- Chapter Six -

Nix

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Clutching my chest, I stood by the sink long after Abell had left. Each breath was a struggle, I was hyperventilating. In my mind, one sentence played over and over.

I almost kissed him again.

I'd come so close! What was I thinking? Why was I so weak? Letting Abell drive me home was a mistake, but letting him inside was a damn catastrophe. He'd been a walking beacon of sex. His blue eyes had promised me perverse, delicious things.

And his cock, rubbing up against my thigh...

Turning around, I twisted the sink knobs. In desperation to escape this madness, I shoved my head right into the cold flowing water. “Ah!” I gasped, whipping my hair back, droplets flying around my apartment.

I was soaked, but my brain was finally free.

“I can't sleep with him,” I said to the empty room. “Never again. I just can't.” But how was I going to save my company? Or was I going to just give it all up?

He brought a ring with him.

Abell wasn't playing around. He'd said he meant to marry me, to use me to keep his money, and he was serious. I was nothing to him, but... he was nothing to me. A guy like him was bad news.

All he wants from me is sex. The visual that brought—his muscles flexing, his cock ruddy with desire—had me shivering. All I want is...

What?

My company, I told myself. I can't lose that. But marrying Abell and being forced to give his father a grandkid, that was too much.

The memory of sleeping with Abell had me recalling the condoms spilling from his bedside table. I couldn't imagine needing so many.

If I marry him, I won't be seeing condoms.

Abell would fuck me, filling me with cum. That taboo realization had my heart throbbing almost as much as my clit. Stop it! You can't sleep with him!

But I did have to marry him. It was the only way to keep everyone happy.

Could we both get what we wanted without compromising?

If I talk to Abell, tell him I'll marry him as long as we never consummate it... Could that work?

I walked towards my bathroom, pulling my clothes off as I went.

We could lie.

Gripping the doorway, I grinned. It'd be easy enough. Get married, then say we're 'trying' to get pregnant, but it isn't working. That happened to people all the time! How could we be blamed if it didn't work out? Surely, the contract wouldn't be broken because of a 'biological' issue?

Feeling like a genius, I turned my shower on until the room billowed with steam. I hurried to wash up, eager to remove the day-old sweat. I know what I have to do. The plan I had gave me a sense of control.

After almost giving in to Abell like I had...

I needed all the control I could get.

****

When my alarm went off the next morning, I was ready for it.

Jumping out of bed, I stretched my arms wide, yawning. Through the white curtains of my bedroom window, the sun was a welcome beacon.

Yesterday, I'd awoken in a stranger's bed.

That had been the start of the worst day of my life.

But today, I thought, beginning my precise morning routine, Today, things will be different.

I wasn't excited about my plan, but it was a plan. That counted for something.

Having a way to make this mess result in some resemblance to the future I'd meticulously worked towards gave me a bit of strength.

In my mirror, I brushed my hair until it shined. I'd always struggled with frizz, so I made sure to take extra time to get every strand in place. When I was finished, I'd tied my hair back in my typical bun; shiny and immaculate.

I'd laid new clothes out last night. That way, they wouldn't get wrinkled. Even so, I ironed them for the second time. When I was done, they were stiff enough to cut a muffin in two.

Speaking of which.

Dressing carefully, I grabbed myself a cup of coffee from my pre-programmed machine, and then a cranberry muffin from the counter. I loved sweets, but thanks to my 'attentive' (as she called it) mother, I'd developed an odd relationship with them.

She'd tried to ban them from my life. In subtle retaliation, I indulged in the treats whenever I could.

Who could blame me?

Desserts are fucking delicious.

Washing my hands, I did a final check in the mirror. Yesterday, my parents had seen me in a state I never wanted to repeat. Being prim, proper, it reminded me that I was a Halloway.

I had power, I had money, and I'd do what I had to in order to keep it.

But I'm not like him, I told myself firmly. Abell wanted everything for himself. I wanted to be CEO not just for me, but for Gram, too. I planned to keep my promise to him, to make his life better.

That was what made me less selfish than Abell.

I clung to that fact fiercely.

Shoving into my jacket, I hurried out the door. I knew the exact time I had to be at the metro, and no way I was missing it. Today, I'd show my parents what I was made of.

