Be My Forever: A BWWM Romance (Make It Marriage Book 2)

by Nia Arthurs

“It’s too late. The clients have already been called and informed. It’s just a matter of arranging their schedules so they can meet.”

  I don’t know whether to scream at her or throw something.

  Two minutes ago, my world had seemed so bright.

  Now?

  “I told you I wanted to arrange it myself.”

  “You did. Charisma was your suggestion.”

  I glare at her. “That’s not what I meant.”

  “I know what you meant.”

  “So why did you—?”

  “Because you wouldn’t have,” she says quietly.

  I suck in a deep breath. Partly because she’s right and partly because I need a moment to corral my anger.

  I’m seconds away from body-slamming my best friend.

  “I saw the way you were looking at him yesterday.”

  I laugh bitterly. “You can’t be serious.”

  “It was all over your face, Venus. You have a giant crush, but it’s not reciprocated.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “So Troy likes you back?” She wrings her hands and looks genuinely worried.

  “Not…” I wince. “Not necessarily.”

  “Have you talked to him?”

  “No.”

  “Why not? You’ve never been afraid to go after what you want.”

  I ball my fingers into fists. “He’s my brother’s best friend. It’s complicated.”

  “That’s not enough to keep you from hesitating.” She shakes her head. “You’ve tried something, haven’t you?”

  I think of my eighteenth birthday. All the hints I dropped leading up to then.

  Kayla sighs. “I get that he’s hot, but is he worth throwing away all that you’ve worked for?”

  “I don’t know,” I snap. “But it was my choice to make.”

  “Venus—”

  “Get out of my office, Kayla.”

  “I only did it to help you.”

  “I know. I…” I squeeze my eyes closed. “Please, just leave. I can’t look at you right now.”

  She drops her head. Stares at her shoes. “I don’t understand you.”

  I fling my hands down. “What?”

  “You.” She glances up. Stares me in the eyes. “You call me your best friend, but I don’t know you. I don’t know what makes you tick or laugh or cry. You’re always in my business, but you hold me at arms-length. You tell stupid jokes and you act like nothing in the world matters, but I know that’s not the real you. You don’t trust me with that version. ”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You’ve never let me in, Venus. You don’t let anyone in.” She inhales deeply. “You’re right. What I did was… questionable. I shouldn’t have gone behind your back, but I did because I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

  “Troy would never hurt me.”

  “Not intentionally. No.”

  I fold my arms over my chest.

  “Yesterday was the first time I saw you act that… I don’t know, starry-eyed. You let him close. He has power over you. You gave it willingly. And he doesn’t even realize. That’s dangerous. ”

  I say nothing.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

  Silence.

  Kayla sighs, turns and walks slowly out.

  The door shuts.

  I rake my fingers through my hair and kick my legs.

  My head throbs.

  Just like that, it’s all complicated again.

  But this morning…

  Me and Troy.

  I hesitate. Chew on a fingernail.

  Was there a ‘me and Troy’ this morning?

  Did I just make it all up in my head?

  He didn’t want to be matched way before I moved in.

  He was engaged to someone else just a few weeks ago.

  I was the one who pushed the matchmaking angle.

  And I was also the one who interpreted our conversation this morning to mean more than it did.

  All Troy admitted to was being busy. And I heard ‘I like you, Venus. I only want to date you, Venus.’

  Kayla was sneaky and way out of line, but she has a good heart and a good point.

  I’m seeing things I want to see.

  Hearing things I want to hear.

  I’m deluding myself.

  Troy’s got no real feelings for me.

  My phone chirps again.

  I answer. “Troy.”

  “Venus, hey.” There’s a car horn in the background. Sounds like he’s in traffic. “I just got a call from the Make It Marriage office. They found me a match. Is there some mistake?”

  I hesitate.

  Tears crop in my eyes.

  Damn. I want him.

  But he doesn’t want me.

  Nothing I can do will change that.

  “Venus?”

  “It was a mistake.”

  He sighs in relief. “Good. I—”

  “But I’m not going to undo it.”

  There’s a screech of brakes skidding to a stop and then, “What?”

  “I just had a conversation with Kayla.”

  “And?”

  “And I got a lesson in reality.”

  He doesn’t respond.

  I press a hand to my chest, glad he can’t see my face when I mumble, “Can you keep the original agreement?”

  “I…”

  “Go on the date.”

  I squeeze my eyes shut.

  Those words tear my heart right out of my chest.

  Impale me like the impact of a thousand spears.

  This isn’t what I want.

  This is the opposite of what I want.

  Please say no. Insist you won’t. Give me a hint that I’m not alone in my feelings. Let me pretend. Even a crumb will do.

  There’s a long pause.

  I fling silent prayers heavenward.

  Something rustles on the other end.

  Troy’s voice rumbles. “Okay.”

  Twenty

  Troy

  This place is full of artwork. Knock-offs. There’s no way that’s a Tousana original on the wall.

  But it’s the thought that counts.

  Can’t expect a steakhouse to afford premium paintings.

