Black Irish

by Tricia Andersen

  Abbey sank into her chair, dejected. Sloan glared at Robert, trying to spit fire with his eyes. Robert’s my best friend, but he can truly be an asshole.

  A tense silence filled the room for a long time. Sloan collapsed onto the leather sofa, crumbling the paper in his fist then throwing it with vehemence. He watched as it bounced against one of the glass walls.

  After several minutes, Abbey’s small voice broke the quiet. “What if you got married? Couldn’t you get a green card then?”

  Robert chortled incredulously. “Who’s he going to marry, Abbey?”

  “Aren’t you his partner? Aren’t you a U.S. citizen?” she demanded.

  Robert’s laughter echoed throughout the penthouse. Sloan looked up at Abbey. He knew she could see the defeat in his eyes. “We aren’t ready for that step, Abigail. We aren’t that close. Our relationship is…casual.”

  They all fell silent again. Then, Abbey took a deep breath and spoke. “Marry me.”

  Sloan’s head snapped up in surprise. He stared at her in awe. “What did you say?”

  “Marry me,” she repeated.

  Sloan sat back on the couch, dumbfounded. “I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s not a quick ceremony and an annulment. We’d have to stay together for over a year or two. We may have to live together.”

  “So? You have an extra bedroom, don’t you?”

  “You’re marrying Michael in two years.”

  Abbey shrugged. “We don’t have to tell him. If anything, it will buy you some time to find another solution.”

  Sloan stared at her then shifted his gaze to Robert. Robert shook his head in disbelief. Sloan smirked back at him. I want Abbey for my own. It may be a sham marriage but I can still have her. Not to mention this solves so many other documentation problems.”

  “So?” she insisted.

  “You would be all right doing this? Being my wife? Changing your name to mine? It would have to be very soon,” he warned.

  She took a deep breath and paused for a moment. Then she smiled. “Yes. I suggested it, didn’t I?”

  Sloan returned her smile. “Very well. Let’s get married. Tomorrow.”

  “Sounds great to me,” Abbey agreed.

  The next morning, within twenty-four hours of Abbey’s “proposal,” Sloan paced the floor of the courthouse, the heels of his Italian leather boots clicking against the cocoa and bronze patterned marble. He stopped to glance at his watch. He had his doubts that they could pull off preparing everything in one afternoon. It seemed too good to be true. He sent her to file for their marriage license while he visited his lawyer to draw up the prenup, meeting her briefly at this very courthouse to finish the process. As he had surmised, the clerk took a brief glance at his passport to check his identity. By the end of the night, however, they signed the marital contract his lawyer delivered over take-out Chinese.

  He let go a relieved sigh as he studied the courthouse around him. Once this ceremony is over, I can file for documentation under an official legal name. The amount of money I had to pay to get into the country last time was obscene. It was the only way, though, to keep them from looking deeper, to learning the truth.

  Robert laughed at his best friend. “Why exactly didn’t you come here together?”

  Sloan glared at him. “Abbey had to get dressed, style her hair, and apply her makeup. Plus, it’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding.”

  “Does that include fake ones?”

  Sloan’s stare turned icy. “It isn’t fake.”

  “When are you consummating your marriage, then?”

  A sly grin crept across Sloan’s face. “Don’t you worry about when I will consummate my marriage. It will happen soon enough.”

  Sloan spun around, distracted by the sound of heels against the marble. He looked up to find Abbey discreetly sprinting across the courthouse floor with Gordon close behind. His breath caught in his throat at the sight of her. Her dress was white, the halter-top strap caressing the back of her neck. The empire waist peaked just below her breasts. A full, flowing skirt fell to just above her bare knees.

  Her hair was pinned to the top of her head with ringlets of curls cascading alongside her face and down her back. Delicate feet clad in white satin pumps skidded to a halt as she stood before him, breathless from her run.

  “You’re beautiful,” he murmured in wonder.

  “Thank you,” she gushed.

  “Sloan,” Robert interrupted. “Judge Goldstein only has a fifteen minute window to fit you in today. You need to go now.”

