Irresistibly Dashing
Victoria Arabpour Pinder
Irresistibly Dashing
Copyright©2019
* * *
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemble to actual events, business establishments, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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Published in the United States of America.
Copyright © 2019 Victoria Pinder Love in a Book
All rights reserved.
This book is dedicated to my niece Luna, born a week after my own daughter. I love seeing her picture in my online feed everyday.
Contents
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Series Information
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Also by Victoria Arabpour Pinder
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Please check out the entire Brothers in Revenge Series and get caught up.
Brothers in Revenge Prequel
Irresistibly Lost (FREE)
Irresistibly Found
Brothers in Revenge
Irresistibly Charming
Irresistibly Tough
Irresistibly Played
Irresistibly Rugged
Irresistibly Strong
Irresistibly Dashing
Sarah Sawyer never thought she'd return to the same prison in DC where she’d married her temporary husband Beau Bentley, incarcerated for a crime he hadn’t committed, in the prison chapel.
Her uncle, known in his cult as Reverend Jensen, had set the Bentley family up, and later been caught for his crimes. It was fitting that he'd ended up imprisoned here for attempted murder, conspiracy and other charges.
The dark hallway with no windows and bars on the doors stank like urine and bleach. Her heart thumped as they made their way to the morgue.
Beau, at her side, surely must hate being here too--unlike her uncle, he wasn’t a bad man. The reverend had paid the ultimate price with his death.
Cold crept into her bones.
The prison guards led them inside an even colder chamber, and one of the men pulled open a metal slab. Sarah stood over her uncle’s body… the man responsible for sending Beau and his family to jail for crimes they didn’t commit.
The police officer in blue pointed toward the metal slab with a questioning look. Sarah studied the dead man’s face, her entire body tight. At least her uncle couldn’t hurt her, or anyone, anymore. She refused to ever, ever tremble. She prided herself on not showing fear, but this… today was hard. He’d been poisoned--or, he took it himself. Either story was plausible to her. She lifted her chin and stared into the officer's eyes as she said, “Yes. That’s my uncle.”
Beau stood behind her and placed his hand on her shoulder. “Sarah, I’m here if you need me.”
Why? Her mind wanted to scream that Beau needed to hate her--he should hate her for what she'd done. She hadn't trembled when he'd hated her. In fact it had been a comfort, knowing that their marriage would end. That one day… someday she might get her own life.
The officer led them out and she followed their black boots; each step making her stomach twist like she’d gag from the smell.
She glared over her shoulder at Beau and wished they were back to square one, when she'd been a shrew from her first day in Miami, or even earlier, before she'd voluntarily married a stranger. “Let’s not pretend to be friends now, just because all your other brothers married women they love.”
Beau’s calmness was like a comforting blanket and goosebumps rose on her arm as he said in a quiet voice, “That’s not it.”
They headed toward a room with a barred window where they’d be released.
This was like the day they'd gotten married.
Her stomach had reacted the same way then too.
Her heart beat faster and it wasn’t because of his touch--she wasn’t happy with him, not now. She walked away from him and followed the officer. “I’m ready to go. Where do I sign?”
Beau stayed close. Her heart whispered that she’d come to his rescue here once and it had turned out okay. Beau was a good man and he hadn’t hurt her in any way. On multiple occasions lately he’d made her laugh, but today… today it was like she'd reverted to who she'd been the day she'd stormed into this prison. She signed the official papers confirming her uncle's identity. Beau said, “Sarah, I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”
About a divorce? About ending their fake relationship now that his family had proven their innocence? After all this time they'd discovered who was after them and his father was on the ballot in Hoskell with a chance to be king again.
She knew the prison scene bothered Beau, his tailored suit and stoic expression. Her skin was jumpy too, no matter how silky her clothes were, but she pressed her lips together and glanced at the officer watching them. “Talk. There is nothing holding your tongue.”
“I don’t like prisons,” Beau said.
Fair. She continued to sign and then handed the wad of papers back to the officer. “We met in one.”
Arguing never got her anywhere, but lashing out somehow made the morgue less a big deal. She tried to breathe but the smell of the place made her lips curl.
Beau pointed toward the locked metal door with a small window and three bars. Stuck. “We got married in a room two doors down.”
At that, she impulsively stepped into his arms, needing a reminder that the past few months weren’t all bad. This time she didn’t hate Beau, she hated the dead man on the cold metal slab.
