Big Bad Fake Groom: A Billionaire's Virgin Romance

by Tia Siren

  The priest opened his arms to us and started to speak. I could tell his words were beautiful and moving, but I could not hear any of them. I was totally lost in Jesse’s eyes.

  Then, as if from a distance, I heard the priest say, “Do you, Jesse Terrence Valen, take Mary Elizabeth Taft to be your lawfully wedded wife, promising to love and cherish, through joy and sorrow, sickness and health, and whatever challenges you may face, for as long as you both shall live?”

  “I do,” said Jesse, and it was like a sweet rumble of thunder on a hot summer’s night.

  The priest then turned to me. “And do you, Mary Elizabeth Taft, take Jesse Terrence Valen to be your lawfully wedded husband, promising to love and cherish, through joy and sorrow, sickness and health, and whatever challenges you may face, for as long as you both shall live?”

  “I do,” I whispered. For some reason, even though we were in a closed room, I suddenly felt like I was standing under the sun with a gentle breeze blowing against my skin.

  Jesse and I smiled at each other as the priest said, “I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

  And, as if we had never kissed before and were enjoying each other’s touch for the first time, we kissed. It was incredible, like two beings being swept together, intertwined, woven in and out of each other’s souls until there was no difference between us.

  “I love you,” I murmured as we pulled apart.

  “I love you, too,” Jesse—my Jesse Valen—whispered back as our foreheads rested against each other’s.

  The audience erupted into cheers as we turned to face them for the first time as Mr. and Mrs. Jesse Valen.

  The rest of the wedding passed in a happy blur. Although my memory was somewhat splotchy, I remembered all my friends and loved ones kissing and congratulating us. I remembered members of the New York Jets lifting Jesse up on their shoulders and carrying him around as if he weighed nothing, and my new husband getting protective when they tried to do the same to me.

  My clearest memory of the ceremony, however, was a conversation we had with Bill near the end of the night. Jesse sat down beside him, sweaty, exhausted, but handsome as ever, and clapped Bill on the back.

  “I’m so glad you came, my friend,” he said, his sincerity as great as his grin.

  Bill smiled as well, but his was shy and almost embarrassed. “Me, too.”

  “Now that we’re speaking again, I wanted to talk to you about an opportunity you might be interested in.” Both Bill’s and my brows furrowed at Jesse’s words as he continued, “I’m good friends with a coach from the minor leagues. I told him your story and how good you were in high school, and he’s willing to give you a try for next season. Obviously, you’ll have to get back in shape and do some training, but the opportunity is there if you’re interested.”

  A smile spread across Bill’s face. It was the first unfettered, genuine smile I’d seen him give in a long time.

  “Hell yes!” he exclaimed and poured himself another drink. Just then, one of my good-looking waitressing friends walked over and asked him for a dance. I was thrilled to watch his smile grow even broader.

  Choking up with emotion, I made my way outside. Although mine were tears of happiness, of course, I knew they’d ruin my makeup just the same and therefore I didn’t want anyone to see them. As I breathed deeply, gaining control of my joy, I surveyed the outside of the restaurant where I’d spent so many nights smoking cigarettes with my friends and talking about impossible dreams. It made my heart flutter as I realized that mine had come true.

  I was going to be a mother. I was married to the most amazing man in the world. I was getting to be friends with my brother again, even after everything that had happened.

  Just as I relished on that wonderfulness, Jesse appeared and broke through my reverie. With his hands in his tuxedo pockets, he leaned on the wall beside me.

  “You needed a break too, huh?” he asked, wrapping his arm around my shoulder.

  I chuckled. “Not a break, exactly. More like…some time for reflection.”

  “I see…and what were you reflecting about?”

  “Just that there’s nothing in the world that could ever make me happier than I am at this moment. This is the best night of my life.”

  I expected him to be moved, or serious, or at least sincere. However, when I looked at him, I saw a teasing, humorous, cocky grin.

  “What?” I demanded, baffled.

  “I can think of something that would make this night even better,” he said.

