The Bad Boy Arrangement

by Nora Flite

  “It's not mine, but I'll take the credit,” Abell said. I saw his hand squeeze, knuckles going bloodless. Wincing, he pulled away, shaking his fingers with a shallow laugh. “Nice strong grip you have there, brother-in-law.”

  Gram's shoulders balled up by his ears. His smile was tight as a drum. “Don't get ahead of yourself.”

  They were weighing each other, the silent judgment of two men trying to discover the intent of the other. It was a silly attempt at machismo. I didn't need, or want, either of them starting a fight. “Hey, both of you, stop it.”

  “Stop what?” Gram asked.

  Rolling my eyes, I gave him a light shove. “You know what. Quit sizing him up. And you, Abell, don't antagonize him.”

  “I'm not!”

  I lifted one eyebrow. “You are. Just quit it. This is a Christmas party, we should be full of good cheer.”

  A loud ringing cut through the air.

  Conversation died, and I looked up, spotting Corin at the center of the room. He had a glass held high, tapping the rim with a spoon. At the sight of his smug smile, my stomach dropped. What the hell is he doing?

  “Attention,” he said loudly. “I'd like to make a toast.” He scanned the room, finally halting when he found me. I stopped breathing. “The Birch family wants to welcome Nichole Halloway into our fold. She and my son are going to be married at the end of the month, and I for one couldn't be happier. And, you're all invited to the reception!”

  All attention was on me. Glasses went up, a cacophony of happy 'cheers!' rumbling over and over. The applause became a hurricane.

  And to my credit, I managed a fake smile.

  I smiled and smiled and waved a hand politely.

  And Corin's eyes never left mine.

  - Chapter Nine -

  Nix

  In a flash, the days went by. They evaporated hour by hour, until finally, the current date slammed into me like a car crash.

  Today I'd be trying on my wedding dress.

  How did two weeks just vanish? It had been a blur. I'd weathered it in a haze of planning, firm acceptance...

  And the occasional cocktail in the afternoon.

  But there was more plaguing me than just the wedding. Abell had drilled himself into my life. He found numerous ways to be close to me, always pushing the limits—always trying to get me to buckle to him.

  I'd been strong, but if I was honest, it had been a struggle. The bastard was too good at finding the cracks in my armor. One gritty whisper and my thighs were soaked. It was as if my atoms had been programmed to react to him.

  Each day, the temptation to just drag him somewhere private so we could repeat what we'd done the night we'd met grew stronger.

  I need to stop seeing him.

  That was the answer; avoid Abell Birch.

  Except when I stepped outside my door that evening...

  Abell was waiting for me.

  Dammit.

  He was parked out front, leaning on the hood of his car. The sun was reflecting off of the glossy paint, but his teeth rivaled the shine. I'd never seen such a smug looking man. He wore it like it was his cologne.

  Rocking off of the car, he waved at me. “Nice to run into you, Sugar.”

  Narrowing my eyes, I edged down the steps. “What are you doing here?”

  “Bringing you coffee.” He revealed two cups behind him, balancing on the Ferrari's hood. “Extra cream, just the way you like it.”

  I blushed red hot. “You came here just to bring me coffee?”

  “Is that surprising?”

  Opening my mouth, I paused. “Yeah, actually.”

  “I'm hurt.” Passing me one of the drinks, he chuckled. “But I was also told you'd be doing errands today, and I thought you could use some company.”

  He'd been told? By who? Thinking about the Christmas party, I connected the dots. “My mother told you, didn't she?”

  Sipping his coffee, he nodded. “Yup.”

  Cursing that woman for meddling, I took a quick pull from my paper cup. The aroma of coffee grinds and the sultriness of cream washed over me. He'd made the drink perfectly. “Abell, you don't want to come to a bridal store. It's what groups of girls do, you know? Giggling, sitting around, trying on clothes? Boring.”

  “Beautiful women changing in and out of their clothing? Sounds like my kind of place.”

  Prickles of jealousy ran up my spine. I washed them down with another drink. “Thanks for this, by the way.” I wiggled the coffee side to side.

  “Thank me by letting me drive you to your appointment.”

  My resistance was flaking off, washed away by days of his flirting. Peering at the ground so I didn't have to see his grin, I said, “Alright. My gift to you is letting you drive me.”

