Hale on Earth (Arrangement Series Book 2)

by Francesca Penn

  “Ooh, my leisure. Sounds so fancy. You bitches want a drink?”

  Imala and I laugh at Esme but get back to the issue.

  “No. I didn’t see the point, I was being forced to marry him, regardless.”

  Esme joins us with three cups of daiquiris.

  “Dang it’s only been a week. Is it go time already?” Esme purses her glossy lips. “I need my bat, some acid…Wait. No. I promised to cut off his dick. He’s a big guy. I need a roofie, a knife, and some pliers…”

  Imala rolls her eyes with a snort but otherwise ignores Esme as she reads..

  “What size knife do I need, Karessa?” Esme pries as she plots.

  “No clue. Haven’t seen it,” I admit.

  Both sets of eyes stare at me as if I told them the sky is pink.

  “Dang, Karessa, even I would have jumped on him by now.” My shocked guffaw makes Imala smirk. “What? I’m not so far gone in my studies that I’d miss that my brother-in-law is damn fine.”

  “It’s true grumpy and alpha as fuck but fine,” Esme adds. “You’re tripping.”

  I take a gulp of the drink, hoping the alcohol will calm my nerves before filling them in.

  “I’m not. I’ve tried. I’ve tried hard since the moment we said our vows. He keeps shutting me down. I’ve only touched it.”

  “Like he’s in the closet?” Esme asks.

  I shake my head. “No. He’s very much straight. He always says ‘read your prenup.’ So I’m here to see what’s in the damn thing. There’s some kind of no sex clause.”

  “It’s not an exact no sex clause,” Imala corrects. “It’s an out if you want to get out free. No sex for six months and you can annul it.”

  “And if I have sex with him, I’d have to stay married forever?”

  Imala reads the next line and flinches. “No. You could divorce, but you’ll get raped in court.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Okay. You know how the Hales own like seventy percent of the real estate and Dad has thirty percent? Well, Dad gave you twenty percent and kept ten. If you were to divorce within the first five years of marriage, you’d relinquish control to Oran thus giving the Hales ninety percent control which will drive up real estate prices. You only come out of this with your trust fund. Everything else will go to Oran.”

  “After five years?”

  “You keep ten percent and everything else still goes to Oran.”

  Her almost golden eyes fly over the pages.

  “In summary, Oran seems to be a moral guy because he could have fucked you then fucked you. If you have sex, you need to stay married minimum fifteen years to get out as you are now. After the fifteenth year, you can start earning from his estate.”

  “Looks like the question is how much is the dick worth, sis?”

  Leave it to Esme to summarize it like that.

  Chapter 17

  Karessa

  I wasn’t hiding all day. Okay, maybe a little. When I arrive at the house, Oran is slicing up a tender looking piece of steak. His biceps flex under his white t-shirt. Turning to the island, he glances up at me, then he moves the meat to flour tortillas, cover it with cheese, and pico de gallo. His chest pulls the shirt tight with his movements, the white cotton clings to his body in ways that quickly kills my clarity. His light pajama pants that tease me with hints of a print from a part of him I’ve never met. Then reality hits me. I’ve seen no part of him. Even when he changed at the wedding, he still wore a t-shirt underneath. I want to cry.

  “What are you doing?” I ask as if the last time we saw each other I wasn’t crying through an orgasm.

  “Making steak quesadillas. Want one?”

  I almost didn’t respond because my eyes are glued to his ass.

  Why does getting my ultimate temptation come with such a steep price?

  My tongue glides over my lips in appreciation and to add moisture. I snap my head up when he looks back at me. His gray eyes are guarded, but he raises his eyebrow in question.

  “Well?” He prompts.

  “Yes, please.”

  Carefully, I perch myself on the barstool, teetering a little because I may have had one too many drinks when trying to decide what to do. My toe gets caught on the stool, lurches my body forward, I’ve accepted that I will fall and probably break a tooth with the week I’m having, but collide with a warm mass of sexy man chest instead.

  “Whoa,” Oran cautions with a chuckle.

  I love how it vibrates through me. I release a lengthy suffering sigh and wrap my arms around his waist.

