Temporary Wife

by Aria Ford

  “Olivia has disobeyed me and her mother,” he said simply. “We do not support her lifestyle. We offered her a chance to come home and do things the right way: go back to school, study something real, and get a financially stable job. She refused. She insisted on pursuing her art.”

  “Because she loves it,” I said without thinking.

  “Regardless,” Daniel said shortly. “We will not support her in her frivolous art career. This Jeep was bought for her by me. Now I’m taking it back.”

  “But she won’t have a car.” I snapped. “You’re essentially leaving her stranded.”

  “That’s not your concern,” Daniel said, his voice devoid of any emotion.

  I stared at him in shock. He looked back at me with a blank expression. I wanted to lunge across the counter and throttle him, but I knew that wasn’t an emotion. This man was obviously an uncaring, unsympathetic, sociopath. If he was willing to leave his own daughter stranded in a strange city, then he didn’t have a compassionate bone in his body. Nothing I said to him would change his mind.

  So, I fell silent and nodded. He nodded back and walked outside, climbing into his Denali and pulling out of the parking lot. It wasn’t more than five minutes later before a tow truck pulled in and the driver jumped out.

  I was still standing in the office, unable to move after my encounter with Daniel Storm. My anger was boiling just below the surface, and when the tow truck driver asked for the Jeep, I almost punched him.

  It took everything in me not to beat the shit out of this innocent man. Instead, I clenched my fists and gestured toward the open garage. The Jeep was sitting at the far end, totally accessible. The driver nodded his thanks and went out to load it up. I watched while he attached the Jeep to his truck and drove it away without another word.

  It killed me that I couldn’t do anything to stop him but what choice did I have? If I fought Daniel or the driver, my business would be ruined. I couldn’t risk that, no matter how badly I wanted to. Instead, I just stood there. My fists were still clenched at my sides, and I could feel my heart pounding in my ears. I’d never felt such a strong surge of anger in my life.

  I saw red as I slowly made my way back to the garage. I knew I should call Olivia or maybe drive over to the hotel to see her but I couldn’t. I was still too angry, and I didn’t want her to see me this way. The last thing she needed right now was for me to fly off the handle, not after everything she’d already been through.

  I threw myself back into my work, driving into the Volvo’s engine and repairing it with lightning speed. While I worked, I didn’t let myself think. I let everything disappear. Olivia. Her father. Her Jeep. Everything. I pounded away in that Volvo until every single repair was done. The sun was beginning to set outside by the time I stood up straight. My back ached, and sweat was pouring down my face, but I didn’t care. I felt better now, more relaxed.

  As I cleaned up, washing my hands and putting away all my tools, I thought about Olivia. I wondered if her father even bothered to see her while he was in town. Did he go by her hotel? Is that how he found out where her car was? Or did he take the coward’s way out and simply call her? Was he afraid to face her while simultaneously destroying her life?

  What kind of father could just walk away from their child? My anger came rushing back as this question played around and around in my head. Daniel Storm, though rich and powerful, reminded me of my own father. That, more than anything, fueled my anger and drove me forward.

  I crashed into the office and quickly locked everything up. I didn’t know what I would do, but I knew I had to do something.

  Chapter 18

  Olivia

  My father’s phone call shook me to my core. He yelled and screamed, which wasn’t anything new, but the finality that he spoke with was enough to shake me. They were done—my parents were done. With me and with my art. They weren’t going to support me in any way if I didn’t agree to go home and start my “real life.” My father raged about how irresponsible I was, how much of a failure I was sure to become.

  “You aren’t talented,” he said on the phone. “If you were, this would be a different conversation. Maybe then we would consider helping you, but what’s the point, Olivia? You’re only going to fail.”

  “You can’t know that,” I argued weakly.

  “I do,” he said. “You’re going to fail. Just come home now. Come back to New York, and we’ll get you back in school. You can still make it as a lawyer or even an accountant.”

