Hale on Earth (Arrangement Series Book 2)

by Francesca Penn

  “Don’t worry about all that. Just make sure you’re fucking her right.”

  “Don’t know if that’s happening. There’s a clause in her prenup that says if we don’t consummate the marriage, we can go our separate ways in six months.”

  I need not tell him it’s a secret to keep his mouth shut. We don’t trust easily. Jagger laughs as if I’m Kevin Hart.

  “Sounds like you will be married forever just like me. Ainslee and I fought at our wedding and we won’t make it six months. I’m sweating thinking about it.” He grabs my shoulders and shakes me a little in his version of an intervention. “You’re smiling before the wedding, you’ve lost the battle before it began.”

  Jagger’s message washes over me like a verbal bucket of cold water. He’s right, I’m softening. If we want our lives back, I must remain firm. We can’t let each other in.

  Again, my mind goes back to my parents. It’s what happens when an angel marries a monster. He broke her until he couldn’t break her anymore. I know why he wants her, Karessa’s gentle nature is much like my mother’s. Karessa - fragile like her favorite flower - will perish under my dad’s control. He’s a weed that will kill her by depriving her of everything essential for her light. Worst. I’ve never given love a chance. I don’t know if his evil lurks within me.

  Pushing away from his hold, I study myself in the mirror once more. My decision takes root and firm in my bones.

  Karessa is better off without me

  * * *

  The wedding march begins, and Karessa appears with her dad. I know it was an internal struggle for her, but she felt if this were her only wedding, she’d want the memory. The tension bounces between them, but Dondi looks at me with gratitude as he mouths his thank you for going through with it. He fades away when I zero in on Karessa. Fuck, she’s beautiful. Her hair, brown with blonde streaks, flows in soft waves around her shoulders. Even tense, her body moves with natural grace. The delicate crystal beading of her sweetheart bodice, amplifies her modest cleavage and carries itself down the front, peaking out of the full tulle shirt. Catching a glimpse of orange, I realize her shoes are my favorite color.

  Most men who marry for the right reasons feel overwhelming love when their bride is approaching. I feel lust. The kind of lust I’m not allowed to feel because there will not be a wedding night or honeymoon for us. This is a contract created by her dad and carried out by us.

  The ceremony is a blur with me being on auto-pilot just repeating what he asked of me. I’m not supposed to feel anything but trapped when I slide her wedding band on, but pride surges in my chest when she lights up with delighted surprise once she realizes I changed her band. Like the rest of the stuff I gave her, her band is a ring of diamond-filled five petal cherry blossoms in rose gold.

  Karessa actually smiles when she slides my matching ring onto my waiting finger. Unlike hers, mine has the flower pattern engraved inside the ring, making it only visible if I’m not wearing it. It’s not supposed to feel this easy. Maybe it’s the loophole in the prenup, but I don’t feel the suffocation I’d expected.

  “You may kiss the bride.” Everyone stills at the announcement.

  Since Jagger and Ainslee were the last two to get married, everyone is on the edge of their seats with their cameras ready to see what Karessa and I will do. She looks at me expectantly, but Jagger’s warning still rings in my head.

  Will kissing her make me want more?

  Karessa cheeks color with the embarrassment my hesitation caused and I can feel her hand slipping out of mine. Part of me thinks it’s best until I catch Elmer’s predatory gleam as he folds his arms smugly. He still thinks he has a chance to steal her from me. Tightening my grip on her hand, I pull her against my chest. Her surprise leaves her lush lips agape, giving me the advantage. Cupping her cheek, I claim her mouth. Her bouquet bounces off my shoe once I deepen the kiss by sweeping my tongue inside. Esme acts fast and snatches the bouquet off the ground. Karessa’s now free hand digs into my bicep as she holds on to me.

  Our guests cheer and catcall. I’m not thinking about them. This kiss is for me, and I greedily take it in, drinking from my forbidden taste because. This just might be our first and last kiss. Karessa’s groan when my tongue sweeps across hers is enough for me to pull away. The fog clears and I remember at least one hundred people are watching. Good for her. If we were anywhere else, I would have already broken the six-month rule.