  “I like to think I’m a good person. Yet my life is telling me I’ve messed over someone, somehow. Maybe my parents did and I get the consequences as the oldest child.” I don’t give Oran a chance to respond as I continue to ramble. “I know all of us were born stupid rich, despite that, I don’t remember being a super brat making idle demands. I’ve kept my request and desires reasonable, I think.”

  Oran rubs my back, the heat from his hand is soothing and frustrating.

  “When life didn’t give me what I wanted, I handled it as gracefully as a teenager with hurt feelings could. I picked up and moved on only to have it come back wrapped in red tape and barbed wire then dangled in front of me like a poisoned carrot.” I sniffle like the brat I should’ve been. “What did I do to have something I want so close yet unattainable?”

  Oran waits a minute to ensure I’m finished before he speaks.

  “Um… what are we talking about?”

  “You. You big sexy ball of complications.” Pulling away, I pick up a triangle of quesadilla and chew angrily. Of course, it’s delicious. “You heard about my stupid crush from my big-mouthed sister. I wanted to be Mrs. Hale, but it was a cold chance in hell. Then, I find out I’m being forced to marry you, but you hate me. You hate me, but you want me. We get married now, you don’t hate me and you don’t want me. Then, you might want me, but wait, there are terms and conditions.”

  I drop the half-eaten triangle on my plate and wipe my hands with the provided napkin.

  “Kiss me, Oran.”

  His eyebrows shoot up and he glances around for a beat.

  “You’re drunk, Karessa.”

  “I’m sober enough to want a kiss!” I yell.

  Oran leans in like he’s negotiating with a terrorist. Too late, the moment passed. Using my fingertips, I push him away by his lips.

  “Forget it,” I tell him. I shimmy off the barstool. “I’ll just go to bed and try again tomorrow.”

  I throw the peace sign over my shoulder, plod to the room like a misunderstood child, and face plants on the bed.

  I’ll be an adult tomorrow.

  * * *

  Oran

  “Ooookay,” I mumble to myself as I polish off the food.

  I knew about her teenage crush, but her drunk rant gives me feelings I don’t want to explore. Pouring myself a drink, I attempt to wrap my mind around being the one ‘thing’ someone always wanted. In the States, it was just my mother and me. She was an orphan and vowed that any child of hers would know what it’s like to be loved by his or her parents. She exceeded her goal. She was always my favorite person, even as a moody teen. Elmer didn’t want me around unless it suited his tastes. He only taught me the business so he could keep his wealth up and continue to win in his retirement. Jagger is my best friend and I know he loves having me around, I don’t doubt that for a second, but he has his own life.

  The way Karessa lamented made me sound like an unattainable goal. The prize she could never win. Her white whale.

  I’m right here.

  Terms and conditions.

  I’m assuming she’d finally read that bullshit prenup of hers. I know it’s not ideal, but people get married to stay together forever. Granted, we were forced into marriage so we have a learning curve. We didn’t know each other our entire lives like Jag and Ainslee.

  Opting to leave the topic until she’s sober, I focus on what I can control. I’d purchased provisions for su
ch an occasion but didn’t think I’d have to use them this soon.

  After gathering the items, I get to work putting everything together. Twenty minutes later, I’m pushing the door open to our room.

  Karessa is lying diagonally across the bed on her stomach in just her underwear. Some of her hair is stuck to her face and her eyes are closed. Part of me is happy she’s a sad drunk because I’d have issues fighting off a horny and drunk version of her.

  I think she’s asleep until she grumbles. “What do you want?”

  “Want to talk about it?” She’s adorable as hell when she blows a raspberry. “Well, how about some white cheddar mac and cheese with bacon?”

  Her eyes pop open and she happily sits up and crosses her legs, making a “gimmie” motion with her fingers and not caring that her bare tits are melting my mind.

  I sit on the edge of the bed facing her.

  She takes a generous scoop and sighs when it’s in her mouth.

  “This is so good. Where did you order it?” she mocks me with a drunken smirk.

  “I deserved that.” I test the waters. “I’m guessing you read your prenup.”

