“Settle down. No need to be so nervous, Andrea. By the way, you look amazing, truly the way a bride should look.”
“Thank you,” she mumbled, meeting his eyes and feeling that crazy thump, thump of her heart she always felt when Ivan looked at her that way. She wanted to say so much more; wanted there to be so much more between them than just that earlier verbal agreement of her promise to be his willing and obedient wife, but the words wouldn't come.
Once they reached their destination, Ivan helped her out of the car. He steadied her as they entered the quaint chapel, tightening his hold on her waist as he directed her inside.
The photographer Ivan had hired was waiting for them and took a couple of pre-wedding photos. While Ivan spoke briefly with him about taking candid photos during the ceremony and a few afterward, Andrea was only half listening, her thoughts running a gamut of emotions.
She stood mentally reliving the twist of fate that had brought her to this point.
I wonder where father is.
Even knowing Benton had more or less sold her to Ivan, Andrea was sad, wishing it could all have been different. She had always envisioned her father walking her down the aisle on her wedding day, and giving her away to a man who loved her.
Fighting back tears, Andrea reminded herself this was just an arranged marriage; that she was nothing more than a bargaining chip to keep her father out of jail.
Swallowing a sudden lump in her throat, Andrea accepted the bitter truth.
Ivan Littlefield does not love me and he probably never will. He simply wants to own me like another of his many possessions.
Given the way things had gone down, and all that she had heard and now suspected about this man who was about to become her husband, Andrea wondered if an unyielding man like Ivan was even capable of really loving someone. And having mulled the turn of events over in her head for hours, Andrea was still lost as to why Ivan had chosen her.
Their gazes locked as he reached to take her hand. Andrea felt a surge of emotion she refused to acknowledge as love.
I cannot—will not love him! I have to remember that Ivan is just obtaining me as he has other properties. I must keep in mind that I am nothing more than a new possession to be used at will and once he’s tired of me, I’ll probably be discarded just as quickly.
On the heels of that painful thought was the desire to turn and run from the chapel. Andrea’s heart rate increased as the minister, whom Ivan had introduced as his personal friend, asked her to repeat her vows.
Her frantic green eyes sought Ivan’s, and when the clash occurred, she quickly lowered her gaze, faltering self consciously over the words.
“I—ah—Andrea Parker, take this man…”
She repeated the rest of her part like an automaton, her head lowered, her cheeks reddened with a flushed nervousness.
Not until Ivan squeezed her hand painfully hard, a silent command to lift her head, did she look back up. When she did, she was immediately held captive by his mesmerizing presence.
There’s no denying that Ivan is the epitome of a sexually desirable male; what every woman would want. And what most women in Vegas, especially those showgirls at his casino, have probably already had.
With that disturbing thought rattling around in her head, Andrea felt even more inadequate and overwhelmed.
But Ivan had had that effect on her from the first day her father had introduced them, that day he had hired Benton Parker to be his personal accountant; that strange, fated day not so long ago that had preceded this cataclysmic change in her life.
Those events rose like positioned dominoes, tumbling down one into another in Andrea’s memory. The first one was Ivan taking her and her father back to his house that evening and assigning them their own private wing.
Andrea’s thoughts drifted back over her arrival at Ivan’s mansion, when she had been so enthralled with not only him but their lavish living quarters. And that awed feeling had quickly changed into something much deeper as his generosity had extended to having his secretary take her into town the very next day to buy a whole wardrobe. And then the next night when he had gifted her the Gibson guitar, she had silently and almost reverently elevated him to a Prince Charming stratosphere, which was enhanced even more when he bought her father a car. Andrea considered him the answer to her many silent prayers.
How well she recalled how every encounter with him afterward had left her breathless—those chance meetings in the hallways of his home—those brushes against him on the staircase or in the library and dining area when she had inhaled his manly essence and felt the evidence of his desire—his subtle yet captivating after shave creating havoc within her senses and trip-hammering her heart with desire.
She recalled eagerly going to bed each night in hopes of spending hours wrapped tightly in Ivan’s cobweb dream arms and tasting his fantasy kisses, her imagination running hot and wild.
And now, in this life-changing moment of her forced marriage, even though her heart ached with the disparity of how this day should have been and how it truly was, those torrid and romantic thoughts came floating through Andrea’s mind and flushed her face.
She squashed them by reminding herself what she might soon be facing, even if just some of the many rumors surrounding this man beside her were true.
Is Ivan Littlefield nothing more than a ladies’ man? Is it true that no one woman will ever be enough to satisfy him? Is it true that he has bizarre sex habits? Does he always get his way because people fear him?
Yet, Andrea wasn’t afraid of Ivan. She was only afraid of herself; of falling so hard for him that it would irrevocably shatter her when he grew tired of the game she represented and cast her aside, as she felt was her ultimate destiny.
Now, the question that jabbed painfully in her mind, unrolling like barbed wire as the ceremony continued and she was only minutes away from becoming his wife was, how long before I become just another cast aside memory to you, Ivan?
Her father’s last bitter warning went off in Andrea’s memory like a fire alarm.
“Don’t trust him, ever. He’s buying you like he would a piece of meat, girl!”