  “What?” I asked, genuinely confused.

  He took my hand in his and, at first, brought it to his lips. He gave me a gentle kiss, like a proper gentleman. Then, with one quick swoop, he brought my appendage down between his legs and pressed it against his hardening cock.

  “That,” his murmured.

  I grinned as a devilish pleasure blossomed inside me, and asked, “To the hotel?”

  “To the hotel.”

  Chapter 13

  Approximately Eight Months Later

  “Come on, Jesse. Hurry up. We’re going to be late!” I called to my husband, squeezing my way out the front door. It was ironic that he should be the one holding us up, considering I was roughly the size and shape of a beluga whale.

  “You got everything?” he asked, heaving our cooler into his brand new family car.

  “Yes,” I groaned, feigning annoyance at his concern.

  “Your cell phone?”

  “Yes.”

  “The charger?”

  “Yes.”

  “The doctor’s emergency number?”

  “Yes! Jesse, it’ll be fine.”

  He inhaled and exhaled deeply. “I know,” he said shaking his head. “It’s funny. The biggest tackles in the NFL don’t scare me as much as your belly does right now.”

  I chuckled. My due date was three days ago, and since then, Jesse’s nervousness had only increased. Still, I felt fine, and neither of us wanted to miss the big night. Therefore, we piled into the car, buckled ourselves in—me with some difficulty considering the size of my stomach—and set off.

  The game was only twenty minutes away. I was excited, but not as much as Jesse, I thought. I don’t believe that even the actual players and fans were as excited as him.

  Once we finally arrived at the stadium, I was impressed with how many people there were. Obviously, the crowd wasn’t a massive as an NFL game, but it was still impressive. Jesse had gotten us awesome seats right up against the field, so we were able to see every player pour into the stadium.

  “Can you see him? Can you see him?” Jesse demanded, practically leaping out of his seat.

  “There he is.” I cried. “There he is! Bill! Hey, Bill!”

  The fanfare of the marching band and the height of the excitement was too great for Bill to hear me. But I continued to yell and wave my hands as he ran out with the rest of his team, his helmet on and his shoulder pads making him look enormous.

  “I’m so proud of him,” I exclaimed, grinning so hard it hurt.

  “Me too,” Jesse yelled and then kissed me. “Look, honey. Look! I think he’s starting!”

  Sure enough, Bill walked onto the field as part of the starting lineup, looking slightly nervous but still tall and athletic and wonderful.

  The whistle blew. The game was on!

  “Go, Bill! Go! Go!” Jesse screamed, practically hanging over the end of his seat as a play placed the ball in Bill’s hands. The crowd erupted in cheers, and I assumed he scored a touchdown.

  One I, unfortunately, did not see.

  “Mary, honey?” Jesse asked, noticing my pallor. “What’s wrong?”

  I looked down between my legs in horror and amazement. Then, in a surprisingly calm tone, I said, “I think my water broke.”

  Jesse blinked dumbly at me for a second. “Your water broke? Oh, shit! Your water broke! We gotta get you to the hospital right now!”

  “That would be the plan,” I said mildly, smili
ng at him.

  Completely frantic, he scooped up all our things in a single sweep of his arms and asked, “Can you walk?”

  Carefully, I tested my legs and was glad when I realized they were working properly.

  “Yes, they’re fine. Wet, but fine,” I said thoroughly embarrassed about the big wet spot on my pants.

  Always considerate, Jesse quickly pulled his sweatshirt up over his head and handed it to me. I tied it around my waist to hide the mess, and together we made our way to the car.

  Giving birth was hard, though not as hard as some of the stories I had read online. Thank goodness! As for Jesse, he was a trooper. He stood beside me the whole time, holding my hand and cheering me on as if I were playing a football game and not pushing a human out of my vagina, but it was sweet, and I loved him for it. When the time came, he even waited between my legs to catch the baby.

  In a red blur of pain, I felt a sense of massive, slipping relief and heard the squeal of the baby. Jesse emerged a couple seconds later, holding the little, bloodstained thing in his arms.

