have second thoughts?”

“In a year? Hardly enough time for second thoughts.”

The muscles in his jaw flex, but he doesn’t say anything. Nor does he look at me. His gaze is focused on the congested road ahead of us.

I pull out a pen from my purse and scrawl my name on the paper, then put the agreement back into the envelope. “There.”

His shoulders sag almost imperceptibly. “We’ll marry tomorrow. You’re free I presume.”

“I haven’t turned in my notice,” I say.

“Why not?”

“Needed to make sure you weren’t just jerking me around.”

A beat of silence. Cars start to inch around us, and we move forward.

“Do people do that a lot?” he asks.

“What?”

“Jerk you around.”

“No.” But fate does. The stuff that’s happened to me… I don’t even want to think about it. It’s easier to pretend none of it ever occurred and try to minimize the effect on Nonny as much as I can.

He reaches into a pocket and pulls out a small velvet box. “Here. This should do for the engagement ring.”

It’s probably the most unceremonious proposal ever, but I prefer it over some faux romantic gesture. We know what we’re doing. A perfunctory solitaire diamond ring should be fi—

I open the box and gasp. The Asscher-cut diamond is huge. If it were any bigger, it would look positively vulgar. “This… It isn’t real, is it?” I ask, dumbfounded. I can’t imagine how much it must have cost.

He snorts. “Of course it’s real. A little over six carats, I think.”

Of course it’s real. Like a six-carat diamond is nothing. “Look… I can’t accept this.”

“Why not? Too small? The cut not to your liking?”

“No, it’s too big! I can’t wear something like this. What if I lose it?”

“Eh, shit happens. Don’t worry so much, just put it on. It’s what’s expected as my fiancée.” When I don’t move, he takes my nerveless hand into his and slides the ring on my finger. “See? A perfect fit.”

Once it’s on, I can’t help but admire the gorgeous inner fire, the beautifully simple platinum band that showcases the stone. It’s crazy—I’m wearing a ring that cost more than everything I own. And it also makes me apprehensive. What exactly is expected here? It can’t be just sex, can it? For what he’s paid for the ring alone, Elliot could have all the hookers he wants.

Finally, a little after six thirty, we reach a restaurant. La Mer, the sign reads. The clever landscaping and lights around the entrance make the bushes and flowers look like exotic coral and marine life. The maître d’ greets us in a crisp suit.

“Good evening, Mr. Reed.” He smiles at me. “Miss.”

“Good evening,” I murmur.

“Your party is waiting for you.”

I look at Elliot. He hasn’t said a word about other people. I assumed it would be just the two of us.

A lithe blonde in a conservative black dress takes us to the back. The interior of the restaurant is one huge aquarium maze. Dazzlingly colored tropical fish swim around in blue-black water, appearing and disappearing. Some inoffensive classical piano music drifts from the sound system, providing a background for the conversational buzz around us…but not loud enough to drown out the clinking of heavy and well-polished silverware. Looking at the exceptionally dressed and groomed diners, I’m suddenly grateful that Elliot had Josephine work on me. I would’ve been mortified in my old clothes.

We walk around a wall of water. The dark blue light renders it almost, but not quite, opaque. Our guide makes a sharp turn to the left…and there’s our table, which is in the most private corner of the restaurant. A stunning blonde is seated there, her fitted red dress probably as pricey as the one Elliot bought me. But the comfortable air of “this is where I belong” tells me no man bought hers. Her hair is twisted into a simple chignon, and pearls adorn her ears and throat. She says something to a girl beside her, and my body freezes when I realize it’s Nonny. She looks different. No longer in old, Walmart sale clothes, she glows like a princess in a modest teal dress. The fabric is as delicate and soft as butterfly wings, and I know it must’ve cost a fortune.

I shoot Elliot a sharp look, which he studiously ignores. He merely puts a hand at the small of my back and urges me forward.

The blonde turns our way. “Oh good. You made it!”

“Hi!” Nonny waves.

Elliot leans down to kiss the blonde on the cheek. “Of course we did.” He straightens. “I’m surprised you’re on time. Thought you’d be late from the traffic.”

