Married to the Enemy

by R. S. Lively

  The audience claps, and I hide behind Logan’s back, clutching his hand for dear life. How is he not burning up? The light is practically burning my eyes and sweat is pouring off me into damn buckets.

  The rose that he took from our table is in his hand, and the stem slides through the space between his fingers as he clears his throat.

  “I’ve had the amazing opportunity to help a child for five years, but this year I won’t be able to. This morning I heard from her family that Harper Holloway has lost her battle with cancer. She died peacefully in her sleep last night.”

  I gasp, a bubble of emotion working its way up my throat. I squeeze his hand in reassurance, letting him know that I’m here.

  “She was young, taken far too early. She had a lot of living yet to do. She won’t experience falling and scraping her knee. She won’t experience the emotions of puberty, her first crush, her first love, prom, graduation, college, marriage, children. All those things that we have, she won’t. I’ve covered their last bill and expenses for the funeral. I hope we don’t lose another one.” He pulls me from behind his back, and I fight him for a minute. I don’t want the spotlight. Get it away from me.

  “Hold on a second—my date is being a little shy.”

  “Logan!” I hiss, but the microphone carries my plea over the crowd. They giggle like it’s a part of the show. Um, no. It isn’t. I wasn’t even aware I’d be up here.

  My heels slide against the wooden stage as he pushes me next to him. I squint my eyes from the light, plastering on a smile, and hold my hand up to block it and wave at all the rich people I don’t know.

  “Everyone, this is my beautiful girlfriend, Whitley Pope. She is a very compassionate person on the inside and out. She is an advocate for the environment, an advocate for the ones she loves, and an advocate for, really, anyone. I’ve never met a bigger, kinder heart, so that’s why I want to tell her that I’ve adopted one of her favorite people. You all know him.”

  The stem of the rose he’s holding tickles my palm as he places it in my hand, closing my fingers around it. “Look at the petal,” he says.

  My brows furrow in confusion, wondering what he is up to. “Okay.” I peel back each petal, like a banana, and come across a name, stamped across the red flower. My hand goes to my mouth as tears threaten my eyes. I can’t stop them from falling. I throw my arms around him, squeezing him and pouring every ounce of love I can into the embrace.

  He gently extracts me from his arms and puts a hand around my waist. “This year I’ve adopted someone very near and dear to this city. Jefferson Tompkins, the owner of Tops’ Diner. For all who don’t know, he has cancer in his lungs, and it’s spreading. He contacted me to buy the diner.”

  To my surprise, everyone gasps, and the wave of light conversation is suddenly loud, making my head spin. All these people knew Tops?

  “I convinced him to keep half, so when he kicks cancer’s ass, he can have it back again. He needed to sell to pay for medical expenses, but now, he doesn’t have to worry about it and my girlfriend can breathe a little easier knowing that her family is being taken care of. I’ll do everything I can to make sure he gets the best treatment possible.”

  I break down. I can hardly keep my legs below me, but Logan’s arm is around me, holding me up, keeping me afloat.

  “Let’s start the night with a raffle. Brandon, would you mind?”

  The crowd stand and cheers, and he rushes me off to the stage. I have my eyes cast down, staring at the different shoes of all the people as we speed walk down the aisle. People pat our backs as we pass by, and Logan escorts me out into the hallway, pushing the heavy doors open to lead us outside. The cool breeze of the night graces my skin, drying my tears in a matter of seconds.

  “Hey.” He grabs my arms, tilting his head down to try to meet my eyes but I can’t stop looking at the rose in my hands. I want to keep it forever.

  “Hey, look at me.” The gentle brush of his fingers lift my chin and my gaze locks onto his. “What’s with the tears, Whitley? There’s no reason to be sad.”

  “I’m not sad,” I sniffle.

  “Yeah? The tears say otherwise, Cherry.”

  “There are different kind of tears, Logan.”

  “What kind are these?”

  “Happy. So happy. I can’t believe you did this for him. I never thought—I didn’t know—” My bottom lips start to quiver as I think about all the possibilities that Tops will have now because of Logan and this amazing function he put together.

