Fake Marriage to a Baller: A Wilder Brothers Romance

by Aria Scott

  “In your dreams.” She strolled over to one of the dressers, ran her hand over it. “Is this where I put my clothes?”

  “If you want.” I backed up to the bed, where I’d seen the flash of black. “I’ll clear out a dresser for you, or we can get new ones.” I muttered as I leaned down, pretended to rearrange the pillows she’d fluffed, and managed to palm the BDSM chick’s black leather thong up into my shirt. Then, with as much indifference as I could manage, I walked to a louvered door, opened it, and turned on the closet light. “There’s also room in the closet.”

  A soft, warm glow illuminated the closet’s interior, which was big enough to house a king bed and furniture all on its own, but instead contained built-in shelves, poles for hanging clothes, mirrors, and even a small seating area. Several of the shelves and a few closet poles stood empty.

  She walked inside let out a long, admiring sigh. “I could get used to this. I have to make sure that I don’t.”

  I said nothing, jarred by the idea that she was already thinking about our divorce. About leaving.

  She strolled past my Italian suits and loafers, my jeans and flannels, my shoes, my boots, my underwear drawer…

  “My clothes are going to look weird in here,” she predicted.

  I didn’t understand. “Why?”

  “Well, you have all of this fancy stuff. I wear clothes from Target. From Walmart.”

  I still didn’t understand. “You look great no matter what you wear. But I’ll buy you some clothes.”

  “I’ll buy my own clothes,” she announced defiantly.

  “Have it your way.” Shrugging, I led her back out into the bedroom. “Well, that’s about it. There’s only one room left to show you.” I lifted an eyebrow. “It happens to be my favorite room. Want to see it?”

  “This bedroom isn’t your favorite room in the house?” She gave me a sarcastic little smile.

  Returning her smile with a mysterious one of my own, I moved toward a smoked-glass door that concealed the master bath. I opened the door and gave her a little push inside--taking the opportunity to check out her cleavage as she passed by.

  She stopped short. Drew in a deep, surprised breath. “Wow. This is my favorite room, too.”

  I smiled and surveyed it with pride. Everything inside of the master bath was white, pristine, a study of perfection. I watched as she inspected the jetted Zen tub big enough for four atop a tiled platform, the huge tiled shower with a bench and multiple shower heads that shot water at you from every angle, the ultra-modern sinks, the fifty-five gallon fish tank filled with tropical fish built into one wall, and the huge wall of glass that led to an outdoor shower. The outdoor shower faced the ocean, so when stepping into it, it almost seemed as if you were stepping into the Atlantic.

  “I guess no one can spy on you when you’re in there,” she said, her gaze on the outdoor shower.

  “There’s opaque glass a little further out to keep it private,” I confirmed.

  “Well, I have to admit, I’m looking forward to sinking into the tub.”

  I smiled widely. “I’ll get the bubble bath for you--”

  A sudden roar of dogs barking cut me off.

  Aubrey spun around, her face lighting up. “Jax, Molly. They’re here!”

  Both dogs suddenly barreled through the bedroom. I saw a flash of black, followed by a flash of brown and white. The scent of sweaty, wet dog followed them in as they ran in and started jumping all over her, like two rabid wolves determined to bring her down. When I saw the dirty footprints they were leaving all over the place, I almost passed out.

  “Jesus Christ, where they hell were they?” I yelled. “They’re muddy as hell!”

  Woof, woof, woof.

  The dog sitter I’d hired to bring them down to Miami abruptly staggered into the bathroom too, their leashes in her hand. “I’m so sorry, the gardener outside was watering the plants, and there was dirt everywhere, and they both got into it--”

  Aubrey gave her a commiserating smile. “It’s okay. At home, they love getting into the garden, so I’m not surprised--” She broke off and tried to pet them, but they were too excited and still hopping around.

  The dog sitter handed the leashes to Aubrey, and ducked a quick, apologetic look at me. “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” Aubrey repeated, while I just stared in outrage. The dogs had painted my white bathroom brown. I watched as Jax paused from jumping to let a long stream of pee jet across the tiles.