  His words hurt me more than anything ever had. I knew my parents didn’t support my art career. They never had. But to hear him tell me I would fail was heartbreaking. No matter how many times they yelled and screamed at me, this was the worst.

  Part of me wanted to give in, to just let him have his way. Maybe then he would finally be proud of me. Still, I knew I couldn’t do that. I would hate myself forever if I walked away from my dream of becoming an artist. I loved to paint and to sketch. My life was my art. I couldn’t turn my back on it any more than I could magically become someone else. It wasn’t possible and more than that. I didn’t want it to be.

  My art was what kept me sane throughout my entire life. When my parents neglected me, I turned to art. I’d been drawing for as long as I could remember, and when I first held a paintbrush, I finally felt at home. This was more than my passion, more than a hobby. It was my entire life, and no matter what my father said, I couldn’t turn my back on it. I just couldn’t.

  “I’m sorry,” I said softly. “I’m sorry, Dad. I can’t. I can’t do what you’re asking.”

  “Then we won’t help you anymore,” he said simply. “Not with money. Not with anything.”

  He hung up the phone, and I broke down on that bench. There were a thousand things I wanted to do, but I didn’t know where to begin. I thought about calling him back and begging him to understand. I even considered calling my mother, but I knew she would have the same response as my father. My mind turned quickly to Brad. I knew he would comfort me, but I wasn’t ready to face him yet. Not while I was still this upset.

  Instead, I went to the one person I knew might understand. Carla’s. I wasn’t scheduled to work that day, but it didn’t matter. I needed her wisdom. I needed a fellow artist to reassure me, to promise me everything would be okay.

  I walked through the doors, letting the door slam shut behind me. Carla looked up with a smile on her face, ready to greet a customer. When she saw me, the smile faded slightly, and she waved me over.

  “What is it?” she asked immediately. “What happened?”

  Carla wrapped her arms around my shoulder and led me behind the counter. She held on to me while I told her about my father. I cried and sobbed, letting out every emotion I’d ever felt. She stroked my hair and handed me tissue after tissue while I desperately tried to explain everything that happened.

  “I don’t know how it got this bad,” I said through my sobs. “My parents never supported my dreams but this? They didn’t just cut me off financially. They cut me off from everything. From the family. My dad said they won’t do anything for me now—nothing. He said they don’t even want to know me anymore. How could he say that? What kind of father could say that to his only child?”

  “A shitty one,” Carla said firmly. “He’s a piece of shit, Olivia. They both are.”

  “What am I going to do now?” I asked weakly. “How am I going to make it without a family?”

  “You’re going to pick yourself up,” Carla said, wiping my cheek. “And you’re going to channel all these emotions into your work. No matter what happens, you are an artist, Olivia. I see it every single day. Your work is incredible.”

  “I don’t know…” I began, but she shook her head firmly.

  “Listen to me,” she said. “I’ve been doing this for a long time, sweetheart. A long time. I know talent when I see it, and you are talented. Your father? He’s an idiot. He wouldn’t recognize true potential if it came up and kicked him in the balls.
”

  I laughed and sniffed, wiping my eyes and letting Carla’s words soothe me. She was right, about my father at least. He wasn’t exactly the artistic type. If he didn’t think I had talent, who cares? He didn’t know anything about it, so why was I letting him get in my head?

  I shook myself and groaned deeply. Even before my father called this morning, I knew I would be on my own for a while. They already canceled my credit cards. Financially, I’d been on my own since I arrived in Santa Fe. The only difference was, now I felt alone. I felt like an orphan, wandering around the streets without a family to go home to. That fact, more than anything, was what weakened me. It hit me in the stomach with a painful punch and left me heaving, unable to move forward.

  Carla kept stroking my hair and whispering words of encouragement, but I barely heard her. I wanted to believe he was right but it was hard.