  Sloan sighed then took Abbey’s hand in his. “Of course. Let’s go.”

  »»•««

  Sloan led Abbey through the corridors of the courthouse, followed by Robert and Gordon. Pushing open a dark-stained door, he motioned her in.

  Inside sat a man huddled over a stack of papers on a desk of the same colored wood as the door. His salt and pepper hair was combed over his balding head. The freshly pressed robe he wore draped down from his shoulders. He looked up at them through the spectacles on his nose, then smiled and stood to greet them.

  The justice shook Sloan’s hand emphatically as he quipped about some recent city legislation they had both been part of—legislation Sloan’s influence had swung in Judge Goldstein’s favor. Abbey stared at Sloan, puzzled. She knew he had money. She knew he had an immense artistic talent. But he has political power too? What deep, dark secrets does he have?

  Judge Goldstein turned back to his desk to retrieve a book then turned and faced them again. Abbey’s heart caught in her throat. This was it—her wedding day. True, it wasn’t a real wedding with the big white dress, the five-tiered cake, and hundreds of guests. In fact, her soon-to-be husband was gay. But at the end of this, she would be Mrs. Sloan O’Riley. She glanced around the cold chambers then back to Sloan.

  Instead of her heart clenching in regret, it fluttered rapidly in excitement. She wrapped her arm around his, hugging it to her. He looked down at her, his eyes shining brightly as he beamed. Then, he softly nudged her, turning her attention to the justice.

  “Ms. Wright?” Judge Goldstein questioned.

  “Ummm…yes?”

  ”Do you take Mr. O’Riley as your husband?”

  Abbey’s eyes shot from him to Sloan as she felt her face flush. She didn’t want to know what shade of red her cheeks now were. “I do,” she squeaked.

  “And Sloan, do you take Ms. Wright as your wedded wife?”

  Sloan’s gaze was soft and gentle. “Oh, yes. I absolutely do.”

  “Do you have rings to exchange?”

  Sloan reached into his slacks’ pocket. After a few moments of digging within the cloth, his hand returned with the simple gold bands. He gave his Abbey and kept the hers for himself. She frowned. “Why do you have my ring?”

  “To put on your finger, lass,” Sloan purred. “Unless you just want to jam it on when the time is right.”

  “No, no. I get it.” She glanced at her hand. Michael’s small ring stared back at her. She swept her other hand to it and tugged it off. Then she searched for a place to put it.

  “Abigail.” Gordon reached an open hand to her. “I will make sure it arrives safely at the penthouse.”

  Abbey dropped it in his hand. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Ready now?” Sloan question as he chuckled.

  “Sure. Yeah. Let’s go,” she answered flustered.

  Abbey was oblivious to the justice’s words as she pushed the ring onto Sloan’s finger. She let go a tiny squeal of excitement as she watched him slide her band into place. Sloan clasped her hand in his as he laughed at her reaction.

  “By the power invested in me by the State of New York, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride,” Judge Goldstein announced.

  Her eyes locked onto Sloan’s mouth as he gathered her into his arms. She felt an ache deep in every nerve to know what his kiss would
feel like. A wave of disappointment hit her. It will only be a quick peck. He is gay after all.

  As Sloan’s lips engulfed hers, Abbey quickly discovered how wrong she was. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she sank into his kiss. She let out a sigh as he pried her mouth apart and dove deeper. His warm breath, the softness of his lips, the sensation of his large, powerful hands holding her close—it all made her dizzy and giddy at the same time. She clung to him as they finally parted. She stumbled back a step as he let her go. Her eyes met Robert’s. Instead of boiling in a jealous rage seeing his lover kiss someone else that passionately, he actually looked relieved. He must just be happy Sloan doesn’t have to leave now. But still, wouldn’t they just have left together?

  Steadying her, Sloan smiled, a seductive glimmer sparkling in his eyes. “Shall we go to lunch to celebrate, Mrs. O’Riley?”

  Abbey giggled. “Of course.”