  “I fucking knew it,” Jagger whispers, but it’s loud enough for the officiator to give him a side eye.

  Lacing my fingers through hers, I pull her with me towards the door. More cheers erupt when we’re announced as Mr. and Mrs. Oran Hale. I all but wink at my father on the way out the door. We forgo the private moment alone as she leads me through the reception area then outside to take wedding pictures. We did every normal combination. Karessa and me. The wedding party: Karessa, Esme, Jagger, and me. Her family, my family (I kept my dad next to me), and both families. I didn’t smile in many to keep my cheeks from hurting.

  This time, I notice the color theme of the reception and wonder what is her deal with orange? Breaking tradition, we go to the middle of the dance floor for our first dance. I pull her soft body close to mine and feel low level confusion when I notice we’re dancing to a woman’s sultry yet sad rendition of Chris Isaac’s Wicked Game.

  The sorrowful song is such an odd choice for a wedding, but that’s the state of our union. Two people forced into each other’s arms against their will. Gifts won’t change that. As the song goes, the further she sinks into her depression. I don’t have to see her face to know. I feel it. Her body isn’t erect and poised. She’s not trying to do any formal form of the dance. Instead, her hands squeeze the crook of my elbows and her body is melded to mine, her head on my chest as we sway to the music.

  I maintain a straight face, but the song hurts. It tugs at my emotions in ways it shouldn’t. She’s working herself into places inside me I don’t want her to be. This is a wicked game. I’m mad she’s the way she is, easy. Why couldn’t I get a spoiled brat easy to hate?

  I ignore the crowd and the flashes of light as professionals and amateurs take all the photos they can manage.

  I need a moment. Karessa needs a moment. We need a moment. Locking my fingers with hers, I lead her away from the reception and crowd and into our private room. Once the door closes, some oxygen returns to my chest. Leaning against the closed door, I feel like I can breathe again.

  Until Karessa attacks my lips with hers.

  Chapter 10

  Karessa

  I stopped thinking and let instinct override my objections. Oran’s surprise has him freezing with his hands pressing on the door. I’m awash with conflicting emotions and need to know what’s real. Our wedding kiss was everything I’ve ever wanted from a kiss and more. I need to know if it’s him or if it was the rush of the moment. Grabbing his bow tie, I pull him closer to deepen the kiss. As a firm believer of the man doing the pursuing, I’m usually not so bold, but he’s awakened something within me I didn’t know existed.

  Oran is still stunned and just when I’m about to write it off as a fluke, he grabs me with the same possessive touch he had earlier. He growls low as he grabs the back of my head and gives me what I crave. Rubbing my body on him, I’m suddenly mad at my decision to have a beautiful layered dress. I take off and toss the tulle overlay, but my dress is still a jeweled floor-length masterpiece. Unable to feel his hand grazing my breasts or my ass, I pull away frustrated with the damn thing. I want to climb him.

  Chuckling, Oran puts more distance between us.

  “Trapped by your dress? It’s okay. We’re not having sex, anyway.”

  I balk at his words as he studies the suit I have laid out for him. “What do you mean?”

  He peeks at me for a second then picks up the tie I picked out for him and rubs his thumb across the bronze orange material. That thumb is supposed to be on me.

  “Our marriage is in name only.
You know we’re not an actual couple.”

  I clench and unclench my fists to regain my composure. We have a ballroom full of people waiting for us. I can’t go ape shit right now.

  “We need to change,” I announce, turning my back to him. “Undo my buttons, husband.”

  I feel his hesitation, then he brushes my hair over my shoulder. Even that simple touch has my skin tingling. He can’t be serious about no sex. Can he?

  “Where’s your bra,” he whispers.

  “Over there with the dress I’m about to change into for the reception. This dress didn’t allow it.” I hold up my arms. “Push it all the way down so I can step out.”

  Oran’s strangled moan when he reveals my Brazilian-cut underwear and garter belt, makes my clit throb. He’s still on his knees when I feel his teeth pierce my left ass cheek. I hum my approval, my body wants more. Stepping out of the pile of material, I swivel on my suede orange Jimmy Choo pumps, bringing the part of me I’d love his mouth to explore in front of his face. Looking down at the still kneeling Oran, I give into the hope he’s changed his mind.