  “Are they housebroken?” I asked woodenly.

  She laughed. “What’s the matter? Having a change of heart?”

  I looked the dog sitter in the eye. “Go. Send me the bill.”

  The dog sitter left on quick feet.

  “Let’s get them out onto the patio,” Aubrey suggested, with an apologetic tone in her voice.

  Together, we herded them toward the patio doors, but as we passed by the mudroom, Molly caught the scent of the rotten pizza box. Before either of us could stop her, Molly had the box open and was rolling around on decomposing pizza. The foul odor stung my nose and made me want to puke.

  “Eww, gross,” she cried, as Jax rolled on the rotten pizza, then jumped up and began racing through the rooms like a greyhound, full of pent-up energy.

  “Jesus Christ,” I repeated, as I watched Aubrey and her dogs make a far worse pigsty of my penthouse than any of my drunkest buddies had ever managed. She was running around after them, wringing her hands as she yelled at them, and then trying to catch them; and as I watched the mess and destruction, I had a serious moment of doubt. But at the same time, the whole damned situation was so funny in its own way that I chuckled, and the chuckle quickly built into a burst of laughter that stopped her in her tracks.

  “Are you laughing at me?” she asked, her eyes blazing green, her mouth tight with anger and upset, and her breasts heaving with effort.

  “Yes,” I admitted. I wasn’t going to apologize for it.

  She put her hands on her hips and marched over to me, and for a moment I thought she would slap me. I braced myself, but then suddenly noticed that the dogs had gone quiet and calm, and were now laying on the foyer floor and watching us anxiously.

  She followed the direction of my gaze and saw them. Her eyes narrowed. “Bad dogs,” she growled. “Really bad dogs.”

  I laughed harder.

  She spun around toward me again, her back stiff. She opened her mouth, as if ready to deliver some scalding comment, but just as quickly shut it. A sudden smile tugged at her lips. “It is pretty funny, isn’t it.”

  “You’re damned right,” I agreed, and then we were both laughing, and it felt good.

  Chapter 10

  Aubrey

  This whole thing was a huge mistake.

  Jax and Molly had finally settled down, but my anxiety hadn’t lessened a bit. How did I ever think I could make this work?

  When Chase suggested we go out, I jumped at the chance. Even though his penthouse was huge, I felt intimately trapped together with him. Every which way I turned, it reminded me that this was his home and I was the interloper masquerading as his fiancée. It was oddly unsettling.

  If I had felt any regret at accepting the fake marriage deal when we were at Chase’s penthouse, those regrets only quadrupled when we got to the fancy nightclub. Sure, I had momentarily relaxed as I experienced Miami for the first time at night. The palm trees were lit up by thousands of cheerful lights, throngs of people strolled along Ocean Drive and the warm ocean breezes lent a festive flair to the night. Everything was so exotic to me. There was a vibrancy in the air itself that made my pulse jump into high gear and lulled me into a false sense of being a part of the excitement.

  When we arrived at Club Nikita, Chase grabbed my hand and whisked me swiftly past the long line of people waiting to be let in. I couldn’t help but notice the envious looks being thrown our way or the women who so blatantly checked Chase out. Chase was so confident, he always projected an aura of belonging, while I felt
like I was shrinking under the scrutiny of the crowd. I didn’t feel entitled to special treatment and worried that, at any moment, I would be found out for the imposter that I was.

  We were escorted behind the velvet rope and straight to a special area of the club, a VIP section that was slightly elevated and surrounding the packed dance floor. Chase guided me to a table flanked by modern-looking sofas and conferred with our host, presumably arranging bottle service.

  I took a moment to catch my breath and study my surroundings. This club was the polar opposite of the Wild Pony and yet Chase had looked so at ease in both settings. The VIP section was bathed in blue and purple ambient light. Blue lights sparkled from inside the glass tables that were strategically scattered about, making the drinks and glassware shine. Pendant lights, shaped like stars, hung above each table, but did little to disperse the neon glow of the club.