  He cut the air with his warm laugh. “Aren't I lucky?” Tapping his keys, the doors unlocked. “Your chariot awaits.”

  It was a challenge not to lighten up when he was so playful. Slipping into the car, I went to turn the radio on. “Hey,” I said, hesitating. “What happened to your knob?”

  “My 'knob' is just fine, what'd you hear?”

  Rolling my eyes, I pointed at the radio. He saw what I meant, and his frown was a quick flicker. Pushing the gas pedal, he started us forward so roughly I bounced back in my seat. “Hey!”

  “Sorry.”

  I shot him a side-eye. He's hiding something. I didn't know how to casually prod, so I let it be. Whatever had happened to his radio didn't matter, anyway.

  Well, except that now I didn't have music to escape into and avoid conversation.

  Heat roared from the vents, making the Ferrari toasty—welcome compared to the chilly day. It actually made me sleepy, sitting there with the hum of the engine and the cozy warmth.

  “I don't usually have to ask this,” he said, his smirk going crooked. “But you'll have to direct me.”

  Lifting my chin, I dared to meet his smile with my own. “It's not the first time I've done that.”

  In the centers of his irises, a glimmer of delicious promise grew. “I guess you're right. You did direct me to fuck you over and over that night.” Pointedly, he looked down at my chest, growling in the back of his throat.

  Pushing my knees together, I turned away. My breath was coming so fast it actually fogged the window up. “There, up ahead, ” I said, my tone shaking. Calm down. I pointed at the street. “Turn right there, the shop is just a bit further.”

  It was a mint and pink building, the giant windows displaying white dresses in various styles. Just as I was regaining my composure, a new wave—a different wave—of nerves slammed into me.

  This is it. Struggling with the handle, I jumped out of the Ferrari and sucked in the chilly air.

  Abell locked the car, walking to me with his hands folded behind his head. “You alright?”

  Breathe. Breathe. You can do this.

  My hands rested on my knees, I was bent in two. “Yeah. I mean, no.” Giggling uneasily, I shook myself. “It's just weird. I never expected... I don't know.”

  “What? You never thought you'd get married?”

  My brain flashed with memories. One of them, a vivid image of my mother throwing a cellphone at my father, had my stomach twisting. “You know what my parents are like, I don't have the most positive views about the custom.”

  “I hear you there.”

  Yes. Of course he did. The story about his poor mother had opened my eyes to his tragic past. It also helped me understand that day, when he'd cradled a tulip and complimented how it would suit me.

  Everything he knew about color, he'd learned from her.

  My lungs stretched; I was dizzy, but less panicked. “Come on,” I said. “Let's get this over with.”

  The door jingled as we entered. A man in a crisp, grey vest looked up, greeting me with a giant smile. “Hello! How can I help you?”

  “Um, I guess I have an appointment? Nix Halloway?”

  “Oh, of course!” He threw up his hands, startling me. “Your mot
her called ahead. You aren't giving us much time to get you fitted, you know,” he teased. “I'm Bates, I'll be taking care of you.” Spotting Abell, he lifted an eyebrow. “Are you the fiance?”

  Fiance. Cripes.

  Abell reached out, circling an arm around my waist. “That's right. Future husband.” He squeezed one of my ass cheeks firmly.

  I bit my tongue, the pain stopping me from whimpering at his possessive touch. Sliding out of his reach, I motioned for Bates to hurry and lead the way, staying several feet ahead of Abell. “Sorry for the short notice, I usually do things with much more planning.”

  “It's no trouble. I'm going to get you into a dress you'll love.” His voice rolled with amusement. “Your mother emphasized not to worry about the cost, and we all know money smooths every inconvenient wrinkle life has for us.”

  Once, I would have agreed. For some reason, thinking about money formed a crater in my guts. Money is why I'm doing this. I glanced sideways at Abell. And money is why he's going along with this charade.

  That fact dug at me like a rusty nail.

  Shaking off my weird mood, I followed Bates further into the store. Dresses hung off every hook, glittering bright as new snow in every style.

  Abruptly, the clerk pulled up short, pointing at Abell. “I'm sorry, Mister...”

  “Just call me the husband to be.”

  The clerk made a face. “We prefer the fiances to stay here.” He pointed at a lone bench in the middle of the store. “Seeing your bride in her dress before the big day isn't standard.”