I was a Halloway.

And we always achieved what we worked for.

****

My heels chopped along the sidewalk as I exited the subway. I was striding, head held high—and then higher—when I spotted Halloway Inc.

The building, my building, stood tall in the middle of the city. The red brick was brighter than the other structures surrounding it, a fact I was always delighted by. This was a company to be proud of.

It'll be mine. Clenching my fist, I exhaled. The sight of the building had renewed my determination.

Crossing the street, I shuffled through the automatic doors. The front desk was a half-moon of white wood, the man behind it busy talking on the phone. I knew his name was Conroy, I made it a point to try and learn the names of every employee.

I waved at him as he caught my eye. His pleasant smile was my reward.

Turning the corner, I power-walked down the hall, ready to enter my mother's office.

But I didn't need to go that far.

She was standing right in the hall.

My heart stuttered, confronted by the woman who had controlled me my whole life. I'd never known someone so intimidating. Don't be scared, just tell her what you're going to do!

Forcing my head higher, I cleared my throat. “Mom.”

Turning, she stopped staring at her phone. She was rarely without the thing, always typing away or talking to someone. “Nichole,” she said, lifting an eyebrow. “Good to see you're here on time today.”

Crinkling my mouth, I bit back the comment I wanted to let fly. Focus. “Mom, listen. I need to talk to you about yesterday.”

Her chest flared with her deep breath. “Yes. I imagine you do. Go on, are you here to tell me how horrible I am again?”

The muscles along my neck and shoulders turned to steel. It was a wonder I could talk at all. Faced with her doubt, I wanted to show her she was wrong. She clearly thought I was a coward, or worse, a selfish brat.

But I wasn't.

I wouldn't be.

“I decided to agree to the marriage,” I said flatly.

I'd hoped for her to be shocked. It would have been delicious to see that expression on her puckered face. I wasn't that lucky today, though. Fuck, was I ever lucky?

Tilting her head, she stared down her nose at me. “You're serious, aren't you? You're really going to do this?”

The smile I offered her was sour. “What choice do I have? Marrying Abell Birch is the only way to keep the company in our name, and for me to become CEO like I'm meant to be. I'm not losing that.”

I've given up so much. What's a little more?

She considered me for a long while. I wondered what she saw, what she thought about my decision. Her face was a polished mask, and it never flinched, not even when she pulled a piece of paper from her purse and handed it to me. “You'll need this.”

I blinked at it. “What is it?”

“Everything that needs to get done before the wedding.”

The piece of paper was a detailed schedule. Food tasting for the reception, flowers for the ceremony... this was the outline for my own misery. I was being forced to wrap myself up in a pretty bow to be thrown to the wolves—or wolf.

One with frosty eyes and a killer body.

Reading the list, I shook my head in mild disgust. “You have appointments already lined up. You assumed I'd say yes to this blackmail.”

“I took precaution. It's good to be prepared.”

“Right,” I said, tapping the spot that mentioned Macy's Bridal store. “It's important to prepare your daughter for her funeral gown.”

“It's called a wedding dress. Do you always have to be so dramatic, Nichole?” Ignoring my glare, she handed me a small green envelope.

Poking the sharp corner, I squinted at the gold seal and elegant writing that spelled my name. “Don't tell me this is a sample wedding invitation, I'm not inviting anyone to this mess.”

Her mouth scrunched, like she'd eaten a handful of lemon rinds. “It's an invitation to the Birch's Christmas party. It's this weekend, you're going.”

“You expect me to put on a cocktail dress and make nice with the guy who's selling me to his son?”

My mother turned away, phone sticking to her ear as she avoided my attempt to burn a hole through her skull with my brain. “Speaking of dresses, don't you dare miss that wedding dress appointment next week. Find something that fits. You don't have much time to slim down, so your options will be limited.”

Narrowing my eyes at her, I shoved the list and invitation into my purse. “Guess I'll just be stuck with whatever they can dig out from the back, then. Something that fits my apparently gigantic ass.”

When I turned away, I exaggerated my hips as I walked around the hallway corner. It was a ridiculous strut, over the top and straight out of some strip club dance routine. I wanted her to maybe get the sense that she was being horrible.

She hadn't yet, but hey, there was still time.