  “You mean that load of bullshit that’s somehow legal?” She says around a mouthful of noodles.

  “Yeah. And I take it you’re still deciding what to do about it.”

  “Yeah. I’m processing.”

  “Then what do you want me to get for you to wear?”

  She looks down at her body like she’s just now noticing her state of undress.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Karessa, I know you’re drunk but I need you to pay attention.” I pause until she stares at me. “I know it sucks, but you got a few things wrong. You’re right, you were too young for me to notice you when I was a teen, but we’ve been adults for a long time. You’re right, being forced into an arranged marriage pissed me off.” I hold up my hand showing her the ring I haven’t removed since she placed it on my finger. “But it’s done. I’ve never hated you and I’ve wanted you from the moment you came to my office.”

  Karessa scoops another spoonful into her mouth and watches me like I’m prime time. I take her silence as an encouragement to continue.

  “If we would have met as adults under different circumstances, I would’ve fucked you by now.” My eyes flicker to her small yet full and perky breasts. They make my mouth water. I palm one, then pull at the nipple until she whimpers. “Dirty.” I add, licking my lips and watching her slowly swallow. “You’re not fine. Going to bed like this puts you in danger of me fucking you sober. Then you can’t process because I’ll legally own your body.”

  I grab her chin and pull her closer to suck her bottom lip into my mouth. My tongue teases her and collects some cheddar. Letting go, I stand and look at her.

  “Delicious.”

  “Take off your shirt and give it to me. At least some part of you can be all over me, you fucking tease.” Her response amuses me.

  “Nice try. I’ll meet you in the middle,” I tell her while I retrieve one of my shirts from my dresser. “Put it on before I ruin your life with my dick.”

  We trade the shirt and the empty bowl. I leave her to get dressed while I take more time than necessary to wash the bowl. If we’re heading for annulment, it’s going to be a long six months.

  Chapter 18

  Karessa

  I pry open my eyes and immediately wish I was still asleep so the memories can stay in the past. I’m not one of the fortunate people who have the balls to drink until they blackout. I only get far enough to lose my inhibitions and remember every fucking thing.

  I groan, more for embarrassment than pain since Oran gave me water and painkillers before he cuddled me until he fell asleep. I’m so damn confused. He raised hell when we found out we were engaged. Called me a trophy, stuck me in a hotel until he moved me to the air mattress I’d slept on until we were married. Now, he’s giving me jewelry inspired by my favorite flower, cuddling, and knows my comfort food.

  What the hell?

  The bed is empty and I don’t hear any signs for life beyond this room. Good. I need to regroup. I stand in the shower, letting the warm water beat down on my body before attempting to wash my hair or body. Something’s not adding up and as much as I want to believe my local celebrity is catching feelings for me, it seems fast and a complete one-hundred and eighty degree turn from who he was not even two weeks prior.

  I’m partially finished making breakfast when he returns from God knows where. He’s still wearing the same t-shirt from last night, some jeans, and his tennis shoes. His hair is unkempt like he couldn’t keep his fingers out of it. I don’t know if I should be who-you-fucking suspicious or wonder if something bad happened.

  “Early morning?” I ask to keep it neutral.

  “Yeah. Feeling better?” He grabs my face and tilts my head back to look me in the eyes. “Question. Do you have any allergies or medical conditions I need to be aware of in advance?”

  “None I’m aware of.” His face is a mask of relief when he kisses me on my forehead.

  “Good.” His reply is followed by a pat on my ass.

  That does it. Who in the hell is this?

  I move the plates to the island. Oran accepts his plate with a smile and thanks me. My suspicions multiply.

  “Oran, how did they convince you to marry me?”

  “Huh?” he asks around a bite of his pancake.

  “What did our dads do to get you to marry me?”

  Oran takes a bite of his bacon to buy time. “Does it matter?”

  “Yes. They put me through the wringer. My life was majorly disrupted, but yours seem to have gone on uninterrupted.”

  Oran shakes his head as he takes a sip of orange juice

  “Did it? I had a broke and homeless woman show up to my office, claiming to be my fiancee. I had to make arrangements then move someone in my home, although I’ve lived alone my entire adult life. I’m pretty sure my ‘life’ was altered.”