  “What is it?” I asked. “A boy or girl?”

  “A boy,” he said, his voice trembling with awe.

  “A boy…is he healthy? Let me see.”

  “Looks like it,” the doctor replied, appearing behind Jesse. “Ten fingers and ten toes, just as it should be.”

  “Good,” I said as Jesse placed the little nugget into my arms.

  As I looked down at my son, tears filled my eyes. He was by far the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen in my entire life. My heart swelled with the intensity of the love I felt for him. It was different than any sort of love I’d felt before. I loved Jesse, of course, and Bill, but this…nothing, anywhere, could ever compare.

  “We have a son,” I said completely in awe.

  “Yep, we do,” Jesse replied with a trembling voice.

  I kissed my son’s deliciously yucky head before handing him to the waiting nurse. Then, I passed out from exertion.

  When I finally woke up, we were in a room, and Jesse was sitting on the edge of my bed with our baby in his arms. It was, undoubtedly, the sexiest sight in the world.

  “Two of my favorite boys,” I said.

  Jesse took his eyes from our baby to look at me. “One of them needs a name.”

  “That he does,” I agree as I took him from my husband’s arms. He looked so peaceful sleeping with his tiny hand pressed against the side of his bald head.

  A knock at the door interrupted our little family moment. Both of us turned to the door as a nurse poked her head in to tell us that there was a family member here to see us. Confused, we told the nurse to let them in.

  Seconds later, Bill entered the room. He was in a clean hospital uniform, but the dirt smudged on his cheek showed that he had in fact just been playing football.

  “Bill!” I exclaimed. “You’re supposed to be at your game.”

  “Please, little sis!” He laughed. “You’re the most important thing in the world to me.”

  “Actually,” Jesse said, “I’m really glad you’re here. We were just having a crucial conversation. We could use your input.”

  “Oh, yeah? What’s that?”

  “We were discussing what to name him,” Jesse explained.

  But I interrupted. “There’s no discussion, I know what to call him, already,” I said. “I want to name him after the two most important men in my life: Jesse William Valen.”

  “Jesse William Valen,” my husband echoed, the words sounding wonderful on his lips.

  “Jesse William Valen,” Bill said. “I love it. It’s perfect.”

  The two of them leaned in close and hugged me tight. The four of us—me, Jesse, Bill, and the baby—held each other close, relishing in the warmth and love of family.

  THE END

  Big Bad Neighbor Sneak Peak

  Chapter 1 - Jenna

  How did my life get so screwed up?

  I tapped a finger against the porch railing. It was in dire need of stain, and the picket fence surrounding the small front lawn needed some white paint. The flower beds were dry and dead. The grass was dead in the front and the backyard. The inside of the house fared no better either. The carpets needed to be ripped out, the hardwood floors restored, and every room needed to be swept and scrubbed down.

  This was what my life had become over the past few months— run-down and in desperate need of fixing. My heart ached just thinking of the past year. Gone. Wasted. It tasted bitter at the back of my throat.

  The small neighborhood was quiet against the backdrop of a buzzing Denver. I gazed along the shaded street while waiting for my mom’s esteemed realtor to arrive and hand over the keys. My dad’s small inheritance he had left behind for me in case of an emergency had paid for this house and a few small repairs that needed to be done. Everything else would somehow be up to me to figure out.

  A job would be the next thing to look for. The shelter back in California had given me a basic flip phone to contact my mom with. My books, computer, iPhone, and clothes were all locked up in Leon’s apartment still. I paid for it, so it’s mine, not yours. That had been his response when I’d asked him to send my things through the mail. I had even offered to wire over a small bit of money for him to do it, but he’d only take the money. If he couldn’t hold me hostage, he’d hold my possessions hostage.

  I sighed inwardly. How I ended up with someone like Leon was beyond me. A wolf dressed like a sheep was how I had described it to the shelter. Nothing about him screamed danger. He had charmed the hell out of me my freshman year of college. He had been the man on campus then. I had been the quiet book nerd looking to enjoy a few California sunrays. Colossal disaster. I still had the bruises on my arms and legs to prove it.