Why is she never satisfied with me! This feeling wasn't new, but it still stung.

As a kid, my mother used to make me weigh myself every morning and night. If the number deviated greatly, she'd deny me dinner. I'd often go to bed hungry.

Yeah. She was a real piece of work.

“Nice walk,” a deep voice said.

Turning, I gawked at Abell. He was lounging by the water cooler, crumpling a paper cup. His stare said he appreciated the way I'd been swaying around like an animal in heat.

Stuttering, I said, “I—that—you don't understand.”

“No need to defend yourself. I wasn't complaining.”

Red from head to toe, I choked the strap of my purse. “Why are you here?”

Abell rocked forward, coming my way. Suddenly he pulled up short, standing back further than usual. His smile wavered, eyes taking me in again.

What the hell is wrong with him? Do I smell bad?

He gathered himself, teeth glinting brightly. “I'm here to run into you.”

“I actually was hoping to see you, too,” I said.

He gave me a look that implied he was more than happy to hear that. “You were angry with me last time we spoke, or was that just your way of flirting?”

Instead of fighting with him, I motioned for Abell to follow me. Ducking into an empty hall, I made sure we were alone before rounding on him. “We need to talk about this marriage situation.”

His chuckle slid over my heart, caressing it. “You already know where I stand, Sugar.”

A tiny tremble took hold in my knees. Stay on target. “I've moved past the denial stage of this. Your father has my company by the throat, and I've worked too hard to lose everything. Marrying you is the last thing I want to do, but I'm open to making it work.”

Abell had turned to stone, doubt contorting in his face. “You are?”

Nodding, I held up a hand. “You want your money, I want my company. I just have one condition.”

“Go on.”

Lowering my voice, I bit off the words. “No. Sex. Ever.”

His forehead crinkled dramatically. “In general?”

“Between us!” I hissed, clenching my fists. “It'll be a sham marriage, get it? We'll do it on paper, but nothing else. It's the only way I'll agree to it.”

“Didn't my father also demand I knock you up? Do you have a sham baby in your pocket, too?”

My throat went dry as old toast. “We'll tell him we're trying, when we aren't.”

Scratching at his cheek, he asked, “What if I say no to your one condition?”

“Jeez,” I laughed, “Do you  want to sleep with me again that badly?”

He smiled, saying plenty with just his eyes.

Blushing furiously, I mumbled, “This is the only way I'll go along. I'm not going to subject myself to becoming someone's whore. I'd give the company up before that.”

“Ouch.” Touching his hand over his heart, he sighed. “You make it sound like sleeping with me is a punishment.”

“Just tell me you agree to my terms.”

Abell looked down his nose at me. He was quiet, making me wonder what was going on behind his stoniness. Finally, he gave a tiny shrug. “When you beg me to fuck you, do I still have to resist?”

My mouth fell open. “I'd never beg you to fuck me.”

“You will.” His smirk could cut diamonds. “You definitely will. And when you do, my stipulation is that... I won't hold back.”

A flutter crept through my body, building a home between my thighs. I squeezed them, ignoring how good the pressure felt. “You've got me all wrong. I'm not that desperate.”

He gave me a long, intense look.

Breaking away, I said, “I already told my mother I was going along with the marriage.”

Abell tilted his head, as if viewing me in a new light. “She'll let my father know, I imagine. Guess I don't have to spill the good news to him.”

“Then we're done here.” Yanking out the list my mother made, I confirmed the time slots. That eager, cautious woman... she'd actually set up a meeting with a florist today. “I have an appointment to get to, see you later.”

He pushed off the wall. “I'll come along.”

Stumbling, I shot him a confused stare. “Why? It's just looking at flowers.”

He hunched closer to me, I could hear him inhale. “Who knows, you might need a second pair of hands.”

It took all of my strength to stop staring at his mouth. Grabbing my phone, I called for a private car. “I don't have the time to argue with you.” I need air, I need it now!

Marching out the front of the building, I shielded my eyes from the sun. In mere minutes, a shiny black car pulled up against the curb. In my rush to escape Abell and all he represented, I opened the door, practically jumping inside. Phew, I thought in relief.

I'd just buckled myself in when Abell slid into the backseat across from me. I stared at him in disbelief. Grinning, he clicked his seat belt. “Are you going to shove me out of the car?”