  A few minutes later, we both jumped when the first door banged open. Looking up, I saw Brad hurrying toward me with a look of concern on his face. The sun was already beginning to set outside the window. I didn’t realize how late it had gotten.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked, jumping to my feet.

  “Your father came to the garage earlier today,” Brad said quickly. “He paid for the Jeep and then took it with him. He said he was having it towed back to New York.”

  I nodded and sighed, my father had already said as much on the phone. He didn’t say he was going to leave me stranded, but I wasn’t surprised. When the Storms gave up on someone, they really gave up on them.

  “I’m sorry,” Brad said desperately. “I didn’t know what to do. I was just so angry that he would do that. I didn’t have a choice. I had to let him take it.”

  “It’s not your fault,” I said, reaching for his hand. “This is my father. This is how he does things.”

  “Still,” Brad said, “I should have done something, anything, to stop him. He didn’t have the right to take your car!”

  “He did,” I said with a nod. “He paid for it.”

  “It’s such bullshit,” Brad said angrily.

  I smiled and sighed. He was right. It was bullshit, but I had bigger concerns now. Like what I was going to do with the rest of my life.

  “I just don’t know where to go from here,” I said softly. “I knew I would be on my own for a while but deep down, I always thought I would have them there to help if things got bad. Like, if I really needed the money, they would provide it. Now that comfort is gone, and all that’s left is me. Just me.”

  “You can do this,” Brad said quickly, squeezing my hand. “I know you can.”

  “How?” I asked, looking from him to Carla and back again.

  “You rely on your talent,” Carla said simply. “You paint with everything you have, and then we’ll display those paintings here. Plus, there’s a local farmer’s market that will let you set up a booth. I’ve sold there a few times myself. You can make pretty good money in just one afternoon.”

  “Do you really think I can do that?” I asked. “That I can make a living off my art?”

  Carla nodded, and Brad did the same. They both looked at me with a confidence I’d never seen before. No one had ever supported or encouraged me the way they were now. I felt my chest grow warm as I took in their faces, wanting to remember this moment forever.

  Whatever else happened, at least I had two people in my corner. That was more than most people had and I felt lucky.

  Chapter 19

  Brad

  That weekend, Olivia and I went to the farmer’s market first thing in the morning. The place wasn’t open yet, and very few people were around. Olivia’s hands were shaking as she set up her booth, laying out her paintings with precision. I could tell she was nervous, but as I looked at her work, I knew she didn’t need to be. Her paintings were amazing. They were incredible, and I knew everyone would see that. She wouldn’t have any trouble making enough money for an apartment.

  As the morning progressed, people began to filter into the market. Other booths had opened up all around us, but Olivia’s was by far the favorite. People came by, stopping to stare and often ask questions about different pieces. Olivia looked nervous the entire time but when she talked about her art, a calm spread over her face that made her look even more beautiful. She was in her element, doing exactly what she loved to do. Watching her was an incredible experience for me. Her eyes lit up, and her smile was radiant. When she got her first sale, she squealed with delight and wrapped her arms around my neck.

  The happiness that radiated off her was contagious, and soon I found myself laughing and talking with all the patrons as well. I bragged around different paintings, pointing out my favorites and pushing people to buy more. I didn’t know anything about art but I knew what I liked, and Olivia’s paintings were it. Each new one I saw, impressed me. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from them, and when the day finally ended, very few were left on the table.

  Turning to face Olivia, I saw that she was still smiling. She packed up her remaining paintings and tucked all her money in her purse. She hadn’t yet counted it, and I knew she would want to get back to the hotel before she did. Her nerves were still fried after everything with her dad. I didn’t blame her. Just thinking about that man sent a white-hot rage flooding through my veins that I couldn’t control. I hated him more than I’d ever hated anyone in my life, including my own father. I knew if I ever saw him again, I wouldn’t be able to control myself.

