Insta-Hubby (A Billionaire Fake Relationship Romance)

by Lauren Milson

  But not now. I hover in the doorway.

  A man my size and my age, and I think I’ve seen him around somewhere but I don’t know where, and he’s talking in a hushed but frenetic voice to the man with the red, ruddy, round cheeks who’s hovering in front of a darkened room, the door cracked behind him, but letting no light out.

  And then there’s the girl.

  They’re discussing her, and only a blade the size of the moon could slice the tension in the room. Her long brown hair is pulled into a tight chignon at the base of her skull. Her skin is like fucking porcelain. And her long neck is elegant and pure, like that of a dancer’s and I harden to fucking steel at the thought of my thumb tracing a line from behind her ear down her throat like the sick fuck that I am.

  Her eyes flicker up to mine. Carefully. The room is dim, just at the edge of too dark, and her eyes flash to mine and the corner of her mouth pricks up.

  The two men may be discussing her without considering what she wants to say, but their eyes are on her. And when she looks at me, their eyes follow her line of vision and they look at me, too.

  The larger man sizes me up in an instant and in one movement crosses the floor and takes the young brunette by the arm.

  “You’re a distraction,” he says, tossing her down the dark hallway to his left. He turns his attention back to the younger man. I don’t make a move, because I don’t want to draw any unwanted attention to myself, but god help the next man who touches her like that. “She won’t be a problem again. Your appointment will be comped. I can book another room for you right now.”

  His tone edges toward combustion, frantic energy coiling up inside it with each word. He’s about to explode.

  There’s a young blonde girl at the front desk. Younger than the girl who has been tossed down the hallway, discarded, made to be out of sight. She’s twenty, maybe. Maybe.

  “Sir,” she says cheerfully. Her expression does not match her tone. Her tone doesn’t match her words. “May I ask if you have an appointment?”

  She slinks out from behind the desk as the young man and the large man disappear behind the door the large man hovered near. He is the owner, clearly, or maybe just the man who runs shit for the owner, and he wants to make sure he has another happy customer.

  She begins to walk behind me, her eyes on mine, and I instinctively shrug my overcoat off my shoulders. She takes it gracefully and walks over to a hidden coat closet.

  I’ve still said nothing. The other two men are speaking loudly behind the closed door; I can hear their shouts as though they’re whispers.

  And my mind is on the brunette.

  The blonde girl with the sharp features and the big brown eyes waves her hand to a long, low-slung grey couch against the left wall. I sit and another woman comes over with a short glass of something warm and brown.

  The door behind the front desk opens and the younger man strides out of the place, hunched over slightly, muttering under his breath.

  The larger man waits a beat and comes out of the office and walks down the dark hallway.

  My gut lurches. My body follows my gut. I stand, and I begin to follow the man.

  I turn the corner after the man and we both see the woman at the same time. The lights back here are brighter, but she glowed even in the darkness.

  Her eyes take him in first, and then glide past him to me. I steady my jaw and tip my chin down, silently telling her to not say anything. Her boss is seething with blind rage, and I don’t want to startle him.

  “Did you say no?” he repeats again, walking toward her slowly.

  “I didn’t say anything,” she snaps, but her body softens under the words as she completes them. Her eyes flicker to mine and back to her boss’.

  Good girl.

  “I’m sorry. There was a misunderstanding.”

  “You know I took a chance on you,” he says, stepping closer to her. “And you know I have to let you go. We can’t afford to have the customers leave unsatisfied.”

  He takes one more step toward him and slips his finger under her chin, lifting it up so her dazzling eyes are looking right at him. My chest contracts and heat rushes through my veins.

  “I’m leaving,” she says, shaking free of his touch and backing away. Her back hits the tall, dented metal locker behind her. She turns quickly, opening the locker, and takes out a duffel bag. “Can’t you see I’m just trying to get the hell out of here?”