Her uncle had ruined everyone’s life he'd touched. “So we’ve come back to the scene of the crime.”
Beau patted her back like they were more than friends as he whispered, “Sarah, marrying you wasn’t a crime.”
His warm breath and smell of almond butter soap shouldn’t send a thrill through her. They weren’t that close. She sighed as they waited for the officer to check the paperwork. “What are you saying, Beau?”
Beau didn't answer.
The officer glanced up at them and she took Beau’s hand. “Can we go now?”
The officer pressed a button that made an alarm beep as the door unlocked. “Yes,"
he said. "Have a nice day.”
Her body tingled with the urge to run. But she walked out, holding Beau’s hand.
Once the sun shone on her head and she took a few deep breaths that didn’t have the stench of unwashed men, a weight lifted off her shoulders. Beau stayed the silent sentinel until they passed the second gate and reached the parking lot within the prison compound, surrounded by a tall barbwire fence. Her steps became lighter too. “You didn’t want to talk in front of the officers?”
He kept up a fast pace and shook his head, though he still held her close as he said, “No. I don’t like being here. Bad memories from that place haunt me.”
Like their marriage? Of her, showing up in a wedding dress and marrying him? She’d run out of options when she’d agreed to marry a stranger, who turned out to be one of the most precious things in her life. A guard in the lot released them through a gate in the electric fence. She said, “Okay, we’re outside. Breathing free air. So talk.”
“When we’re alone, on the plane.” He led her toward the Bentley limo waiting for them on the street.
She slipped into the black limo like this was now normal. Life with the Bentleys was the opposite of her humble beginnings where she’d lived with her grandparents until they'd both died, and then shuffled to her parents when she was eight, clearly unwanted in their home.
But in her former life she’d known who to fight, she’d learned to keep her guard up, and never, ever, ever trust anyone. The last was still true.
Trusting anyone, even Beau, was probably a mistake. Her parents had found a way to get rid of her entirely. She’d been threatened to either marry someone she'd thought was a criminal, or wind up in jail for destruction of property and arson.
Walking into the prison to marry Beau had been a challenge. Returning to identify the body of the man who'd set her up, good old Uncle Jensen… was almost laughable.
As much of a joke as her own crime committed to protect her little sister, who in the end hadn’t wanted her help at all.
The limo stopped at the airport and she hadn’t even noticed the passage of time.
The angry, bitter woman she’d been months ago had now lost her edges. Her silk sleeveless white blouse and linen pants were made for a princess, which wasn’t something she should be.
Sarah climbed the steps of the plane and took a seat at the table where staff had set out a stuffed chicken lunch for her.
Once upon a time, she’d never had stuffed chicken anything. Her entire culinary experience was cereal and sandwiches. But as Mrs. Bentley, she now had nice clothes and ate yummy foods that made her mouth explode with flavors.
Without questioning why, she sat down, said a prayer, and cut into her food.
Beau joined her, shedding his suit jacket before he ate his lunch.
Under his white button-down she saw those bulging muscles of his that billionaires shouldn’t have.
Neither said much as the plane took off. They held their plates as the aircraft soared upward but then they returned to eating.
Near Beau, a sense of normalcy returned.
This wasn’t good. It would be best if the proverbial eggshells she tried not to stomp on under her heeled feet returned so that she knew to be on guard.
Sarah Sawyer pretty much only knew how to fight and keep people away. She finished her meal and brought her plate to the kitchen area where one of his staff would eventually clean up their mess.
Beau was done too, so she brought his plate to the counter and turned toward him. She crossed her arms and widened her stance as she stared down at him, ready to fight. “Say what’s on your mind, Beau. I hate waiting. You know that… at this point in our relationship.”
Three months of marriage was a lot. And he knew her better than anyone else currently alive. Beau stood and towered over her though he was feet away and not trying to threaten her. He had no idea that he sent awareness through her as he said, “Your parents called my office this morning.”
She headed toward the living area of his private plane with a shrug. “Again? I told you to ignore them.”
He followed, his footprints trailing behind her. “They are worried about you.”
Yeah right. Worry? They hated her. Everyone hated her. And she hated everyone. It was safer that way. She plopped on the seat, intending to read something she found online. “You mean they want to pull me back into their web somehow, which is pretty stupid as I've married you… a sinner with no hope of redemption in their eyes.”