  Once everything was packed away, Olivia and I jumped in my truck and headed back to the hotel. She was silent on the ride, pulling out her money and counting it quickly. Her eyes lit up the more she counted, and soon she was laughing softly to herself. When she finished, she rolled up the cash and tucked it safely in her purse. She glanced out the window with a strange look on her face.

  “What’s up?” I asked.

  “I just can’t believe this is real,” she said softly. “That I did it. I actually sold my paintings.”

  “You kicked serious ass today,” I said.

  “I did, didn’t I?” She laughed. “I made more than enough to get settled. I can definitely afford first and last on that apartment we saw yesterday.”

  “Yeah.” I nodded, but my mind was spinning. I knew Olivia wanted to get her own place. She needed somewhere to stay, and it only made sense for her to move in somewhere near Carla’s gallery. Still, the idea of her leaving the hotel for a random apartment made my stomach tighten.

  An idea popped into my head that surprised me, but once it took root, I couldn’t shake it. I thought about it all the way back to Olivia’s hotel room. As I helped her unload her paintings, I realized I didn’t want to unload them. Instead, I wanted to grab the rest of her things and throw them in my truck. I wanted to drive her back to my apartment and get her settled there, with me.

  “Listen,” I said as we climbed the stairs. “I know you liked that apartment we saw yesterday, but I’ve been thinking… I have an extra room at my place.”

  Olivia stopped walking and turned to face me. Her eyes were wide, and I laughed at her shock because, just minutes before, I’d shocked myself just as much.

  “I know it sounds crazy, but I just… I like the idea of having you around more often. I’d love it if you moved in with me. My bed is big enough for two, but if you aren’t comfortable with that, I do have a spare bedroom,” I said.

  “Are you sure about this?” Olivia asked.

  “I am,” I said without hesitation. “I really am.”

  “Then my answer is yes,” Olivia said with excitement. “Of course, yes.”

  I grinned and picked her up, hugging her tightly and spinning her in a quick circle. We were both laughing as we hurried up the stairs to her room. Together, we packed up her things and loaded them into my truck. After Olivia checked out of the hotel, we drove through town toward my apartment. It wasn’t far, just five minutes from the shop and even closer to Carla’s gallery. I knew it was the perfect place for Olivia to be
.

  Once we got there, we unloaded Olivia’s things, and she took a look around. I forgot she hadn’t been to my place yet. I worried she might not like it, but the smile on her face eased my concerns.

  “So where should I put these? My room or the spare room?” I asked.

  I held up her bags. She looked at me and then at them, a coy smile playing at the corners of her mouth. She didn’t answer. Instead, she walked slowly over to me and pulled the bags from my hands, letting them fall to the floor with a soft thud. Before I knew it, her lips were on mine, and I couldn’t think. My hands grasped at her body, holding her to with desperation.

  Everything about that night was a blur of naked passion. I led Olivia to my bedroom, tearing her clothes off as we moved. Her hands tore at my body, ripping away my own clothes and throwing them to the floor. We fell on to my bed and ravished each other’s bodies without pause. I kissed every inch of her I could reach while she bit and clawed at my skin. We were animals at that moment, not caring about anything but our frantic need for one another.

  Olivia writhed and moaned while I kissed my way down her body, licking her nipples and sliding my fingers between her soft, wet folds. I brought her to orgasm with my fingers, watching her gorgeous face contort with pleasure. When a rush of pleasure pooled between her legs, I slid my cock inside of her, eager to fill her up.

  She moaned and cried out, clinging to me and kissed my lips with abandon. She rolled us over, pinning me to the bed and riding me hard and fast. I watched her perfect tits bounce, and the sight was more than I could take. I came so hard that I flipped Olivia over, crawling on top of her and thrusting a few more times before my pleasure overtook me.

  We weren’t done. The rest of the night was spent worshipping each other’s bodies. We took short breaks, kissing and holding each other before our bodies reignited and we slammed into each other with passion and lust. I’d never felt more connected to another person, and I thought I never would be.