My driver twisted around, offering me a look that said he didn't know what to do, but would listen to my instructions.

I shut my eyes tight. “I'll wait until we're in the middle of moving traffic before I kick you out.”

Abell's laugh was low, scratchy—real. It was the first hint of something genuine beneath his surface, and it threw me for a loop. “You're staring at me,” he said.

“Sorry.” I focused on anything else but the man sitting beside me. Don't get fooled by him. He's a player, that's all.

The driver turned us onto Main street, taking us quickly towards the flower shop. It was a tiny building shoved onto a corner across from the mall, the front of it covered in painted vines and actual flowers.

I slid from the car so fast that I banged my forehead on the edge of the roof. “Ow!” Cupping the tender spot, I winced.

“You alright?” Abell asked, hurrying to my side.

“Yeah. I just banged it, nothing major.” Lifting my eyes, I stood still as an ancient tree. Abell was leaning over me, his fingers pressing against my skin next to my injury.

The concern in his stare left me baffled. His magnetic pull demanded I not look away. Brushing my hair back, he said, “Looks like you'll have a small bump. Does it hurt?”

The thumping of my heart was so loud, it blocked the rush of passing traffic. I struggled to make sense of what was happening. Abell was being so sweet, I was spiraling into a confused bubble.

Just answer him!

I said, “Um. No, it's okay. Just a little sore.”

His arm fell, leaving me tingling where he'd touched. “It looks kind of red. Well, all of you looks red right now, actually.”

Coughing, I spun around and walked stiffly into the shop. “L—let's get going!” Fuck, I fell apart just then! But his caring vibes had been too much for me. Was he playing with me, pretending to be concerned?

The air was humid inside the store. Water spritzed from hanging pipes, plants glowing in bright greens, reds, and so much more. “Hello,” I said, spotting a woman behind a tiny counter. “I need to pick out flowers for... a wedding.”

Saying it out loud had me fidgeting.

“Ah,” she said, rounding the counter and approaching me. “Are you the lucky bride?”

Pursing my lips, I peeked at Abell. “Lucky isn't the right word.”

The clerk was oblivious to my sarcasm. “Well, look around and help yourself. You'll find we have flowers perfect for any event.”

I wondered what kind of flowers you picked for an arranged marriage.

Something morbid, I thought with a smile. Did they have black roses? I'd have to look.

Abell, who'd been rather quiet, reached out to cradle a hanging vine. “I didn't realize we were picking flowers for our wedding.”

“My mother insisted I get it done quickly,” I mumbled. “Apparently, a month to get ready isn't much. Who would have thought.”

He grinned, fingering the long vine so it coiled around his hand. “Cheer up, how can picking out flowers be depressing?”

I gave him a flat look. “Flowers aren't my thing. Do you have some tricks to make it fun?”

“Oh, I have tricks.” He tugged the leaves, then stroked them obscenely. “I don't think the florist would appreciate me using them on you.”

I turned away before he could get a reaction out of me. “I'm ignoring that comment.” Unzipping my coat because of the humidity, I moved down an aisle. “Help me find something... weddingy, I guess. I could just pick white.”

Abell followed me, his hands spreading his jacket wide, flapping it. “White would be boring. You want something more vibrant, ideally to match the dresses of your bridesmaids.”

I stumbled, staring back at him. “First, I won't have any bridesmaids. Second, I didn't peg you for a guy who knew about complimentary colors.”

He placed his palm to his chest, making a face. “Art runs in my blood, give me some credit.”

“I met your father, I wouldn't call him 'artsy.'”

Abell's fingers clenched just slightly, but I caught it. “It's on my mother's side.”

The edges of his usual smile had cracked. Had I touched something sensitive? Eager to push this awkward tension away, I clapped my hands. “Alright, Art-Master, what flowers would look best?”

“For the wedding? Not a clue. But this...” Abell leaned close to a blue tulip, tapping it. “This would look gorgeous in your red hair. You have a fire in you, a cool color like this would enhance it.”

His comment lacked the crassness he'd been indulging in since we'd first met. Seeing him like that, bending close to a fragile flower, eyes warm and welcoming...

Why is my heart beating so fast?