  “You know what I mean, Oran. Why is it a secret?”

  “It doesn’t matter anymore. We are married. Rehashing how we got here is pointless.”

  I push my food aside because I’m becoming upset to where it’s hard to eat. He’s being evasive. I don’t like it.

  “When you ask me questions, I answer. Why can’t you do the same?”

  “I answer plenty. Just drop it. Okay?”

  “Was there even a threat?” I accuse.

  It’s the only thing that makes sense right now. The Hales have something to gain from the LeClaires. Maybe Oran was in on it the entire time, waiting to swoop in and get a win for him and his dad. All he’d have to do is to be mean then ease off until I trust him, then he could sweep me off my feet and make me fall until I don’t care about the prenup. I’d be vulnerable and shocked when he files for divorce and take their share of my dad’s real-estate.

  Irritated steel burns a hole in my face as Oran focuses his full attention on me.

  “What are you suggesting?” he prompts, daring me to continue.

  “Was this the plan?”

  “Yes, I’ve always aspired to marry a woman who’d question my trustworthiness after a week of marriage,” he deadpans and pisses me off more.

  “So, tell me the ‘truth.’” I use air quotes when I say it. “Or are you working with your dad to lock me in that prenup?”

  The slap of Oran’s hand hitting the counter echoes through the house as he roars. “Then why haven’t I fucked you yet?”

  “I don’t know! You tell me. You’ve been mean from the beginning and now you want to act like you give a damn. What gives?”

  Oran scrubs his hands through his hair. “I’ve had a long night. I don’t have the energy for this shit.” He grabs his plate to walk away then turns to look at me. “Had it occurred to you that I am just tired of fighting?”

  I fold my arms. He’s said a lot of nothing since he has yet to answer my question.

  “Then tell me.”

&nb
sp; His jaw clenches as he stares at me a little longer, then walks off without a word. The backyard door closes as I fight my tears. This has been one big emotional rollercoaster. I need a break. Time to clear my head and look at the big picture because I can’t see it. Push the tears away with the heel of my hand.

  If he wants me to trust him, why can’t he trust me with the truth? I grab my keys and they jangle in my hand as I grab my purse.

  He’ll have plenty of time to rest.

  * * *

  I’ve been gone for at least five days and no call or text from my ‘husband.’ I don’t know how to take it. Am I mad? Is he mad? Are we mad? All I know is I still don’t have any extra answers from him and I can’t get them bouncing between my sister’s houses, going to the spa, and having mini shopping sprees. I don’t know why, but his unwillingness to look for me stings a little.

  How can I believe this all wasn’t his way to weasel things away from my family when he can’t be bothered to look for me? Now, I’m torn between returning to the house or just staying gone. I need a snack. Walking into Margot’s Cafe, I inhale the wonderful scent of everything sweet. I’m relieved to see Ainslee, the other half of the first set of the Founder’s children, forced to get married against their will. As the wife of Oran’s best friend, I suspect we will start seeing each other more if Oran and I don’t kill each other first. I frown, realizing that I miss his grumpy ass. It’s been harder to fall asleep without his warmth and all the thoughts having a field day in my head.

  Part of me fears he’s already succeeded in making me care. Pushing the thought away, I greet Ainslee. If anything, she’s the only one who knows how I feel right now. Chatting with her and filling my belly with sugar made me feel better. Knowing that she and Jagger are still learning but are growing feelings for each other makes me a little hopeful, although I still don’t know Oran’s angle. But I remind myself that there’s only one way to find out. Maybe tomorrow.

  Opting for fresh air, I walk through a nearby park to get to one of my favorite boutique shops. It’s great for finding like knick knacks for weddings and other events I’m in charge of coordinating. Like always, I stop on the sidewalk to look at the front of the widow display where the new or interesting things are placed. I smile at the little cherubs, my head immediately begins plotting out a heavenly theme for a baby shower when I feel someone near me. Soon, a shadow looms over me, forcing me to stand up straight.