Reluctant Bride

by Sam Crescent

  “It was millions!” she cried. “It was someone else’s money. Doesn’t matter if they wouldn’t miss a little, it wasn’t yours to take.”

  “It is what it is,” he said with a shrug. “Truth of the matter is I don’t deserve to go to jail. They are the real crooks. Not me.”

  “Oh, my God,” she muttered, closing her eyes for a moment and rubbing the bridge of her nose. A headache brewed right under the surface. She was unable to believe she was having this conversation. Her whole life, her father hadn’t been there emotionally, but he’d supported her in other ways. Like her education. It was a bitter blow to know even that had been a detached lie.

  Regardless, she wouldn’t allow him to drag her down with him. Taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and opened her eyes to stare at her father. “This is your bed. Not mine. You chose to steal, you need to pay the price.” She turned to look at Jason Macalik. “And you’re insane if you think I’m going to marry you.”

  His dark eyes narrowed. “Even if you’re implicated in the embezzlement?”

  Her heart painfully skipped a beat. “W-what do you mean?”

  “The art world is a small community,” he said. “What would it do to your reputation if it became known your father embezzled money for your education? The whispers and rumors would be enough to end any career. No museum would trust you as curator.”

  Helpless anger made her lash out. “What about your own company? Wouldn’t people lose trust in knowing one of your employees swindled them?”

  “I found the breech almost as soon as it happened,” he said calmly. “The money he took was my own. My clients were never victims.”

  “But … but if you knew, why did you let him continue?” She shook her head. “That makes no sense.”

  “I have my reasons,” he said softly. “You have two choices. Marry me and all this goes away. Or walk out that door, and your father goes to prison as well as your reputation being torn to shreds.”

  Poppy felt the noose tightening. The world shifting. Jason Macalik was right, any hint of impropriety would be enough to sink any hope she had of eventually being curator of a museum. Reputation was everything in the art world.

  “Damn you,” she muttered, intending the words for both men but saying it more her for her father than the handsome man putting them in an uncompromisable situation.

  “Probably,” the man replied without inflection.

  “How can you be so heartless?” she asked, her voice cracking.

  “No one gets ahead in life by having a heart,” he answered calmly. Satisfaction made his eyes glitter. “We’ll leave shortly to finalize the wedding arrangements.”

  She didn’t contradict him because she knew there wasn’t any way out. At least, not yet.

  “Daughter—”

  Poppy spun around and glared at her father. “I want you to go. Right now, I’m so pissed at you I’m afraid I’ll say something I’ll regret. So right now, I don’t want you around me.”

  He stiffened. “I hope we’ll be able to talk soon.”

  “Just … go,” she ground out between clenched teeth. She was trying to rein in her anger even though every inch of her body wanted to scream at her father.

  Without another word, Albert left. As he closed the office door behind him, she had this panicky sense he was sealing her doom. Needing a moment to gather her thoughts, she walked over to the window and stared blindly over the Las Vegas skyline. The only thought she had was to make Jason Macalik see reason.

  “Why are doing this to me?” she asked.

  He joined her by the window. “I think we’ll have a beneficial marriage for both of us.”

  “Beneficial? How can marrying a stranger possibly help me? I’m getting ready to start my doctorate program.” Impotent anger burned through her again, and she curled her hands in fists. “I have plans to be a curator. I don’t want to get married, let alone to a man who’s blackmailing me!”

  She turned toward him and brought all her rage down as she hit his arm. He grabbed her wrists to prevent her from hitting again, and horror that she struck out at him filled her. She wasn’t that type of person, at least, she never thought she was. The knowledge that she could hit someone in rage deflated her instantly.

  “I have no plans to stop you from obtaining your doctorate,” he said softly. “In fact, my plan requires you to further your education.”

  “Your plan?”

  Slowly, he let go of her. “Las Vegas doesn’t have a proper art museum. There are galleries, some better than others, but nothing on an international scale where we can get tours of famous artwork. It’s quite disappointing.”