  Besides I’m not here to be picky.

  Candle light flickers. Soft golden lamps throw just enough light to illuminate my date across the table.

  Charisma.

  Cute name. Cute girl.

  But she’s not Venus.

  She’ll never be Venus.

  My fingers tap the table.

  The fork next to my wine-red cloth napkin rattles.

  I still can’t believe I’m here.

  Sitting across from some stranger I got matched with eight hours ago.

  We’re five minutes into our date, but I’m not registering anything.

  I’m thinking about Venus. The determination in her voice when she urged me to go on the date. The knife that lodged in my gut when I agreed.

  Charisma picks up a piece of bread with her dainty fingers. “Troy?”

  I blink.

  Return my attention to her. “Sorry?”

  “I said ‘this is a nice place’.”

  “Oh. Yeah.”

  “Long day?” She chuckles.

  “You can say that.”

  “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have insisted we meet this soon. I just…” She tucks a lock of blonde hair behind her ear, “really wanted to meet you.”

  “Ah.”

  “I can’t believe that Troy Maddox is a member of Make It Marriage and that they’d match you with me…” Her smile brightens her blue eyes. She’s gushing. “This is a dream come true.”

  “I see.”

  “My father’s an art buff. He almost fainted when I told him about this.”

  “Hm.”

  “You’re lucky I talked him down or you’d be dating us both tonight.”

  A missed opportunity.

  Maybe I would have cli
cked more with her dad.

  No.

  That’s unfair.

  There’s nothing wrong with Charisma.

  I’m the one whose head is a mess.

  I force interest into my tone. “Are you close to your dad?”

  “Oh yeah. He’s like my best friend.” She blushes. “But don’t misunderstand. I’m not some Daddy’s girl. There are lots of things about me that my dad doesn’t know.”

  “Like what?”

  She leans down. Far enough that I can see down her dress.

  Nice view.

  I’ll give her that.

  “I don’t kiss and tell.” Her eyes flash. “But I know what I want.”

  Me.

  Charisma wants me.

  My hands in her hair.

  My body pinning her to a wall.

  I press my elbow against the table. Try to drum up some interest in the woman sitting across from me. The woman Venus thinks I have the highest chance of falling in love with.

  She’s pretty. Cheerful, in that I grew up sheltered and adored by my family way.

  I try to imagine Charisma shredding lettuce for fajitas in my kitchen. Going running in the mornings wearing nothing but a sports bra and tiny shorts. Teasing me about the paint on my clothes.

  Try to picture her in my room. Pressing her into my bed. Scrunching that dress high. Unhooking her bra.

  The vision flits through my mind. For a moment.

  Then it’s Venus in my head.

  Her bra in my hands.

  My fingers inching up her skirt.

  Those plump lips stretching in a come here smirk.

  This is a disaster.

  I’m supposed to be looking for ways to connect with Charisma. Thinking of flirty things to say. Picking up on her vibes. Doing all I can to cinch that invite back to her place. Hear her scream my name.

  But that’s the last thing I want to do.

  Still, I try to fake it. “Do you?”

  She laughs. Takes a sip of her wine. Boldness flits through her eyes. “If the rumors are true, you’re a talented man.”

  “Are we still talking about my artwork?”

  She laughs again. “Am I too forward?”

  “Confidence is sexy.”

  “That’s refreshing to hear.”

  “How so?”

  “You’d be surprised how many men are turned off by aggressive women. They prefer the traditional, ‘be seen not heard’ type.” She rolls her eyes. “So old-fashioned.”

  “Old-fashioned has its perks.”

  She giggles. “Let me guess. You stand by your duty to open doors.”

  “And pay on the first date.”

  “So if I wanted to pay tonight…?”

  “Not going to happen.”

  “And the second date?”

  “Is that an invitation?”

  “I’m trying to be coy.” She grins. “Is it working?”

  I clear my throat. We’re getting way ahead of ourselves. I don’t see this going beyond tonight.

  I raise a hand. Grab the waitress’s attention. Gesture to Charisma.

  She orders another glass of wine and a fish platter.

  I order whiskey and steak.

  “An amazing artist. A gentleman.” Charisma sighs contentedly. “I think I might be impressed if you cook too.”

  “You’re already impressed.”

  Her smile widens. “Yeah?”

  “I’m very perceptive.”

  “Not humble though.”

  No. Not so much.

  I meet her gaze. Struggle to find the connection we ‘potentially’ have—something to latch onto.

  There’s a lot on paper.

  She’s hot. Smart. Funny.

  But the only woman on my mind is Venus.

  And that’s foolish.

  Charisma’s right here.

  It’s not like one date is enough to know for sure whether or not we’ll work.

  I sip my whiskey. It’s rich. Perfect.

  Charisma follows my lead. Slips her wine glass between her mouth. Watches me over the rim. Red wine sloshes around the glass. Her throat bobs daintily.

  She sets the glass back on the table. Slips her tongue out. Traces it slowly over her bottom lip and then her top.

  I watch her little show, but it does nothing to get my blood pumping.