“Never be late for a free dinner.” She winks at Nonny, then turns to me.

I sink into my seat without acknowledging the question on her face. Elliot glides into place next to me. “Gigi,” he says, by way of introduction. I’m certainly not going to tell her my fake name.

Nonny frowns and looks at me, but I shake my head.

If the name Gigi means anything to the blonde, I can’t tell. Her gaze assesses me thoroughly, like I’m a fish on sale. She misses nothing as she takes in my hair, the pricey jewelry on me, and the dress…and the over-the-top ring. Something not entirely comfortable passes in her eyes before a polite smile appears, and then she’s the picture of social grace. “So nice to meet you. I’m Elizabeth.”

“My half-sister,” Elliot adds, then addresses his sister again. “I see you already met Nonny.”

“Yes. She’s such a sweetie.”

Nonny flushes, then looks at me. “Did you know she’s Ryder Reed’s sister?”

Ryder Reed is her favorite actor. But then, he’s a lot of women’s favorite.

Nonny stops with a sudden gasp, her eyes going wide as she turns to Elliot. “Wait…that means you’re related to him too!”

“Yep,” he says.

His hand rests on the back of my chair, and the thumb is brushing against my bare shoulder. I suppress a shiver as heat starts at the contact.

“Show me the ring!” Nonny says.

“Yes, show them the ring,” Elliot says lazily.

Licking my suddenly dry lips, I extend my hand. Elizabeth nods with a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. Nonny squeals. “Oh my gosh, it’s gorgeous!”

Forcing what I hope looks like a happy smile, I let her admire the ring for a minute or two before pulling my hand back. “We should probably order.”

Elizabeth and Elliot don’t bother to look at the leather-bound menu. It’s obvious they know exactly what they want, while my eyes cross at all the options. Even before everything tumbled down on my family, we never ate at a restaurant this fancy.

“I’ll have whatever you recommend,” I say finally, giving up.

Nonny’s shameless. “Does Ryder Reed come here a lot?”

“Fairly often,” Elizabeth says.

“Oh my god, that’s so cool! I’ll take whatever he usually has.”

“Fine, but no scotch,” Elliot says.

“Really? Is that, like, his favorite drink?”

I tense. She’s only fifteen, and she has no business talking about hard liquor with that kind of longing in her voice, even if it is her favorite actor’s poison of choice. “Nonny—”

“He rarely drinks,” Elizabeth says smoothly. “Alcohol is bad for an actor’s career. Makes you age prematurely.”

From the way Elliot snorts softly, I know she’s lying. But I’m grateful anyway. It’s bad enough that Nonny is at the age when she’s curious about stuff like this. I don’t want anything to encourage her in any way.

Our server takes our order and brings a bottle of a white wine I’ve never heard of. I turn it down, opting for sparkling water instead. Elliot cocks an eyebrow, but doesn’t comment.

When the food comes, it’s simply…exceptional. I’m not a big seafood eater, and the portions aren’t large, but everything melts in my mouth in an incredibly perfect blend of herbs and sauces.

“So…when’s the big day?” Elizabeth asks.

“ASAP,” Elliot answers. “Probably tomorrow.”

“Do you want me there? I can cancel my meetings.”

“No, it’s fine.”

Nonny looks at me. “I want to be there.”

“You have school,” I say.

A stubborn look enters her eyes.

“It’s going to be a very small ceremony,” Elliot says. “And since it’s happening so soon, I doubt anyone from my family’s going to show.”

“Not even Ryder Reed?” Nonny says.

“Especially not Ryder. He’s on his honeymoon in Thailand.”

Her shoulders sag in that dramatic end-of-the-world way only teenagers can manage.

“But when he’s in L.A., maybe we can see him.” Elliot winks conspiratorially.

I jerk at the unexpected kindness. I’m sure women want introductions to his more famous brother all the time, and he could’ve just dismissed Nonny. After all, she’s just extra baggage in this transaction of ours, and I’m not going to expect that he treat her as anything more.

But this…? I don’t think he did it out of calculation. He already has my signature on the agreement.