More than anything, even after all that had taken place, Andrea wanted to believe Ivan was at least a little bit in love with her. But as unworldly wise as she was, she was not naive enough to believe that.
Swallowing hard, she accepted the bitter truth.
I am just a means to an end, both for father and Ivan.
The thought of her father and how he had so willingly walked away from her, eagerly accepting and agreeing to Ivan’s terms and the money offered without even considering her feelings, misted her eyes.
For the first time in her life, Andrea was forced to admit the truth about Benton Parker. He was a weak, narcissistic alcoholic who had considered her a burden and obviously was ready to get her off his hands so he could get on with his life.
Remembering the heated, overheard conversation between her father and Ivan, Andrea emitted a half sigh-half suppressed sob that she tried to stifle but could not.
Ivan heard and glanced down at her, frowning as he reached for her left hand, deftly removing her lace glove when the minister asked if he had the ring. He repeated the vow, and then slipped the band on her finger while the ceremony continued.
It was only the last part that got through Andrea’s nearly comatose fog.
“…I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride, Ivan, and may I add that you are one lucky man.”
“You may indeed, Len. And I agree,” Ivan said as he tilted Andrea’s face up with a finger beneath her chin and bent his much larger frame in order to claim his kiss, just a light touch of his lips before rising back to his full height. He removed her other lacy glove and placed both in his pocket.
Andrea was aware of the photographer taking pictures. She managed a smile when Ivan squeezed her hand in reminder.
As she turned, she saw that now all three of his personal bodyguards were
in attendance as witnesses, Sean and Marty stationed by the door, Ned standing to the right of Ivan, shadowing him as always, and she wondered when they had arrived.
They, along with Ivan’s officiating friend, the photographer and the lady who had played the organ, congratulated them both. Andrea managed to maintain her tremulous smile as Ivan tightened his hold on her arm and guided her toward the door.
She looked up at her husband, noting his self-satisfied expression as he said, “Well, Andrea, it is done. Happy birthday, Mrs. Littlefield.”
She nodded as a thank you, not trusting herself to speak.
When Ned opened the chapel door, Andrea was shocked by the crushing onrush of reporters and photographers who accosted them.
Ivan leaned into her ear to whisper, “Smile! Lift your head and pretend you are the happiest bride of the century. Give me adoring looks, but don’t say anything.”
Andrea, as instructed, looked at Ivan smiling, ignoring the many questions thrown at her as they pushed through the crowd, with Ned, Marty and Sean running interference.
Once they were inside the limo and Ned was behind the wheel, they headed toward home with their trailing paparazzi entourage. Ivan closed the privacy partition between Ned and them, and with the heavily smoked windows shutting out prying eyes it was as if they were in a dark cocoon, alone in the world. Ivan’s warm lips brushed hers softly, briefly.
Andrea fought back a surge of panic, remembering the terms of the bargain. She had agreed to honor and obey Ivan, and he had promised to honor her as his wife until death parted them. But did he really mean that? How could she hold a man like Ivan Littlefield? Andrea twisted the exquisite wide band of gold encrusted with diamonds around her ring finger.
Ivan drew her attention by gently squeezing her arm. When she looked at him, he leaned toward her, and deftly lifted her onto his lap. “Andrea,” he murmured, his deep voice rumbling in his chest and sending a frisson of excitement through her. Then Ivan was claiming her mouth again, only this time it was a ravishing and prolonged kiss that began with a soft tongue caress around her lips before his lips urged hers open to receive his probing tongue. His fingers barely whispered down the bare side of her neck, raising goose bumps in their wake, as his tongue thrust into her over and over again, leaving her shaken and like putty in his hands. As he deepened the kiss, one hand reached inside her bodice and plucked at her right nipple, twirling it gently then swirling the nipple round and round with his palm. Desire spiked through Andrea, straight to her vulva, and she felt herself becoming moist.
Ivan‘s hand left her breast and in one swift movement hiked up her skirt, exposing her bare thighs and her damp panties. Andrea moaned softly as he moved aside the crotch of the panties and started caressing her clit gently but firmly. Andrea opened her legs to give him better access. His strong, elegant fingers played her like a master violinist plays a violin, and she shuddered when one long finger penetrated her. “My God, darling. You are so hot. So tight,” Ivan murmured. Then he was ravishing her mouth again as he inserted another finger. The fingers curled upward and began stroking a part of her channel she had never before felt. Andrea felt the sweet, almost painful rise to climax blossoming within her.
“Ivan—please—,” she groaned, trying to rub herself against his hand. She was dying. She needed release. Suddenly, Ivan sucked at her nipple through the fine material of her dress, pulling it into his mouth as he inserted a third finger into her and stroked deep and long. Andrea convulsed violently around his fingers as she came and came and came.
As he released her, Ivan leaned back, staring into her flushed face as Andrea swayed into him, her thundering heartbeat slowing down. His slow smile made her wonder if he realized just how much he had just shattered her. It was nothing like she had ever felt in all her clumsy experiments to please herself.
“That’s just a taste of things to come, Andrea. I’m glad to see you are as passionate as I’d hoped you’d be. You are mine now, and you’re going to please me in every way I desire.”