  “I know, come here.” He pulls me into his arms, shushing me as he wraps his arms around me, swaying us to the jazz music that is muted in the background from behind the doors.

  I exhale a deep breath, letting the worry and stress go. I don’t have to let the issue with Tops keep me up at night anymore. Even if Tops doesn’t survive, it wouldn’t be because of the lack of treatment. He would have had the best there is. For some reason, that brings me more comfort than I had ten minutes ago.

  “You okay?” His plump lips kiss my forehead.

  I dab a tissue under my eye, trying not to mess up the perfect makeup. “I’m fine. Just—thank you, Logan. Thank you, so much. I don’t know how I can ever repay you.”

  He shakes his head. “I don’t think you know how much you already have.”

  Is this how love is supposed to be? Is it supposed to feel this good? I don’t know, since it’s something I’ve never had before. I’ve never been in love, so I have nothing to compare it to, but this has to be it, right? This overwhelming, consuming, fluttering-butterflies feeling?

  I’ve known heartache through other circumstances, but I’ve never known love to ache. Like I have so much of it for this man that it hurts my heart. It’s heartache in a completely different way. It fills every crevice in my body. It overcompensates the insecurities I have. It fills the marrow in my bones, carrying hope and life, making my mind, body, and soul stronger.

  He has enraptured my being. Logan has possessed me, claimed me, and consumed me. My mind gets lost, thinking about how we got here. Out of all the directions life could lead me, it brought me here, into his arms. The arms of a rude, pompous, arrogant jerk—who has somehow become the kindest, gentlest, and most compassionate man I’ve ever known. The last place I thought I could ever be.

  If he ever decides to leave, I’d imagine the heartache I’d feel would be completely different than the one I’m feeling now.

  “Come on,” he says. “Let’s go back inside before we miss the good stuff.”

  Logan

  “That wasn’t the good stuff?” she asks, unsnapping her purse and grabbing her compact. She wipes the mascara that has smeared under her eyes and dabs on some more powder. Man, I underestimated that shit before, because wow, it really does cover everything. Not that she needed it, but her eyes seem a little brighter now.

  “Psh, no way,” I say as we make our way back inside. “We have a five-course meal headed our way, and I don’t know about you, but I want a steak, maybe some ice cream.” I do want ice cream, but the way her face reddens at the word, makes my cock punch the inside of my pants.

  “Naughty, girl. I just want ice cream now. Jesus Christ, you’ve turned me into a madman over dairy.” I mutter, lacing her fingers with mine and opening the door for her.

  “It’s not my fault your mind is always in the gutter.”

  “Says the girl who licks ice cream like she sucks my cock,” I say a bit loud and one of the guests quirks a brow at me.

  Whitley bursts out laughing. It’s boisterous and loud, making a few heads turn our way.

  I pull her close, and she uses my chest to muffle her laugh. Her shoulders shake as we walk back toward our table. “I didn’t mean to say that so loud.”

  She wipes from under her eyes again, cursing when she sees she has smeared her makeup up. “Damn, that was hilarious.”

  Right as we sit down, the first course comes out. It’s a light salad with strawberry vinaigrette on the side. Everyone
’s focus is on the food, and all the conversation has stopped. Silverware clank against the plates and another round of champagne goes around. Charlie, Kyle, Whitley, and I have a great conversation and laughter. Kyle tells me funny stories about Whitley growing up, and they’re adorable.

  He takes a swig of his champagne and wraps an arm on the back of Charlie’s chair, trying to be casual. I can see now what Whitley means about the two of them. They are crazy about each other, but the way they tiptoe around is maddening.

  “So, growing up, Whitley must have been around eleven because that would make Anthony eighteen. He was never home, and Whitley and I always hung out, right sis?” he held out his fist for a pound.

  “Right,” she smiles, bumping his knuckles.

  “Anyway, Anthony is too cool for us at this point, and this chick—oh my god, our parents were freaking out. But Whitley had snuck into Anthony’s car before he went out for the night with his friends. She just wanted to see him, you know? She looked up to him so much and the more she did, the more he tried to push her away. He was eighteen.” He shrugs, as if that explains it.