  They paraded arm in arm through the courthouse all the way to the curb, where Gordon had the Hummer waiting. Sloan opened the car door, waving both Gordon and Robert away, then offered his hand to Abbey. Once she was settled in her seat, Sloan climbed in beside her. He took the hand smoothing the white satin of her skirt and held it tight in his as they pulled into the busy downtown traffic.

  “Thank you, Abigail, for doing this. I truly appreciate it.” Sloan moved his thumb in a soft caress.

  “I’m glad to help. What’s next?”

  “I’ll apply for my green card tomorrow. I have several business matters to attend to today.” He paused then pulled his hand free. “I almost forgot.”

  Sloan pulled his suit coat open and reached into the inside pocket. He pulled free a white, finely woven envelope tied closed with a burgundy cord. “My wedding gift to you.”

  “But I didn’t get you anything.”

  “It doesn’t matter. Open it.”

  Abbey unlaced the string from the envelope and opened it. She reached inside, pulling out a single ticket. Her eyes opened wide as she read the print on the paper. “Phantom of the Opera! For tonight!”

  Sloan grinned proudly. “Front row. Orchestra.”

  “How did you get this?”

  Sloan’s smile grew deeper. “I have my ways.”

  She threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tight. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  As Abbey pulled free from his embrace, she fought to control the disappointment on her face.

  Sloan searched her face, his eyes filled with concern. “What is it, Abigail?”

  “I’m sorry. I really love this,” she defended. “Thank you. But something this incredible…I was hoping to share it with someone.”

  Sloan’s deep, sexy smirk returned. Abbey stared at his lips, the sensation of his kiss flooding her mind again. Shaking herself from her daze, she noticed Sloan pull his jacket open again to produce a second ticket.

  “As I said, I have business to attend to today. I’ll meet you there in time for the show. Then we will get supper afterward. That is, if that’s all right with you?”

  Abbey sighed as she smiled. Without thinking she snuggled against him. He didn’t seem to mind. “That will be perfect.”

  Chapter Six

  Things hadn’t changed at Panda Publications, Abbey noticed as she straightened her skirt again. Listening to the bustle of the office behind her, she sat in Aubrey’s office anxiously waiting for said owner to arrive.

  She turned as a warm hand gently patted hers. She smiled at Sloan. Her husband. Wow, still not used to calling him that.

  “No worries, Abigail,” he assured. “The hard part is over. Now we reap the benefits.”

  “I don’t think I’m nervous. I think I’m more excited. We get to see our book.”

  Abbey absentmindedly brushed her suit coat. She had her own power suit, a black one at that. The collar of her white blouse peeked from beneath the lapel of her jacket. She crossed her legs, a black stiletto hanging from her toes. Tugging her shoe on, she sat up.

  She lovingly brushed the gold shamrock on her collar, another beautiful gift from Sloan. He’d pinned it on her himself this morning as they stepped out of the Hummer after arriving at Panda. She looked back up at Sloan. He brushed his knuckle across her check gently, a proud grin embedded on his face.

  They both turned as the door opened. Aubrey strode inside, balancing a pile of books in her arms.

  “Are you excited?”

  Abbey nodded ecstatically. Sloan chuckled. Aubrey stopped beside Abbey’s chair, handing her a book.

  “Congratulations, Abbey.”

  Abbey’s eyes flew open in awe. Her heart raced. Here it was, Sloan’s art beautifully illustrated on the cover. She ran her fingers across her name before spinning in her chair to find Sloan inspecting his own copy. An adorable teddy bear with a bushel of apples in its hands adorned the cover with the title “Alex’s Apples” across the top.

  Abbey flushed as Aubrey sat in her desk chair. “Thank you, Aubrey. Thank you for everything.”

  “You’re welcome, Abbey. But the fun is just beginning. We’ve started scheduling author’s events and signings.” She opened a file sitting in the middle of her desk. “This couldn’t have happened at a better time. There’s a children’s book festival in Miami in two weeks. I have you both scheduled to debut the book there.”

  Aubrey tossed a few magazine clippings in front of them. “Initial reviews have been incredible. So…are you both ready for Miami?”