He pulled on one of the most wolfish grins ever. Like an animal, he stalked forward, his hand dropping away from the tulip. He whispered, “There it is, in your eyes, the fire I was talking about.”

On reflex I stepped backwards, bumping the nearby table. The sound of water sloshing made us both stop in our tracks. In slow motion, I watched a bucket topple over the edge, right towards Abell.

He tried to jump back, but he wasn't ready; the water spilled across the front of his shirt. “Shit!” he shouted.

“Oh no!” Cringing, I let my hands bob in the air, too unsure what to do with them. “I'm so sorry! I didn't even see that bucket!”

He stretched his arms, pulling the soaked cloth across his chest. The water had turned his shirt transparent, dark ink and hard muscles peeking through. The perfection of his body among all the beautiful flowers was like some high-fashion modeling ad.

Catching my breath, I stared straight at his stomach, following the dip of his abdominals into the top of his jeans. The edge of his briefs were visible, tattoos vanishing beneath the elastic band.

I knew exactly what it looked like under there.

Why the hell did I want to see it again?

“Hey,” he chuckled. “My eyes are up here.”

Flushing, I looked around frantically for a towel. “Uh, let me find something to dry you off with.”

“It's fine. You didn't get my jacket, just the shirt.” He shrugged out of the jacket, then tugged the soaked shirt over his head, exposing his bare skin. Ever so casually, he nodded towards the front of the store. “I'll just zip it over me so I can walk out of here. Unless you prefer this look?”

I was gawking again, but I didn't need him to point it out. Stumbling on my tongue, I said, “Sure. I mean, um, your jacket. Right. It should be fine!” Get it together! But how could I? Abell was impossibly sexy, and he was within touching distance.

If I reached out, I could run my palm right down his chest. Would it be warm, or cool from the water?

He stepped close to me, and the floral cloud was broken by the pine and maple scent that came off of him. “Did you want something, Nix? Something from me?”

My heart floated up, filling my throat. “No,” I managed to croak. “Nothing.”

The corner of his mouth moved upwards. “The future owner of Halloway Inc shouldn't be such a liar. It's bad for business.” Abell's hand cupped my cheek, and where he touched, heat bloomed.

In my ears, the drums pounded. My cells were buzzing, my body eager to climb onto his. I wanted to rub against him, I knew he'd be hard and soft all at once.

Kiss him, my body demanded. It'd be so easy; he was right there, inches away, he...

“Excuse me!” The florist shouted, rounding the corner. “Why is he stripping?”

Retreating so fast I bumped the table again, I stared at the woman with my eyes bugging out. I knew I looked guilty—I felt guilty! What was I doing? What had I almost done?

My mouth fell open. “He isn't stripping!”

Abell grinned, reaching down to brush the button of his jeans. “I could, if you two want.”

I wished I could find a big crack in the ground and crawl into it. Maybe I'd grow back as a weed! Weeds couldn't be humiliated!

The florist crossed her arms, her face a puckered knot. “I think you should tell me what flowers you want. Then you should leave.”

“I'm so sorry,” I stammered, shooting a fierce glare at Abell. “I'll keep him on a leash next time.”

His smile went ear to ear, boyish and amused.

He's trying to be charming. Flicking my eyes up and down his exposed tattoos, I shivered as if I was the one covered in icy water. Fuck. He IS charming. Abell was inching his way past the barrier I'd set up in my heart.

And I hated it. All of it.

You should know better. Don't be so naive! I had to be strong, cold, disconnected.

Why did he have to make it so hard?

“Miss,” the florist snapped.

“Oh.” Startling, I scanned the rows of flowers all around us. “Right, sorry. The ones I want are...” Different petals flew through my vision; every shape, every color, for any occasion. I knew nothing about weddings, how did I narrow down my choices?

Something bright caught my eye.

That's it. That's the one.

Abell's words had influenced me. Last time that had happened, we'd nearly kissed in my kitchen. He's dangerous, I reminded myself. He's using you!

Even knowing all of that, my heart still went fuzzy when I heard Abell inhale sharply.

He'd realized which flower I was picking.

Reaching out, I brushed the shiny green stem. “Here,” I whispered. “This one.”

The blue tulip was cool to the touch.