  Poppy blinked, completely taken aback by his switch in topics.

  “Like I said, the first painting I ever bought was a Courbet,” he continued. “Collecting art became an obsession and when I realized I needed to have a career that made me a lot of money, I decided to go into finance.”

  “Then why Vegas? Wouldn’t it be smarter to work in New York or Chicago where the financial hubs are?”

  “I could, but Vegas allowed me to carve out a very lucrative niche among the casinos. This place provided the blueprints to other casinos throughout the world, and I’m also involved with those businesses. However, I do have a financial office in LA that I plan to turn into my main base of operations until you graduate.”

  He’s willing to move because of me? Nothing made sense. “I still don’t understand how this affects me.”

  “You are the integral part of my plans for the future,” he said. “As curator of the museum of art I wish to build here in the desert.”

  Shock filled her. “But … I don’t have practical experience—”

  “You will,” he said confidently. “My money can open doors for you. I don’t want you to stop your education. In fact, I encourage you to continue and be all you want to be.”

  Poppy cocked her head. “As long as I’m married to you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why me? Anyone could do what you propose.”

  He reached out and ran a finger lightly down her cheek. “I don’t want anyone. I want you.”

  Something disconcerting zinged through her. Jason Macalik was proving to be a disturbing enigma she didn’t know how to unravel.

  “What about s-sex?” she asked, stammering over the most intimate part of marriage.

  “I plan for our marriage to be a real one.”

  Her mouth went dry. She wasn’t a virgin, but her previous one experience left her ill-prepared for Jason’s magnetism. How could she be drawn to a man whose actions were abhorrent?

  “I can’t … I mean, I think I would need some time before cementing that part of our union,” she said.

  A ghost of a smile hovered on his lips. “I can give you a little time. Are you finally conceding?”

  Am I? Poppy took a deep breath. “I can’t help but think this sounds like blackmail.”

  The smile instantly vanished, and for a moment, she missed how it had put her at ease. The hard man before her now looked ruthless.

  “That’s an ugly word,” he said.

  “But accurate. If I don’t do as you ask, you’ll ruin me before I even have a chance. Art is my sanctuary, the one place I’ve always gone to soothe my soul. I don’t want you to taint that.”

  “I’m not. I’m giving you that future in a security blanket.”

  Once more, the noose tightened, but she nodded anyway.

  “Good,” he said, the smile returning. “Now come. We have a wedding to plan.”

  Chapter Four

  Poppy was really confused. Jason Macalik was a handsome, dynamic man, so she couldn’t understand why he felt the need to blackmail her into marriage. If he had some type of psychological problem, or if he had a weird fetish, she had to find out his motivation. The excuse that he wanted her to head up his futuristic museum of art seemed extremely thin and not at all believable.

  He escorted her down to the parking level and tow
ard his SUV. He held open the passenger door and made sure she buckled in before closing it and heading to the driver’s side. A few minutes later, he drove them out of the parking.

  “Where exactly are we heading?”

  “I’ve put a wedding chapel on standby.”

  She didn’t remember him making any phone call. “When did you do that?”

  “Not long ago.”

  “When?” she asked, pursuing a more concrete answer.

  He glanced at her. “Last week.”

  Suspicion blossomed. “And when did your audit take place?”

  “Last week.”

  “Wait.” She put the pieces into place. “You said back there that you knew my father was stealing from you, but you did nothing. Instead, you let him dig a deeper hole. And you booked a wedding chapel right after. You planned all this.”

  “I didn’t plan on your father stealing from me.”

  “How long have you known?”

  “A while.”

  “You make no sense. Why? Why would you deliberately do that? What kind of asshole does that make you?”

  “A methodical one.”

  Poppy shook her head. “Help me understand, Mr. Macalik.”

  “Call me Jason. After all, I’m going to be your husband.”