  “Whitley is in the trunk, waiting for him to stop and pull over, but she didn’t know he was going on a date. Man, Mom and Dad were freaking out. They searched the entire house, and they call Anthony, and he was like, ‘I’m not even home. I don’t know where she is.’ And then—and then—” Kyle starts laughing, tears rolling down his face. He tries to breathe, but he can’t stop laughing.

  “Kyle, deep breaths,” Charlie says with a grin.

  “I’m trying. I’m trying. Okay. Whew. Alright.” He shakes his head, making his cheeks wobble as he gears up to finish the story.

  “It isn’t even that funny,” Whitley grumbles into her flute glass. “I was blinded. I had nightmares for weeks.”

  Okay, now I’m curious.

  “He had taken his date to the overlook where all the couples go to make out and have sex,” continues Kyle.

  “Oh, no,” I gasp.

  “’Oh, no’ is right,” comments Whitley, leaning her head against my shoulder. My arm immediately wraps around her, and my fingers rub against the flawless plains of her arm.

  “She pushed the backseat down when she hadn’t heard them talking in a while. Her words to our parents were, ‘I thought they stopped breathing because I didn’t hear them.’ But when she clicked the button and flipped the seat down, she saw his date jacking him off, and she punched the girl in the face saying, ‘Stop touching my brother’s privates! I’m telling Mom!’ And Anthony freaked out, I mean, who wouldn’t. Not only did he get caught, but his little sister saw his goods. When he got home, she told our parents what happened, and Dad laughed, like had tears running down his face, but Mom was mortified.”

  “I was never the same after that. And I was eleven. How was I supposed to know what she was doing?”

  My shoulders shook as I laugh the hardest I ever have. “Wait, so what happened with the girl? And did you get in trouble for being in the trunk? Why were you there, anyway?

  “They didn’t go out again. I ruined that for him. And I just wanted to be around him. He did his best to not be around me, but I guess that’s what he thinks I do—ruin things for him,” she says, finishing the rest of her drink in one swoop.

  “You know that isn’t true, sis,” Kyle says.

  “Really? He punched Logan in the face. He was ashamed of me when all I ever wanted was to be accepted by him.”

  The mood changed. Charlie finishes her drink and holds up her hand for the caterer to bring another round.

  “Guys, it’s fine. I’ve come to terms with it. Plus, it was really funny.” Whitley laughs, and it breaks the cycle, making Kyle chuckle, then Charlie, and then me.

  “You were always trouble, weren’t you?” I kiss the side of her head.

  “Just adventurous. I don’t know what gets me in trouble until I do it.”

  “Spoken like a true criminal.”

  Her hands slide under the table and up my leg, brushing her fingers against my crotch. “You sure you want to keep pushing that?”

  I flex my hips, pushing my heavy sack against her palm, daring her to squeeze.

  “She has always gotten around like a criminal, but she has good intentions,” Kyle jokes, wiping his mouth when he finishes the last of his salad.

  “Explains so much,” I say, slapping my hands on the table as she tightens her grip.

  “You okay, dude?” Kyle asks, leaning over the table and taking his arm from around Charlie.

  I have to smother a grunt in my hand as she fondles me, trying to bring my cock to life. I am relieved when the caterers come out with the next course, distracting everyone from what is going on. She brings her hand back, lacing it with the other and placing them on the table.

  She is torturing me, and I never want it to end. When they place the plate down, I slide her chair closer to me, push her hair over her delicate shoulder, and skim my lips over her ear. “I don’t want this night to end, Cherry.” My hand caresses her leg, and I dip between where thighs meet, letting the warm, damp area heat my fingers. “After this is over, I want to take you somewhere.”

  She turns to me, and her lips are close to mine. The small puffs of breath she is emanating from between her lips breeze against my mouth, taunting me to take them in a heated kiss, begging me like a needy lover. “Where?”