  “There are other parts of me that would like to be bitten.”

  The longing in his charcoal orbs drowns me in lust and confusion. If he wants it, it’s his to take. My hair covers my breasts from his view. It’s one of the few times that I’m happy they’re on the smaller side. I can feel his desire to see them, but I won’t let him. We can suffer together.

  Oran inhales deeply to breathe in my scent then rests his forehead on my bare belly.

  “Cut it out, please.”

  That almost sounds like a plea, but I’m too hot to care about his feelings. He doesn’t care about mine. It’s my turn to test boundaries. Slipping my fingers in his black silky waves, I rest a thigh on his shoulder, and pull his hair.

  “Eat me, Oran. Show me what you can do.”

  We’re locked in one of the hottest stare downs I’ve ever had. The stakes are high. I’ve never wanted to win so badly in my life.

  Someone knocks on the door, but it’s not enough to kill the eye contact.

  “Go away,” we both yell, not caring who is there.

  Oran nips my inner thigh but quickly rises and I find myself slammed against the wall with his body trapping me. Our kiss is desperate and starved; I’d happily blow off the rest for more of this. His small bites and rough touch has me alive in ways I’ve never felt. I claw at his clothes until his jacket hits the floor.

  “You don’t want to play dirty with me, Trophy,” he threatens between kisses. “I’m better at it.”

  “Get dirty then, Hell. Don’t hold back.” I wrap my leg around his waist and circle my arms around his neck. “I want to climb you.”

  He pinches my nipple as he licks the hollow of my neck. “You even make fucking sound proper.”

  “What-”

  The next knock is more aggressive. The pounding differs from the first visitor. His tone belies the way he’d just knocked.

  “Karessa, darling. Hurry, some of us are waiting to dance with the bride.”

  Somehow it creeps me out and Oran scowls. “One minute, Mr. Hale. I’m changing.”

  “No need to call me that, you can call me, daddy. Do you need help?”

  What the fuck?

  Oran puts me down, and I don’t protest. It’s like we are doused with ice-cold water, anyway.

  “I’m more than capable of taking care of my wife!” Oran growls at the door but Elmer doesn’t respond.

  After slipping on my bra, I take my time shimmying out of the garter belt and rolling off each thigh high. I pull on my dress. Oran zips it without me asking and helps me slide into my spiky glass Louboutins.

  “Wait while I change,” he tells me as he strips. I’d be watching and licking my lips if the mood wasn’t killed. Our vibe is off and we’re back in that weird place. “What’s with all the orange?” he asks me.

  “It’s your favorite color, It might as well be the accent color of the wedding.”

  He stops buttoning his shirt. “But you also wear a lot of orange.”

  I shrug like it’s no big deal and study my manicure. “I didn’t realize I did, but looks good with my skin tone.”

  He nods thoughtfully as he adjusts his burnt orange tie.

  “And my clothing sizes?” He volleys with his arms out as he does a slow spin, showing me how perfectly his navy suit with the orange tie and handkerchief fits.

  “You left me at your house for three weeks with nothing to do and a closet filled with your clothes.”

  “Fair enough,” he concedes then swings the door open. “After you, Mrs. Hale.”

  Chapter 11

  Oran

  She almost got me. I almost threw out every resolution I made and consummated our marriage before we’d even left the venue. I’m chewing my food at the bride and groom’s table, but I don’t taste shit. Karessa hand is halfway up my thigh and the wedding guest would get a show if it weren’t for the tablecloths.

  This is torture. We’re coordinating and I don’t mind. She’s wearing a floor-length burnt orange dress with cape sleeves and a split that shows off her sexy thigh. Karessa looks elegant yet delicious as fuck. I shift in my chair when her fingertips brush my hardening dick. Discreetly grabbing her hand, I push it away. I don’t know when or how, but apparently I’ve activated freak mode.

  This will be a long six months.