  I leaned against the sleek modern railing, horizontal tubes filled with neon-purple blinking lights, which separated the VIP section from the dance floor below. Out on the dance floor, half-naked bodies gyrated non-stop to the pulsing techno dance music. The lighting alternated between flashes of a strobe light and swirling multi-colored spotlights that continuously swept the crowd.

  Two high-pitched laughs caught my attention and when I turned to the sound, I realized that the man who had led us into the VIP section was gone, replaced by two scantily clad women rubbing up against Chase. If I had passed these women on the streets of Grove, Oklahoma, I would have thought they were prostitutes, but here they fit right in. Surely, the tiny pieces of fabric barely covering their bodies weren’t dresses? They looked more like skimpy lingerie. And the sky-high heels they were tottering in made the sexiest pair of heels that I owned and was currently wearing look like orthopedic sneakers.

  I glanced down at my dress. I had felt a flutter of unease when I had pulled my one and only little black dress from my suitcase back at the penthouse. It had given me pause and seemed risqué to bare so much skin in front of Chase. But I wasn’t a country bumpkin. I knew I would look like a complete fool wearing shorts and cowboy boots to a trendy club in Miami. Ha! It turned out that my daring little dress looked more like a nun’s habit in this club.

  Watching Chase talk to the two laughing girls set my teeth on edge. When he sent them on their way with a playful slap to their asses, I had to force myself not to scream with frustration.

  Chase slid onto the couch beside me. “You look like you want to dance.”

  “No. Not yet. I’m actually trying to cool off a bit. I can’t believe how hot it is this late at night.”

  Chase laughed. “This is Miami. It’s always hot. Wait until August, then it’s hotter than Hades.”

  “I guess I’m not used to this humidity. I feel like I need to be wrung out.”

  Chase eyed me up and down. “You’ll get used to it. I hope you packed your summer clothes?”

  Was he implying that I was wearing a winter dress? How I wished I could wipe that smug, superior look off his face. How the hell did he stay so cool anyway? He was the one wearing pants and a long-sleeved top...although I wasn't sure 'pants' was the correct term for those perfectly tailored trousers that clung to his muscular legs. "Top" also didn't really describe the black silk shirt that covered his powerful chest, leaving only a little V of hair to tease my imagination. Why did he have to look perfectly comfortable and perfectly gorgeous wherever he went, when I stood out like a sore thumb?

  I mumbled as I looked out over the crowd. “I guess I’m not in Grove anymore.”

  Chase put his arm around me and pulled my body against his. “Relax, Dorothy.”

  Even though I knew Chase’s embrace was just for show, his nearness still gave me butterflies in my stomach. It was my job to pretend to enjoy his company, so I tried to relax my rigid posture. Almost automatically, I leaned into him, but immediately worried that he’d think that I was sexually attracted to him for real. Because I was only pretending. Except that I wasn’t.

  Just then the drinks arrived and saved me from my tortured thoughts. How was I going to survive this sham marriage with my sanity intact?

  Chase handed me my drink from the table and then sat back against the couch with his own. He tipped his glass to me, “Here’s to our marriage.”

  I arched an eyebrow. “Okay. To our marriage.”

  We both took a sip of our drinks and then Chase’s arm was back around me. His fingers idly started drawing circles on my bare shoulder.

  He had that devilish grin on his face as he asked offhandedly, “So, how many children do you think we should have?”

  If he was trying to throw me off my game, it worked. I nearly choked on my drink.

  Before I could recover, he continued. “I’d like two or three, at least, myself. I think we should start trying right away. What d’ya think?”

  An unbidden image flashed in my mind of Chase and me rolling around in the sheets trying to fulfill his wish. It was a naughty image that completely shocked me with how much my body physically reacted to it. I had to stop him right then and there before my panties spontaneously combusted.

  “Chase…” I warned.

  His fingers traced up and down my arm. “I love seeing you all flustered and breathless.”

  Was it that obvious? I hadn’t realized I was practically panting. I made an effort to control myself, but to my dismay I still sounded smothered. “You have to stop talking to me like that.”

  “Hmm. That’s something I’ll have to remember – the lady likes dirty talk – and I haven’t even started yet.”