  “Oh, baby, Avery” the man croaks, “I’m afraid it won’t be that simple. You have a contract. The terms of which dictate that if you leave of your own volition or are terminated for any reason prior to the completion of one year of tenure, you will be liable for paying back your advance.”

  She turns around slowly.

  “Please,” she says. Her voice is small. It’s so small.

  “What?”

  He takes one more step toward her.

  I’m happy she is speaking up for herself.

  But now I can’t stand by any longer.

  “Excuse me,” I say, my voice low and steady.

  The man turns, his face contorted into a wicked expression. I’m thankful she isn’t seeing his face like that anymore. Ugly, angry. Her eyes shouldn’t see something like that.

  Her thoughts shouldn’t be polluted by him.

  “Hey, how the hell did you get back here?” he says, pushing his rimless glasses up his nose with his chubby index finger.

  “Sorry, I guess I got lost. You should really have better security if you don’t want people back here.” I throw a thumb over my shoulder.

  If he doesn’t want people back here, he really should hire security.

  He sizes me up. His fucking tone changes.

  “Sir, if you wouldn’t mind going back to the waiting area. One of our girls will be with you in just a moment.”

  “I don’t want one of your girls,” I say. The beautiful brunette behind him perks up slightly, stands up a little bit taller. But her face doesn’t change. She is still like stone. Her lips are still turned down at the corners.

  “How can we be of service, then?” he asks.

  “Oh, you can certainly be of service. But I don’t want just any of your girls. I want her.”

  My eyes narrow on the girl.

  “It’s Avery, right?”

  She doesn’t belong here. I don’t know what the fuck she’s doing here. Clearly she doesn’t want to be here, because she just got herself fired, whether it was on purpose or not. Either way, she doesn’t belong to them anymore.

  “Yes,” the man replies, his eyes flashing between us. “That’s Avery. She’s a very sweet girl. Beautiful, too. Just look at her. But you’d have to be beautiful to be a hostess here.”

  “I thought you just fired her,” I challenge him.

  “Oh, no.” He waves the air in front of his face with one hand.

  “I don’t like being told I’m wrong,” I say, “especially when I know what I saw.”

  The man chuckles nervously.

  “I was just reminding Avery of the terms of her contract,” he says, voice shaking. His eyes shift left and right. He is looking at nothing and at everything all at once. A sheen of sweat begins to plump up along his hairline.

  Avery looks at me silently. There’s that secret behind her eyes, still. If I could just unravel it...just find the edge of it and pull and make her come undone. Unwind her. Unravel her.

  Make her mine.

  It would be a beautiful sight to behold.

  “How much to buy her out?” I ask.

  Her eyes widen and her mouth pops open slightly. I’m already thinking about what I could do to her mouth, what I would tell her to do with her lips.

  “What?” she asks quietly.

  “She’s worth more than her contract,” the man says, arching an eyebrow. “I don’t think I want to sell. She’s more valuable to me here than the money in my pocket would be.”

  “I’m not for sale,” Avery protests, shocked, her mouth agape.
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  “Excuse me,” I say, stepping toward her. “I’m not trying to buy you. I’m trying to buy your freedom. Now if you don’t want that, I’ll leave. But I won’t leave unless you tell me to, in no uncertain terms. You just say the word, and I’ll go. You can stay here without me, and you can work off the debt you’ll owe in accordance with your contract. Or you can come with me.”

  Her jaw tightens slightly and her fingers come up to her lips, tracing the edge like a goddess dragging a lazy finger along the edge of the ocean’s shore.

  Avery

  My head is spinning.

  I noticed him when he came in from the cold. God, I noticed him right away. How could I not have? He brought the cold with him, but he also brought something else, too. I don’t think anyone else noticed him, or if they did, they pretended not to. But I heard the pounding of the ice pellets on the asphalt outside when the door opened. I heard the chime of the bells over the door, heralding his arrival.