He took the seat next to her which meant no reading. Beau repeatedly smacked his thumb to his palm like he was playing ping pong. “My innocence has been front page of the news.”
She reached out to stop that sound and held his hand, ignoring the spark again as she peered into his brown eyes that made her knees weak. “Doesn’t matter. I’m never going back to their house. Do you still need me to go with you to Hoskell?”
He smiled like he’d won the lottery even though he didn’t need to win the lottery. He had more money than everyone else on the planet. “Yes. We’re leaving tonight.”
And there she’d parade around as a princess because technically she was married to a prince, but it didn’t feel that way. The only princesses she’d ever known were animated and on television screens during elementary school recess or played after a test had ended. She pushed her thin hair behind her ear. “So you just wanted to tell me at the prison that my parents had called?”
He squeezed her hand gently but she took it out of his. There were less butterflies and sparks that flew out of her when they didn’t touch. “They asked that we send your uncle’s body to them.”
Right. Her parents. Thoughts of them would keep her barriers erected and fortified around her heart. She slouched into her chair in a definitely not princess-posture as she closed her eyes. “Now that you should have told me in the prison.”
He tapped on something glass. She opened her eyes and saw that he had his phone in his hand. “My staff can handle everything.”
Her family believed in fast burials. She looked away. “They’d need the body… like today.”
She heard the tapping of his finger to his keyboard and then he said, “It’s handled.” He placed his phone down, phone on the table beside him .
Sarah felt it like he'd slammed it down. Her heart wasn’t right today. It was the prison effect. She sighed and sat taller. “Sounds fine. Beau?”
He scratched at his neck like he had some itch. “Yeah?”
She sucked in her lips and stared at her husband, the wall of muscles, with billions in the bank, and lately the closest thing she’d had to a friend. Her words she’d spouted to him today were like acid in her brain so she lowered her lashes and tried something hard… it was time to apologize. “Thank you for being… here, today. I sounded ungrateful when I’m just starting to like our friendship.”
His pivoted and their knees brushed. “Yeah, that’s what I needed to talk about.”
Perhaps that attempt at an apology wasn’t enough. She’d have to say the words. She met his gaze. “Look, I’m sorry. I hope you’re not mad at my rudeness. The prison wasn’t my favorite place to be either. Hopefully I never have another relative’s body to identify.”
Making sure that Jensen was truly dead and couldn’t hurt anyone else again was the only reason she'd dragged them to the prison.
He pressed his leg against hers. “Sarah, that’s not it. We have a problem.”
Besides the fact that his touch made her imagine the unimaginable? They were friends, not more, not less. Sarah had no reason to trust him. She was safer when she trusted no one but that wasn’t a reason to be rude when Beau was actually nice. Her heart raced as she asked, “We do? What’s going on?”
He adjusted in the seat beside her, which were much larger than a commercial airplane. “I thought it was time I set you straight on my intentions.”
Oh no. This was a divorce talk. She pressed her palm to her heart like that might stop it from going
so fast. “You have intentions?”
He moved back, but his knee kept flexing and touching her thigh, which shocked awareness through her. “Yes. First, let me say that I believe you’re innocent of any wrong-doing.”
Beau was so nice that this end of her life as a princess shouldn’t hurt or be a disappointment. She wasn’t made for his world. They both knew it. She lowered her head and shot back, mostly out of defensive habit, “I’m sure you checked my entire social media history to arrive at that conclusion.”
He shrugged like that was obvious. “You don’t have much of an electronic fingerprint.”
Computers, televisions… all of those things were for other people. Even the electronic book reader she now had, thanks to Beau, wasn’t her norm. All she'd had most of her life was a library card. “Until recently, my life wasn’t much different than that prison really. I was always… controlled. I’m an adult but I’m just starting to learn to live.”
His handsome lips thinned as he studied her. She replayed her words in her mind. Had she given him some weapon to use against her? She might not trust him, but she wanted to trust in the calm oasis they’d lived in together over the past few weeks.
“Second, Sarah, you’re the first woman I’ve spent more than twenty-four hours near without helping her slip out of her clothes.”
A sad chuckle escaped her as Beau reminded her of his sexiness compared to her drabness. It was a start to the end. She recalled what he’d said to her the first night she’d moved into his house, when she'd yelled at him that they wouldn't have sex, ever. He'd let her know that he wasn't interested. “Well, the fact that I’m not kissable helps.”
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