  The thought sent a shiver down her spine, although it wasn’t from fear. More like a heightened awareness. She didn’t get the impression he was a man who hit women, but abuse came in many different forms.

  “If you harm me,” she said, “I’ll leave. I don’t care what threats you intone.”

  The car came to a stop at a light. He looked at her with wide eyes. “You think I’d hit you?”

  “I don’t know you,” she reminded him.

  “I abhor violence of any kind, especially toward women and children.” He shook his head. “There’s never a reason for it. And before you think to cry emotional abuse, I don’t play head games.”

  “You’re forcing me to marry you,” she reminded him. “That’s a head game.”

  “No, this isn’t a game. This isn’t me using you and discarding you in a few months’ time. This is a path to a future we both want.”

  He faced forward as the light went green. Silence descended in the car, and she looked out the side window, blindly staring at the scenery as it passed by.

  “I know you feel helpless,” he said.

  “You know nothing.”

  His fingers tapping on the steering wheel seemed awfully loud. “Have you ever wanted something desperately?” he asked suddenly.

  She stared at him, trying to focus and keep up with his ability to jump from one topic to a completely different one in the blink of an eye. “Of course.”

  “No.” He shook his head. “I mean, have you ever wanted something to the point where you thought you were going mad? That the thought of not having it caused physical pain? Where you dreamed of nothing but it and would do anything to possess it?”

  She peeked over at him. “I take it you don’t mean desires of a teenage girl.”

  He smiled wryly. “No. Obsession. That’s how I felt after I obtained my first Courbet. And then I wanted another and another. Each one I’ve managed get, nothing compared to that first one.”

  “The first one being the one you’re going to show me?”

  “Yes. Eventually. The first one made me obsessed.”

  “No,” she murmured. “I’ve never had that type of fixation.”

  “The path to my fixed purpose is laid with iron rails, whereon my soul is grooved to run.”

  “Who said that?”

  “Ahab in Moby Dick. He’s talking about his own crazed fixation.”

  “His … or yours?”

  He gave her a brief grin. “Exactly.”

  “So, when will I be able to see your collection?”

  “As soon as we finish with the chapel.”

  Not long after, he pulled up to the downtown wedding chapel and parked. He exited the vehicle, walked around to the passenger side, and waited until she unlocked her door. For a moment, she had this childish impulse to never unlock the door but quickly realized that wasn’t in the best course of action. She couldn’t hold out in a vehicle that wasn’t hers forever. She hit the unlock button and Jason held out his hand. After a moment’s hesitation, Poppy took it.

  Inside the chapel, the cool interior was a welcome relief from the hot Las Vegas sun. A smiling man hurried forward to greet them a bit too enthusiastically.

  “Hello! Hello, Mr. Macalik! Welcome back. I have all the paperwork arranged if you’d like to look it over.”

  “Excellent,” Jason murmured. “I brought my fiancée.”

  The man beamed at Poppy. “My name is Robert. I’ve been working with Mr. Macalik to make sure you have the best wedding possible. I have the wedding license. All you need to do is sign it. Everything is arranged and ready for Saturday.”

  “Saturday?” Poppy asked, aghast. “So soon?”

  “We don’t need a long engagement,” Jason said.

  She bit her tongue from saying anything more. After all, what did it matter? This wasn’t her planned wedding so whatever Jason Macalik wanted, she’d go with it. She tuned out the wedding talk, not caring at all what was being discussed. As the meeting came to a close, Poppy found herself staring down at the wedding license. If she signed, she was agreeing to Jason’s crazy scheme. She looked at him and saw the wariness in his gaze. He waited for her to make the choice, but did she really have one?

  After picking up the pen, she signed her name where Robert had put little tabs then looked back up at Jason. Satisfaction practically oozed from his body. When everything seemed finalized, he took hold of her hand and led her from the chapel. He didn’t say anything until they were on the road once more.

  “You can stay at my house,” he said.

  Apprehension gripped her. “I’m not sleeping with you tonight!”

  “Did I say anything about sharing my bed?”