  Dark leather, deep whiskey. Tobacco leaves and spearmint. His scent was more intoxicating and intense than his appearance.

  His energy is as intense now, standing before me, as it was when I first saw him. Not quite menacing, but it could be. Not quite frightening, but almost.

  But I’m not scared.

  I don’t think I’m scared.

  Not of him, at least.

  “I’m not a slave,” I say, “so while I understand your position - that you are looking to purchase my freedom, not purchase me per se - my freedom isn’t for sale. It’s mine. I possess it. I’m already free.”

  “You might think so,” the man towering over me says, “but the way I see it, if you leave this room without me, the man who owns this place will have recourse to force you to repay what you owe. And how are you going to do that, sweetheart?”

  His voice now darkens, tempting me toward it. Toward the edge, where darkness and light collide. That line of difference where light bleeds into the darkness and darkness infiltrates the light.

  “Are you threatening me?” I toe the line. I allow myself to go right up to the edge.

  I don’t know if this man wants to rescue me or ruin me.

  Either way, he happens to be correct about the money. How would I repay my advance? It is a lot of money.

  If you complete your contract, it is retroactively a gift, and you are free to leave without repaying it. Of course, I know that many of the girls working here have been here for quite a few years, much longer than the one year that’s required. Other girls, though, leave abruptly, suddenly. I’ve only been here a few months and I’ve already seen a score of us leave.

  If you do not complete your contract, the advance is retroactively a loan.

  The contract is not vague. It is crystal-clear, and iron-clad, and contained within it is an NDA that we are required to sign upon our hiring.

  What the contract doesn’t mention is the exact requirements of the job. It doesn’t go into any level of detail about the expectations. What the clients want. What we are assumed to provide.

  “I am not threatening you,” he says. “I’m asking you a serious question. How do you think you’re going to repay what you owe if you don’t allow me to buy you out?”

  Heat rises through my body, through my core, flipping over inside my stomach. Deep inside...lower. Heat swims through me. Somewhere I can’t name.

  Do I have any other choice than to go with him?

  But I can’t. I don’t know what going with him would mean. And that - that is what terrifies me the most.

  “I’ll figure it out.”

  I shove the last of my personal items into my duffel bag and slam the locker closed behind me, shouldering past the man and my boss.

  It won’t be easy. It will be beyond not easy. I have bills - serious bills. Bills that remind me of things I don’t want to think of. Things that I’m reminded me of every single day, things that I wouldn’t be able to put out of my mind even if I didn’t have these bills.

  The bills are just the knife in my gut. The fact that they’re late and I have debt collectors calling me every day asking me to remit payment is the turning of the blade.

  But I will figure this out. I have no other choice.

  I get outside and hesitate for a moment, huddling beneath the old, rusted metal awning over the front door. The afternoon’s snow turned into freezing rain and has now transitioned back into ice. My hot breath is all around me, hanging in the air.

  Taking a few crunching steps toward the corner, I can see Canal Street in the distance. Cars are moving slowly, cabs weave left and right through them, aggressively finding their way, groping along the wide thoroughfare.

  Then the lights in the distance slip up through my field of vision. The snowy ground rises to meet me as I slide and fall, landing, somehow, on an ankle and a knee.

  “Shit,” I mutter. Nothing hurts. It’s too cold to hurt. Maybe my pride is wounded, but no one saw me at least.

  “Avery!”

  In my large puffy coat, and with the inch of flaky snow and inch of ice beneath me, it’s hard to get myself up, though I try to regain a standing position quickly. I can only get to my knees before I look over my shoulder and see that man from the shop jogging up beside me quickly.

  “Don’t run,” I say, “you’re liable to fall yourself.”

  He comes up next to me, slipping one arm under mine, raising me to my feet so easily.

  “You’re okay, Avery,” he says, brushing the snow off my coat. I look up at him, realizing I’m still holding onto him tight.

  His lips perk up into a smile and a small dimple forms in the cleft of his chin.