I frown at the sea bream on my plate. I don’t want him to be nice to us, and especially not to Nonny. She doesn’t understand what the deal is. I don’t want her to develop unrealistic expectations, which can be dangerous. She’s already experienced enough disappointments in life.

And I’m torn; he’s not acting like a moneyed and entitled jerk around Nonny. Nothing much can get to me, but kindness to my sister? There’s no weapon more potent.

He is probably too well-bred to blow her off, I tell myself. Despite his wealthy family, he doesn’t strike me as the type who grew up with everything handed to him on a silver platter. And he made his own fortune, separate from his father’s.

But he isn’t well-bred enough to keep his hands to himself. A small brush of fingers. The cool glide of his slacks against my bare calves as he shifts. The casual way he pulls a tendril of hair off my flushed cheek.

And with every touch, a potent longing pierces me. I don’t know why this man makes me feel this way. It’s not the length of time since I last had sex. I’ve gone without before, I’ve felt attraction before, but those were pale shadows of what he arouses in me. It’s as though I’ve been drinking water all along, mistaking it for wine.

I go on autopilot, hoping nobody will notice. Somehow my brain commands me to smile when it’s appropriate and nod when required. By the time the server places dark chocolate mousse in front of us, tension winds through my body like piano wire. I’m so hypersensitive that the soft fabric of my dress seems to scrape my skin every time I breathe.

I pick up my fork and take a small bite of the dessert, but other than the fact that it’s soft, nothing registers. I’m too tightly strung to notice. From the others’ reactions though, the mousse must be decadent, a stairway to gastronomic heaven.

“Isn’t tomorrow a school day?” Elizabeth says, glancing at her slim platinum watch.

“I don’t go to bed that early.” Nonny polishes off the chocolate mousse on her plate, licking her lips.

“No, you’re right,” I say. “It’s time we got home.”

Something passes between Elizabeth and Elliot. “I’ll take her home,” Elizabeth says.

“You don’t have to bother,” I say.

“Ryder’s letting me drive his Ferrari,” she says casually. “I’m pretty sure it’s more fun now that the traffic’s died out some.”

Nonny’s eyes go round. “You drive his Ferrari?”

“Until he gets back, anyway. You want a ride?”

She spins toward me. “Oh my gosh, can I go with Elizabeth? Please?”

I want to tell her no, but the word sticks in my throat. My sister’s eyes are brighter than the sun, and she’s clasping her hands together in unconscious prayer.

Elliot leans over. “She’ll be fine. Elizabeth is an excellent driver.”

“I promise she’ll get home in one piece,” Elizabeth says.

“Yes, and I’ll go straight to bed when I get home!” Nonny adds.

“Har har. You’ll be too busy texting your friends about the experience. But okay. Ten minutes of texting and then straight to bed and to sleep.”

“Deal,” she says, even though her mouth is slightly pursed.

Elizabeth stands, says her goodbyes, and Nonny follows her out around the blue oceanic wall.

I nurse my sparkling water. “What is this about really?” I blurt out. The question’s been in the back of my mind during the entire dinner.

“Meeting the family before the deed,” he says.

“Your parents—”

“No. Hopefully you’ll never meet them.”

I stiffen, but put on a smile. My throat is tight. It’s absurd that his words cut so deep. Good god. I know he thinks the best I can be is a cleaning lady or a stripper or a hooker. Just because he’s marrying me temporarily—in what’s obviously going to be a rushed ceremony—doesn’t mean that’s changed or he actually has any respect for me. He’s just a crazy rich guy with some weird eccentric need I know nothing about.

I don’t think his half-sister does either from the way she reacted—well, didn’t react— to “Gigi”.

He leans closer. “Don’t read anything into it.” Something dark passes in his eyes as his breath feathers over my lips. “Like you said earlier, it’s just a year.”

His hand closes around the back of my neck the exact instant his mouth fits over mine. He tastes me with slow licks, and there’s a sound deep in his throat like I’m the most sinful dessert he’s ever had. His fingers stroke the sensitive skin at the nape of my neck, and shivers race over me. He possesses my mouth with absolute surety—it’s a given that I’m his. His dominance pulls at me. I tilt my head so we can fit better, and I can get a better taste of him.