  Abbey looked at Sloan eagerly. He laughed again, obviously enjoying her excitement. “Absolutely, Aubrey. Let’s do it.”

  “Great. Tess, my secretary, will get your travel plans to you by the end of the week.” Aubrey stood. “I’ll call you if I need anything.”

  Sloan and Abbey rose as well. Abbey extended her book across the desk to return it to Aubrey. Aubrey held up a hand to stop her. “No, Abbey. It’s yours to keep,” Aubrey assured her.

  Abbey hugged it tight to her chest. Sloan pressed his palm to the small of her back, leading her from the office.

  They strolled in silence through the busy building. Abbey continued to hug her book contently as Sloan pressed the button to call the elevator. It wasn’t until they stepped inside and the door closed that Abbey spoke. “Two weeks. Wow,” she breathed.

  Sloan cocked her one of his sly, sexy grins. Abbey continued.

  “Have you talked to the INS? Applied for your green card?”

  “Yes.”

  Abbey paused, concern replacing her elation. “Won’t the INS want to visit? How will that work with our travel?”

  He smiled at her reassuringly. “I’m to provide them with a copy of our schedule. They were very understanding. But I’m sure they’ll visit soon. Before we leave for Miami, I think it would be best for you to move your things to my place.”

  Abbey nodded, her grin returning. “I think that would be good too.”

  They stepped out at the ground floor. Sloan wrapped his arm around Abbey protectively as he guided her through the crowded lobby to the waiting Hummer.

  »»•««

  Abbey wandered aimlessly through the corridors of the Hyatt Regency Miami. She watched as person after person filed to the registration table, jabbing their nametags through their lapels, dress shirts, and blouses. They glared at her as she walked past. Abbey giggled to herself. They don’t know who I am. No matter—before they left the convention hall tonight, they would certainly know who she was. Waving to a random group of women talking to each other, she turned for the elevators.

  The day hadn’t gone as she had hoped. It had taken much longer for her to check out of her hotel in New York than expected, making her late for the airport. She’d missed the flight with Sloan, Robert, and Aubrey. From what she understood from her very irritated husband, he insisted on waiting for her. The argument in the airport got very heated. Finally he conceded after Aubrey had arranged another flight. But instead of first class, she was forced to fly economy squashed between two very lou
d, very stinky men. Therefore, she had yet to see her husband…or his lover.

  As she waited for her plane, she’d texted Michael. He never responded. She’d tried calling him. Again, there was no answer. After trying for the past three days to reach him, Abbey was beginning to worry. She had never gone this long without talking to him.

  It doesn’t matter, she thought to herself. I’ll call him again later, right after the best night of my life.

  She did call her mom to make sure that her copy arrived. Mary went on long after Abbey had boarded the plane. She reported that she showed everyone at the library, both co-workers and students. Everyone was awed and proud. Just before Abbey hung up Mary commented about illustrations and how much she wanted to meet the illustrator. Abbey shook her head as she ended the call. You probably should, Mom. He’s really talented and very handsome. And he’s your son-in-law.

  Abbey stepped into the crowded elevator, struggling through the bodies to press the button for her floor. She waited, watching the numbers on the display above the door light one by one, as they stopped at each level. Exiting once she reached her floor, Abbey spun on the toe of her stiletto heel toward her room.

  Abbey slipped the key card into the door, opening it as she flipped on the light. She didn’t plan to be long. In the near dark, she picked up her carry-on and unzipped the side pocket. Slipping her hand inside for a moment, she rummaged around in the contents. She finally produced her shamrock, cradled in her fingers.

  Pinning the leaf to her lapel, Abbey slung the bag over her shoulder. There was nothing in it she absolutely needed—her laptop, her wallet, her copy of the book, and a few other trinkets—but having it with her made her feel safe, like a security blanket.

  Abbey slipped her key in her pocket and closed the door, leaning against it to assure it was locked. She hummed to herself as she swept back toward the elevator. But she stopped short at a door halfway down the hall. It was opened a crack, the latch had jammed itself into the door as it had closed. It was obvious the occupants of the room had been in a hurry to get inside.