  “Thank you,” I say. “Thanks.”

  “The pleasure is mine alone,” he says. I feel my heart flutter as my teeth come down on my bottom lip, and I bite down a little harder than I probably should. But I can’t help myself.

  “My car is back there,” he says, pointing over his shoulder.

  “Oh, I...I wasn’t looking for a cab,” I reply, pulling my hat down over my ears. The idea of being alone in a dark, enclosed space with him is tempting. It’s so tempting. I imagine sitting next to him, his scent filling my nose, my lungs, my brain. His fingers gliding across the steering wheel. My mouth waters at the thought and I feel my pussy clench up,empty and...strangely wanting. “I was heading for the subway. I can’t afford a cab. You broke down in detail back there how screwed I am, remember?”

  “That’s why you’re coming with me.”

  “I really don’t need a ride from you,” I say, though my body is betraying my true desires. I won’t let him see, though. I won’t let on that I’m aching for him. Burning. My skin feels cold from the air around it, but inside, I am filled with desire. Heat. It’s almost like pain. I can feel my clit beginning to become engorged, and part of me wants him to know. But I won’t let him.

  “It wasn’t a question,” he says, taking me gently, putting his strong fingers around my upper arm and walking me back down the street. “He won’t come looking for anything else from you, or at least he shouldn’t. If he tries anything, he knows what will happen to him.”

  “What…what the hell are you talking about?”

  My feet feel light as I follow him. I’m not walking as much as I’m gliding, being moved by the strong, magnetic pull of him.

  “Just get inside,” he says.

  He commands.

  I look at the car he’s brought me to. I almost didn’t realize it at first, but it’s actually a limo, all black, with tinted windows.

  I almost want to protest. It feels dangerous, but I don’t feel threatened. It’s like danger is all around me, but I’m insulated from it, somehow. Protected, in some way.

  He opens the back door of the car and I slide in, the supple black leather gliding along my coat, inviting me in warmly. Inside, the car smells like him and a dark sandalwood cologne. It is panty-droppingly sexy in here, and I begin to feel a slight trickle between my legs as I swallow hard. He slides into the sea
t beside me and shuts the door.

  He is sin and sex, and it’s swirling all around me.

  “Drive.”

  Gabe

  I did not buy her. I didn’t have to. What I bought was her freedom. She can now do as she wishes.

  She’s already mine, but I didn’t buy her. She may not know she’s mine yet, but I will have her.

  Perfect Avery. Young. Beautiful. Didn’t know the world of shit she was in. Still doesn’t.

  She’s used to selling herself, but she won’t do it again.

  Ever.

  “I don’t believe I ever told you my name.” I lean forward to retrieve two glasses and a bottle of triple-distilled vodka. A few clanks of ice from the built-in bucket with the cold silver tongs followed by two fingers of chilled vodka. This will warm her up for now. “You look like you could use a drink after that fall.”

  Her eyes dart up to mine as she moves closer to take the drink from me.

  “You look like you have some explaining to do.”

  My cock steels as our fingers touch and her pretty hand takes the drink up to her lips. She look so young and innocent - and she almost has me fooled.

  If I saw her on the street and she smiled at me, I wouldn’t know she was paid to smile at men. Paid to let them fuck her. Paid for...I don’t know what she does. Not really. And my chest swells with disgust at the idea of her doing anything like that. And she won’t again.

  God, she almost has me fooled.

  “There is a party I have to attend tonight,” I say, slipping the invitation from one of the leather flaps on the side of the door. I pull the black card out of its matte black envelope and hand both to Avery.

  She takes it, her face awash with an expression of bemused suspicion, and carefully flips the card open. Her eyes scan along the words as she takes in the information.

  “Sounds...interesting,” she breathes.

  She takes another sip of her vodka. She is trying to be cool.

  “I’d like you to accompany me,” I say.

  She looks straight ahead, away from me, and then down at her drink again.