  Poppy blinked. “Um, no. I just thought—”

  “I said I wanted our marriage to be a full partnership,” he said softly. “But that doesn’t mean tonight. My private collection is at my house, under heavy security.”

  “Oh,” she said, relaxing. “Thank you.”

  “I’m not a monster, Poppy, although I’m sure you perceive me as one.”

  She studied his profile. No, she didn’t think him a monster, but she certainly didn’t think he was a hero either. She supposed time would tell which way he’d fall on the precipice she had placed him on.

  Chapter Five

  Jason approached a gated community and slowed as the large iron barriers swung open. The houses were large, stately manors nestled among expertly manicured lawns, with a pond nestled in the center of the community. Security guards rode around in golf carts, and a few waved at Jason. He pulled up to a house and Poppy looked up at the huge place, hoping the thing came with a housekeeper because there was no way could she keep up with the cleaning.

  “Wow,” she said. “This is a large house.”

  “It was a sound investment,” he replied. “I got in on the early construction and the property value has more than doubled. If we ever sell, we’ll make a tidy sum.”

  She frowned. “Do you ever think of more than just what something is worth?”

  “I’m a financier,” he said. “I can’t help but think in investment terms.”

  “Except when it comes to Courbet.”

  He gave a wry nod. “Touché. Although art does retain its value.”

  “Only if you go to resell it. I have a question. With your dream of opening a museum, will you showcase your own collection?”

  “Yes. Most of it. Besides Courbet, I have many other artists I’ve amassed. They shouldn’t be hidden in a vault. Their beauty needs to be enjoyed with the world.”

  She nodded, satisfied with the answer. Her mind already raced with the ideas on how she would showcase his pieces. Perhaps even add a galley to little-kn
own artists. As she daydreamed a bit about the future art museum, he walked around the SUV and opened her door. Without thought, she took his hand as he helped her out, and she didn’t let go. Tingles shot up her arm and she glanced bemusedly at where they touched. She’d read about physical attraction but had never really experienced it. Even with the one boyfriend she’d had, it had never been about sexual desire, only about their mutual love for art.

  Just as she was about to pull away, Jason tightened his grip on her hand and led her forward to the front door. It unlocked with a press on his remote, and he brought her inside. Tall cathedral ceilings, a Herringbone pattern laid out in the marble tile, and wainscoting throughout the house. Everything screamed of opulence. However, for someone so into art and color, the place seemed very sterile, for lack of a better word.

  “I’d say you can redecorate, but since we’ll be leaving for Los Angeles, there’s really no need,” he said. “I just never had time to put any effort into the décor.”

  She offered him a tentative smile. “It’s lovely.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Lovely in a practical, nondescript way. I’m not blind, Poppy. When we settle in LA, feel free to decorate however you choose.”

  “Fuchsia furniture and lime-green walls?”

  “Only if you add purple carpets.”

  She found herself grinning at the unexpected humor coming from the stoic man. Humor wasn’t something she expected from him.

  He returned her smile with one that transformed his already handsome face. He then crooked his finger with a glint in his eye as he said, “This way.”

  As he walked down the hallway, she followed behind. Not because she had any sense of submission but because she wanted to study him a little more. For a moment, they had shared a comradery, and it made her hopeful they could grow from being strangers to … something more. Although she wasn’t quite sure into what. He already indicated he expected them to be a proper man and wife, but she had concerns about sleeping with men she barely knew. Perhaps the old saying was right. Men viewed sex as simply that—a physical act—while women applied intimacy to the equation.

  Her gaze slipped to watch his ass, the muscles bunching under the tailored slacks with each step. She imagined how they’d move as he thrust into her. Tight, controlled movements. Making her burn. Poppy had no doubt he’d know exactly how to drive her wild. To possess her completely. The only question she had was if she’d be able to satisfy him. Rich, smart, and drop-dead gorgeous, no doubt Jason Macalik had a lot of lovers under his belt.