  Those dark and horrible memories tickled the back of my head. I swiped at them in annoyance, tugging the long curls of my hair out of my hair clip. Don’t think about it. Just ignore it. Keep going forward like they said.

  “Hello there!”

  I blinked to find a middle-aged woman in a knee-length floral dress standing on the other side of the fence. She smiled kindly at me with her dark hair pulled back in a bun. A little girl clung to her hand, impatiently tugging at her mother’s arm.

  “Hello,” I said, forcing a smile.

  The woman put a hand on the gate to open it. That was when I caught sight of the casserole dish in the palm of her hand. I stepped down from the porch to open the gate for her.

  “Very kind of you,” she said, beaming. “I’m Martha Smith. I live four doors down. This is my daughter, Julie.” She ran a hand down Julie’s dark locks fondly. “She’s one of the youngsters you’ll see running around here.”

  “Hi,” Julie said.

  “Hi,” I parroted back.

  “We wanted to bring you this,” Martha continued, holding out the casserole dish. “We heard from the realtor that you would be moving in today but had no working appliances just yet. I do hope you have something to sleep on besides that nasty carpet in there.”

  I took ahold of the casserole dish. The smell of chicken and rice filled my nose. My stomach gave an appreciative rumble.

  “Thank you,” I said, holding the fine ceramic carefully in my arms. “I have an air mattress in my car that I’ll sleep on tonight. The rest of my furniture will be here tomorrow hopefully.”

  “Oh, good. I’m so glad someone bought this house. The last occupants didn’t take care of it at all, as you probably know.” Martha’s eyes raked me up and down then. They settled on the bruises on my forearms, and I couldn’t tuck them away with the casserole dish in my arms. Thankfully, she looked away a second later. “You look so young to be buying a house. How old are you?”

  “I’m twenty-three,” I said, uncomfortable with that knowing look in her eyes. “Thank you again for the casserole, Ms. Smith. It smells good.”

  “Call me Martha,” she said airily. “It makes me feel old when you say my name that way.”

  “Right. Mart
ha—”

  The roar of a diesel truck interrupted us. I glanced over my shoulder to see a tall and strong man hop out from the driver’s side. My heart gave a start when he swept an icy gaze across me and Martha. His blond hair was tousled back sexily. Muscles strained against the cuffs of his gray shirt. I glimpsed a cross tattoo on his right forearm before he turned on his heel to walk around the truck to the passenger side.

  “That’s Derek Summers,” Martha whispered to me, leaning over the fence slightly. The passenger door opened, and a little boy jumped out a second later. He pretended to crash roll on the driveway before scrambling to his feet. “That’s his boy, Owen. He goes to school with Julie.”

  Julie gave an impatient whine then. “Moommm. Can I ask Owen to play before dinner?”

  “Maybe, honey,” Martha said placidly. “That depends on Owen’s dad.”

  “Why are you whispering?” I asked.

  Martha blinked. “Am I?” She laughed lightly. “I supposed it’s habit, dear. Derek over there is a bit of a grump over noise, so I suggest you keep it down.”

  “I’m not loud.”

  “Mooomm!”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake!” Martha took a step back from the gate to call out in exasperation. “Derek! Does Owen have time to play before dinner?”

  The little boy immediately stopped at the question. He turned to look up at Derek with a hopeful expression.

  Derek shook his head, placing a hand on Owen’s shoulder. His gaze skimmed over us indifferently.

  “Not tonight, Martha,” he said, his husky timbre filling the summer air. “Owen has homework he needs to finish. Have a good night.”

  The curtness threw me a little. I looked over at Martha, who didn’t seem too surprised or bothered by it. She caught sight of my expression.

  “You’ll get used to him,” she said. “He’s a bit rough around the edges, but he’s quite helpful when you need him. He’s just an ass at times.” Her nose crinkled. “Don’t expect him to be around at night though.”

  I couldn’t help it. Curiosity got the better of me. “Where does he go at night?”