  “So…” She thrusts two fingers over the stem of the glass. Twirls it around. Shoots me a we don’t have to stay here for dessert look. “Did you always want to be a painter?”

  “No. I was into basketball.”

  “An athlete?” She does a slow sweep of my body. “You must have gotten all the girls.”

  “More attracted to the letterman jacket than me.”

  “Still,” her eyes fall to the table, “tragically, I would’ve never been on your radar.”

  “A bold woman who pays for the second date? I think I would have seen you around.”

  She laughs. “Is that so?”

  I shrug.

  At the moment, I’m half-checked out of the conversation.

  The date’s failing and it’s my fault.

  But I can’t drum up the energy to try harder.

  I finish my whiskey.

  Run my gaze over her.

  The low-cut neckline of her tight red dress should excite my body.

  But it doesn’t.

  She shoots me a sly look. Her chuckle is flirty but nervous. “What was your move? Under-the-bleachers or the backseat of your truck?” She tilts her head. “No, let me guess, a rigged truth or dare and an empty upstairs bedroom?”

  “I plead the fifth.”

  “No fair.”

  “High school was a while ago.”

  “And now?”

  “You guess.”

  “No games?”

  “None.”

  Her eyes gleam.

  She’s picturing me naked. In her bedroom. In the backseat of my car.

  She wants me.

  I see it all over her face. She’s licking her lips like I’m her next meal.

  That should be enough.

  She’s pretty. Willing to be used.

  I’ve never been one to turn down the invitation of a beautiful woman.

  But now…

  Her leg brushes against mine. Again.

  It’s intentional.

  She’s making her move. Making sure I know she’s available.

  Under ordinary circumstances, I’d touch her back.

  Let the conversation veer to a whisper. Hint at what I’d do to her back at her place.

  But…

  Her touch feels so wrong.

  There’s no way I can go through with it.

  All I want to do is go home.

  Because home… is where Venus is.

  Twenty-One

  Troy

  The woman isn’t here.

  I throw my bathroom door open. Check behind the glass shower.

  My gaze desperately scans the bath.

  Fancy showerhead. Tiled walls.

  No Venus.

  My heart pounds in my chest.

  Where the hell is she?

  I pass her empty bedroom again. Down the stairs. Check the kitchen. The garage.

  The house is dark.

  Silent.

  It’s eleven o’clock.

  I check my phone.

  No messages.

  I dial her number.

  No answer.

  Panic echoes in my head.

  Curses shoot past my lips with every thud of my shoes.

  Did she get kidnapped?

  I left her alone.

  Damn.

  I should have never…

  My head’s about to explode.

  I start to dial the police when I hear a car pull up in the driveway.

  Clinging to hope, I charge the window and push the curtains aside.

  There’s a flashy convertible parked on the street.

  The door opens. A shapely leg slips out of it. That shape
ly leg is followed by another. Short, grey mini-skirt. Sheer tank top plunging ridiculously low. Long, reddish-brown curls tossed to one side of her shoulder.

  She glides down the path.

  Her heels click against pavement.

  I get to the front door and yank it open, catching her just before she inserts her key.

  The sight of her knocks the breath out of me.

  Every thought…

  Every harsh word…

  It shatters.

  There’s Venus, hovering in the dark night and backlit by the silver moon.

  The porch light glimmers over her curls, her eyes, that gorgeous brown skin. She’s dressed to kill.

  But she’s alive.

  She’s safe.

  I let the relief roll over me for a second. Then anger barrels to the forefront.

  “You’re home already?” Her eyes meet mine. A dare. A challenge. Have a problem?

  Hell yeah. “Obviously.”

  “Hm.” She slips past me. Tosses her keys on the table in the foyer.

  Where the hell were you? Who the hell was that in the convertible? Did he touch you the way I want to?

  “I called you.”

  “Yeah?”

  My voice is cutting. “I thought something happened.”

  “It didn’t.”

  I can feel my heart pounding—anger? Something else? “I told you not to leave the house.”

  She moves to the kitchen. Opens the fridge. Pours herself a glass of water. “You don’t own me.”

  She takes a sip.

  This woman…

  I’m about to lose my damn mind.

  “I never said—” I grit my teeth. “It’s for your own safety.”

  Her eyes bounce around. “Last I checked this wasn’t a prison. I can come and go as I please.”

  “We still haven’t found Rita Meeks yet.”

  Venus snorts. “I’m not scared of her.”

  I step forward. “Do you think this is funny?”

  She opens the fridge again. “Is beer all you have?”

  “Venus.”

  “I’m feeling some wine.”

  Why the hell is she acting like this?

  Tamping down on my frustration, I turn away. Open the wine cooler. Pull out a bottle. Offer it.

  She grabs it with a frown. “You want some?”

  I shrug.

  I’m not a wine guy.

  I bought that bottle for her the day after she moved in. A sort of welcome home gift.

  Venus moves to the counter. Opens the bottle.

  The cork wiggles free with a pop.

  She grabs two glasses.

  Pours.