There’s fiery liquor underneath the decadent chocolate and something dangerously primitive and untamed. My body responds to the last with unabashed hunger. Even as he consumes me with a kiss full of lush heat, I too am devouring him to fill the void inside me, driven by a need I’ve never felt before. I strain to get closer, desperate for more of him. My nipples pucker and peak, and the slickness spreads to my inner thighs.

“Damn, you’re hot,” he grinds out. His mouth is back on mine as his big hands push at the hem of my dress; he pulls me over, onto his lap, my legs positioned indecently on each side of his thighs.

His hands knead my ass through the thin fabric, and the touch only inflames my already heated body. My nerves tingle there; I had no idea my butt was this sensitive. The cool air against my already overheated clit and sex drives me crazy. The contrast only sharpens my need.

I pant as his hot mouth traces my cheeks, my jaw. I can’t focus on anything else but the sensations he arouses in me, how much I crave him.

“Hold on to the table,” he orders, his voice rasping over me.

My hands wrap around the edge of the table behind me. The position arches my back, thrusting my breasts forward. My wet folds hover a few inches above his crotch, and my pelvis rolls in the air, desperate for him.

“Jesus, I knew it,” he says, pushing the skirt of my dress out of the way. “Fuck.” His fingers run over the swollen tissues below. I rock against them, mindless. He pushes a finger inside, his thumb at my clit. “You’re tight,” he grinds out.

I don’t care if he’s complaining or just making a statement of fact. The only thing that matters right now is that he has a finger inside me and with one hand is destroying everything I thought I knew about sex.

“More,” I demand in a throaty voice, greedy for him.

“Oh, don’t worry.” He slowly pushes another finger into me, and it’s all I can do to not scream.

My breathing is shallow, my rib cage barely moving as I struggle for air. Tight knots form in my belly as he finds that special spot inside and simultaneously runs his thumb over my clit over and over again. Every cell in my body vibrates, waiting and hoping…

If all this ends in another of those soft pops of tension I’ve experienced before, I think I’ll cry.

His heated gaze is mesmerizing. I can’t seem to look away, even though it’s far too much for my overloaded system. I feel like I’m on a roller coaster that’s slowly inching toward the peak…

Curling the fingers inside me, he wraps his mouth around a nipple, dress and all, and sucks hard. The silken fabric rubs against my tender breast, and his teeth clamp hard enough to send a sharp sting through my body, soon followed by the soothing feel of his tongue. The pain pushes me over the edge, and I go into free fall. Molten pleasure cascades over me; it’s like plunging into a volcano of euphoria. Blackness hovers over me, but I can’t muster an ounce of worry as I fall apart in Elliot’s arms.

“My god…” I hear myself repeat that like a mantra. I’m shaking all over, uncontrollably, and he gathers me in and rocks me.

I don’t know how long we remain seated like that. Our server doesn’t come by to check up on us, so maybe it isn’t that long.

Elliot licks his fingers leisurely like they’re covered in syrup. His eyes glitter darkly, and I squirm at how openly carnal he is. I’ve never met a man like this before.

When he’s done, he presses a kiss at my sweat-misted temple. His hard erection presses against my backside, but he doesn’t make any move to take his turn.

“Haven’t you ever had an orgasm before?” he asks, his breath feathering against my ear.

My neck seems to shrink, and my skin grows hot. “Of course,” I shoot back.

I steal a quick glance his way. His eyes are too penetrating.

“It’s…” I shake my head. My sexual history isn’t something I want to discuss, even with a man I’m going to marry…and even if he just gave me the most mind-shattering climax ever. “Stop being so smug. I knew you had a big head, but this is too much.” I lay a hand on his cock. Speaking of big heads. It’s huge, much bigger than I realized, and rock hard. “Do you want…?”

“No. I don’t have a condom, and when I come with you for the first time, it’s going to be in your cunt.”

My face flames. I can’t decide which is worse—the fact that he’s being crude or that it’s turning me on.

He pulls the pins out of my hair and arranges it so it hides the wet spot over my breast. Then, putting an arm around my waist, he escorts me around the blue wall, through the other tables of diners, and out of the building, his strength lending extra support to my unsteady legs.