  All I know is I want to take her somewhere fun. Somewhere unforgettable. Somewhere where we can have the time of our lives. “Where haven’t you been? And I’ll take you.”

  She smiles, taking a mouthful of steak. “I haven’t been anywhere.”

  “You’ve never left the state?”

  She shakes her head and washes down the meat with more champagne. “Never had a reason to, or the money. You need to remember I’m much younger than you, Logan.”

  Ah, right.

  “Okay, name the place, and we’ll go.” I throw my napkin on the table and slide my chair across the floor.

  “Right now? We just got our food.”

  “I have food on my private jet.”

  “Private jet? Damn, how rich are you?” Kyle asks as he cuts into his medium rare steak.

  “Very.”

  “Wicked.” Kyle nods his head like it is a normal thing to hear before going back to his business.

  An interesting character, that one.

  “Anywhere?”

  “Anywhere, Cherry.”

  I’m excited. I’m thinking of Paris, Rome, Greece, Madrid, London, Fiji, Iceland. The possibilities are endless. I’ll take her anywhere.

  “Vegas?”

  Uh, wow. Okay. “Vegas?” I ask with surprise.

  Her eyes light up like Christmas lights in New York City. “I’ve heard it’s so amazing. All the lights and casinos and shows. Oh! I want to see a show! Really? You mean it?”

  I’m shocked for a moment. I literally can take her anywhere around the world, and she wants to go to Vegas. I mean, whatever my girl wants, she’ll get. But Vegas?

  “I mean it, Cherry. Let’s go. You guys don’t mind, right? You’re welcome to stay. I’ll have Frankford set up a room for you here and get you in the morning.”

  “A room?” Charlie asks with nerves and chugs another glass of wine. How the girl isn’t falling over drunk is impressive, considering all the alcohol she has drank today.

  “Yes. You guys have had too much to drink to drive, and Frankford needs to take us to the airport.”

  “Um, we can call an Uber or something. Don’t go out of your way.”

  “Babe, he is wicked rich. Let him do it. My man.” Kyle holds up his hand for a high five, and I meet him with my palm. Oh, that’s a good one. You know it’s good when the skin stings.

  Whitley squats next to Charlie, whispers something in her ear, and they both squeal. Whitley leaves her with a kiss on the cheek, waving goodbye to her brother.

  It takes us another twenty minutes to get out of there, since everyone wants to shake hands with m
e. Whitley plays the role of perfect girlfriend—well, perfectly, smiling with the ‘nice to meet you’s and the flirtatious kisses on the hand by the older men. They compliment me about how beautiful she is, and they’re right. I know my woman is gorgeous.

  When we finally make our way out the doors, Frankford is waiting at the end of the stone walkway, holding the car door open between the pillars. We breathe a sigh of relief, and I loosen the bowtie around my neck, groaning when I release the first button, allowing me to breathe.

  Whitley leans on me for support and hops on one foot as she takes her shoes off. “Oh, so much better. I swear, I’ve never worn high-heels more in my life than I have with you. You’re killing my feet.”

  “I’ll rub them in the car, Cherry.”

  “Don’t tease me with a good time, Logan.”

  “Cherry, do I seem to like the type of man that teases?”

  “You’re the type of man to make teasing promises,” she says with a lick of her lips.

  I shoot Frankford a look that tells him to go to the front of the car. Leaning one hand on the top of the car, and my elbow on top of the door, she prepares to get in the vehicle. But she stops when her eyes meet mine. I know I’m staring at her with pure desire. “I never tease about promises. I am a man of my word.”

  “And what’s your word for tonight?” she disappears when she gets into the car.

  I follow her in, slamming the door. Before she can even reach for her seatbelt, I’m straddling her waist, unbuttoning my pants and taking her hand to run up and down my aching shaft that has been dying for another taste of her.

  Whitley

  The tires roll down the highway, carrying us to the airport. The humming of the tires put me in a light hypnotic state as Logan straddles me. Or maybe it’s him putting me in this trance. My hands take their time sailing over his trousers. The material is smooth, reminding me of velvet and silk, but the man straddling me sends my body into an array of chaos.