  My dad catches my eye as he stares at Karessa over the rim of his drink. He’s at the table with the other Founder families and they all talk around him. There’s a bunch of corruption and politics at that table, but they still don’t fuck with him unless they must. They’re not scared of him, they just know he’s a snake oil salesman who doesn’t believe in any types of codes or honor amongst thieves. He’ll double cross you without batting a lash. If he were to leave or die, I’d take his place at the table. You know you’re slimy when the originals rather deal with your child.

  Like right now, he doesn’t respect me enough to not lust over my wife at my wedding. The very wife I had to marry to protect her from him. I grunt when her full hand presses against my dick. My vexation with my dad has me removing her hand with more force than necessary. Leaning over, I whisper for her to knock it off.

  “It’s not happening, Trophy. I may have had a lapse of judgement in the room, but that’s not happening again. No wedding night. No sex. In name only.”

  She bites the lip I long to suck back into my mouth, but I’m doing my best to set her free. When we make it through, she can be her own woman and marry for the right reasons. I won’t have to lock her in as a Hale forever. I know she wants to say something, but she’s hard-wired not to make a scene.

  The announcement we’re about to cut the cake kills all conversation possibilities. We fake it for the camera and cut the first piece. The rest is cut and distributed by the caterers. People spread out once the dance floor opens. We cancelled the parent dances so I wouldn’t have to kill my dad at the wedding and skipped to the full party.

  John Legend’s Save Room blasts in the hall and as I cross the floor to finish my conversation with Karessa, Esme yells that it’s her song and grabs me.

  “Dance with me, brother-in-law.”

  Shrugging, I spin her and begin dancing with her, my eyes are still tracking Karessa. My cousin Caerwyn Hale, the nicest Hale ever born, grabs her for a dance. Relaxing, I give Esme my attention. The way her eyes shine, it’s clear she wakes up full of mischief.

  “It’s funny the way the universe works, don’t you think.”

  “Sure,” I agree, not knowing where she’s going with this.

  “You go from being her super crush who doesn’t know she exists to marrying her.”

  “Her what?” I ask. There’s no way I heard her clearly.

  “Her super crush. Like, she covered every single notebook she owned in ‘Karessa Hale’ and now she is Karessa Hale.”’

  Esme confession rocks me to the core. She is right; I didn’t know Kare
ssa existed. I knew the LeClaires had daughters, but they were all too young for my attention. At five years older than Karessa, I was on my way to college by the time her hormones were kicking.

  “Don’t look so worried, big brother. It didn’t last long. You killed all her hope when you pushed her in your pool.”

  I have a vague memory of moving a girl away from me and her falling in the pool. I remember I wanted to help her, but my psychopathic ex was watching and waiting for her next victim. Had I shown anybody any special attention, she would have stalked and bullied her. While I feel bad that I’d done that to Karessa, I’m not sorry. Krisha would’ve eaten her alive.

  “That was her? I used to wonder who fell in my pool.”

  “I’ll let it slide as you being an asshole teenager. We don’t have any brothers and I know I’m the younger sister, but it’s my duty to tell you that if you hurt my sister, I’ll make Lorena Bobbitt look like a pussycat.”

  My balls hurt from the threat.

  “Noted.”

  Her face swaps from her mean face back to her usual sunny disposition.

  “Good. Behave. You’re too gorgeous to get fucked up.”

  I can’t stop the laugh that escapes. I wonder if LeClaire knows that his daughter is a mini-gangster.

  Faster music, a Pitbull song to be exact, ends our sibling-in-law chat and I head over to where Jagger is sitting pretending that he’s not watching his wife. It’s time to get him back.

  * * *

  “Where’s your wife?”

  Jagger’s question bothers me as I retrace my steps, checking every room I can find. I’m not concerned about her being kidnapped since I still have Elmer in my sights, but it makes no sense that she’d wander off without telling anyone goodbye. After my second round in the ballroom. I hear a strangled moan from a dark nook. I don’t have to do much investigating to know my asshole friend is getting pussy at my wedding. I’m a little jealous but happy that he’s being honest with himself. There’s no out for them, so they may as well move on to being a real married couple.