Andrea felt a shiver of apprehension as she glanced at her new husband who looked cool and unmoved despite just rocking her world.
What do you expect of me, Ivan? How will I ever be able to please you?
Her questions remained a silent mantra within her mind, her thoughts running backward in time to that life-altering bargain she had been forced to agree to after hearing her father storm out of the house for the last time.
She remembered the way Ivan had requested she turn so he could inspect her with a critical eye and then demanded she open her mouth so he could check out her teeth, and the way she had almost exploded in anger until she had realized his mocking tone meant he was teasing.
And she remembered his voice softening to a seductive level as he’d looked into her eyes and said, “First time I’ve ever seen a green fire. Don’t worry. You’re my treasure, not my slave.”
The memory of the possessive finger he had then traced down her check creating a shivering response, now brought a corresponding shiver that ebbed as Andrea recalled how Ivan had so casually laid forth the unbending conditions of their arranged marriage.
“I demand your complete and undivided attention when I’m speaking to you, Andrea. I don’t like having to repeat myself. And I’m an old fashioned man, regardless of what you may have heard about me. I take marriage vows seriously and once they are spoken, they are life-time binding as far as I am concerned. Understood?
“I will expect you to live up to the part that stipulates a wife is to obey her husband. I abhor modern day women who flaunt their so-called emancipation before the world. I consider them masculine and unattractive. I will require my wife to be dutiful, obedient and completely feminine, with all that statement entails.
“And in return, I assure you I shall also be dutiful and as eager to satisfy you as you will be me. I trust I do not need to reiterate the obedient part, do I? Am I making myself clear?”
His words had given her the courage to snap back at him.
“What would you have me say? Does the auctioned lamb have a voice before the slaughter?”
She recalled his laughing then and how, even in the midst of her anger, she had thought that Ivan Littlefield was strikingly handsome when he relaxed his stern expression and let himself laugh.
“Ah, so you do speak. Even bark in poetic analogies. I find it extremely interesting that you equate yourself with the lamb, defenseless and pure white. I assure you we will explore that premise to the fullest later.
“I was beginning to believe you’d settled so far down into the role of your father’s mute puppet, hawking your songs and your talent to provide him with gambling money, that your spirit was permanently crushed. I wouldn’t want you if that were the case. You see I want to be the one to bank the fire in my woman, or in your case, the girl whom I shall mold into the woman I wish you to be, and I am looking forward to that task more than I can say.”
Now, as they rode in silence back to Ivan’s lavish, sprawling three-story French Norman-Style mansion, his choice of words on that day and the events that followed continued to burn through Andrea’s memory.
She swallowed the lump in her throat, thinking, I wonder where Dad went after he accepted Ivan’s check and disappeared.
As much as Andrea tried to tell herself now that she didn’t care, she knew that wasn’t true, because however larcenous he might have been, Benton was still her only family.
Again, she glanced nervously at Ivan.
Well, not exactly. Ivan Littlefield is my family now, for better or worse.
Chapter 6
Wedding Night Revelation
Two days had passed since her wedding. So much had happened Andrea found it hard to comprehend it all as she sat in the ‘indoctrination room’ where she’d been since Ivan had brought her home after the ceremony.
On their wedding night, following a short time of revelry when they, along with his staff and bodyguards, had shared wedding cake and champagn
e, Andrea had wondered what being Mrs. Ivan Littlefield would mean and how she might cope with it. Now she knew.
Alone in that secluded room to the side of the master bedroom, Andrea rehashed all she had come to know was expected of her as Ivan’s wife. Along with that knowledge came the conflicting emotions he had generated, a combination of erotic excitement and confusion.
True to his word, Ivan had already taught her many things. In the process, he had managed to awaken in her a lustful craving she knew only he could slake now in his special and enticing way.
The more she thought about everything that had taken place, the more Andrea couldn’t help but question the way things had turned out.
Did Ivan somehow anticipate how I would react? Did he know just by looking at me that I would welcome all the ways of making love he’s shown me? Did he know that about me even though I had no clue?
She felt certain the only logical explanation was that somehow he did because he was the kind of man who planned out everything to the last detail.
Without a doubt, as Dad implied, Ivan is a master manipulator.
Andrea sucked in a quick breath as she wondered if Ivan had tempted her father to embezzle in order to set up their marriage, knowing he was her only family, knowing he would then be free to control her completely.
That thought brought her full circle back to the haunting question, why in the world would Ivan want me of all people?
She recalled Ivan saying he had chosen her because she was ‘malleable’. Well, after two days of being locked in the ‘indoctrination room’, subjected to his form of ‘erotic teaching discipline’ she had come to terms with just how malleable she was.
Not only was she beginning to know the inner truth of her own carnal cravings, but she could appreciate the truth of those myriad rumors attributed to Ivan. They were all true. He was indeed hung like a horse and he did have an insatiable sexual appetite and he definitely was a man who always got his way; a man you didn't want to cross.
Andrea sat reliving that time two days earlier, after their wedding ceremony, when she’d been afraid, wanting to run away and yet eager to discover everything her husband had to teach her.
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