  I was saved from further humiliation by the arrival of people to our table. “Looks like we’re interrupting something…”

  The two women standing next to our table looked like they belonged on a reality television show about the rich and famous: leopard print, boob jobs, bling everywhere. Behind them stood two men and, if size was any indication, the men were probably football players. The women slid into the adjacent sofa at our table while their big boyfriends greeted Chase with manly secret handshakes.

  One of the women, her huge chest nearly spilling out of her tight dress, leaned toward me to be heard over the loud music. “So you’re the new fiancée Chase has told us so much about.”

  Chase must have already started spreading our story. Suddenly, I felt much more locked in to our lie. “I didn’t realize he’d told anyone we got engaged.”

  The other woman, dripping with expensive jewelry, chimed in. “We were so shocked to learn he had a sweetheart back home. Right, Shontelle? I never would have guessed it in a million years!”

  Shontelle gave her friend with the big mouth the elbow, and finally the friend had the good grace to look embarrassed that she had stepped in it. Obviously Chase had been quite the player while he was supposedly courting the love of his life back home. I don’t know if I was more irritated or mortified that once again Chase was making me look like a fool.

  I didn’t have time to reply because Chase smoothly cut into the conversation. “I’m sure I mentioned Aubrey many times. You ladies must not have been paying attention. Even though she wasn’t with me, she was always on my mind.”

  Shontelle and her friend exchanged doubtful glances. At this point, my face was burning with humiliation. Chase had made me look even stupider, if that was possible.

  Shontelle leaned her leopard-encased breasts even closer to me. “You’re from Oklahoma? How long have you known Chase?”

  Before I could answer, Chase cut in again, “Since high school. Aubrey even tutored me in math.”

  Chase was a good actor. He even looked proudly at me when he spoke. But, I was mad. Mad that he had already spread a backstory about us. One that made me look horrible - a story that we were supposedly dating forever while he was fucking anyone with two legs. I gritted my teeth and bit my tongue.

  Shontelle’s friend couldn’t let it drop. “Imagine that? All these years!”

  I smiled prettily. “Well, I did turn down his ma
rriage proposal, what was it? Three times, sweetheart?” I turned to Chase as if looking for confirmation, before continuing. “He just wouldn’t give up! He finally wore me down.”

  I thought I saw maybe a glimmer of newfound respect in Shontelle’s eyes. I glanced at Chase, hoping to see the points that I had scored registered in his eyes, but he actually looked amused. There was no rattling his calm demeanor.

  The two women chatted with us a few more minutes before they half-heartedly tried to get me on the dance floor. Finally, they departed with their football boyfriends, Chase’s friends, who I never even met.

  I was ready to unload the full force of my fury on Chase, when he put a finger to my lips. “Aubrey, relax. You need to finish your drink.”

  I know I would have eventually recovered from the jolt that shot through my insides when his finger touched my lips enough to rip him to pieces, but suddenly Chase was grappling with a handful of blonde bimbo sitting on his lap.

  This woman actually had the nerve to hop into Chase’s lap while I was sitting right next to him, thigh to thigh. She tossed her long blonde hair, which ended up half in my face. Her voice was high and giggly. “Chase! When did you get back into town?”

  “I just got back today.”

  Her sparkly silver dress was possibly the shortest one I’d ever seen. Most of the shirts I owned were longer than that dress. And, if I had to guess, there wasn’t much on underneath it either.

  She leaned forward, squirming provocatively in Chase’s lap, “I heard you got engaged. Tell me it isn’t true!” I could just imagine the pouty look on her face.

  “It’s true. I’m engaged to Aubrey. She’s right here.”

  The woman twisted in Chase’s lap and then eyed me with a disdainful look. “Oh. I didn’t see you there.”

  She was just like the old cheerleader types I remembered Chase dating in high school. Even seeing me there, she didn’t make a move to get off Chase’s lap. And Chase didn’t make a move to kick her off either.

  “I’m Laurie. I’m an old friend of Chase’s. A really close friend. Right, Chase?”