  “I don't think I'm a very 'standard' guy,” Abell said. Nodding at me, he ran his fingers down the front of his shirt. Helplessly, I pictured him running his hand over me. “Do you care if I watch?” He didn't hide the lust that ruled his expression.

  I wanted to be offended, but a little twinge rolled through my belly. “You weren't supposed to come at all. Just sit there, I'll be done fast.”

  Bates frowned as deep as he could. “It takes time to find the perfect dress for the biggest day of your life.”

  I laughed sourly. “Anything that fits me will be good enough.” When his frown shifted into sadness, I corrected myself. “Not to say what you do isn't worth the effort! I'm just... I'm easy to please.”

  Abell's voice was thick as he whispered, “You certainly are.”

  Sweating across my neck, I nudged Bates around the corner. “Let's get this show on the road!” Glaring over at Abell, I tried to express all of my distaste in a single scowl.

  Of course, he only bared his pearly teeth, flopping onto the bench comfortably.

  Bates led me to an area that was quiet and empty. A stall was cut into the wall, dresses decorating the racks around us like an ethereal lace forest.

  The instant we were alone, he handed me several of them, stacking my arms until I grunted. “Go on,” he said, waving at me. “Get in the stall and try one!”

  Brushing the curtain aside, I squinted at the inside of the room. “There are no mirrors in here.”

  “Of course not!” He pointed at a podium that was surrounded by reflective walls. “Your first visual will be dramatic, astounding! It's the only way to experience the dress, and to know if it's the one.”

  Pursing my lips, I chuckled. “I like your enthusiasm, but I'm warning you, I'm not going to get that excited about this.”

  “Maybe you'll be surprised.”

  I started to argue, but he reached out, pushing me gently into the stall. “Go, go!”

  The curtain drifted shut, leaving me alone. Sighing, I set the dresses on the hooks on the walls. They were all different, sharing only the common theme of bright white.

  I can't believe I'm doing this. Which do I put on first? Deciding it didn't matter, I ran my fingertips over the front of a ball-gown style dress. It's so expensive looking.

  This stuff was meant for a queen, not me.

  Tugging my clothes off, I kept my heels on, figuring the extra height would help me not drag the wedding dress along the floor.

  I pulled the full skirt upwards, the weight of it amazing me. It managed to have a heaviness to it, but also, a surprising lightness. What kind of fabric was this?

  The pleats were coated in filigree and glitter. It reminded me of fairy wings, and that thought alone made me smile. I hadn't been exposed to much fluff or fantasy as a child. My parents had set out from the start to infuse me with responsibility.

  Binding the corset around my middle, I felt like... a bride.

  Will I look like one?

  Zipping the back closed, I buried that wandering thought. It didn't matter how I looked. This was about hard work, dedication, and sacrifice.

  Especially sacrifice.

  “Don't dawdle,” the clerk called to me. “Chop chop! Let's see how you look!”

  Inhaling until my lungs could swell no more, I held the air. I didn't release it until I started to see black spots.

  Okay. Here we go.

  Stepping out of the stall, I was faced by multiple reflections of myself. From every angle I saw the dress clinging to me; the lace ruffles, the rose shaped edges curling down my bare back.

  I'd never worn anything like this before. The woman in the mirror didn't look like me. She was serene and soft. I was hard edges and daggers.

  What the hell was I doing putting this on?

  I didn't belong here, I didn't... I couldn't get away with this. Everyone would laugh and say I was fake.

  And wasn't I?

  “Isn't it gorgeous?” Bates gushed.

  Half-turning, I adjusted my hair over my shoulder. I couldn't tell the clerk my complex jumble of emotions and thoughts. “I don't know. It's a great dress, it just isn't... I look funny.”

  This isn't me. I'm not a bride.

  I'm a soldier.

  Bates clicked his tongue. “You look stunning!”

  A thick, restrained voice spoke out. “Stunning isn't a strong enough word.”

  Freezing, I clutched my hair tight. In the mirror, I could see his reflection; blue eyes, a tight jaw and tighter fists.

  Abell was there.

  And he was watching me.

  - Chapter Ten -

  Abell

  I was fixated on the sight before me. Nothing else existed.

  Nix was a vision of radiance; a living opal, perfectly clean and glittering in the lights. The corset hugged her waist, the top enhanced her chest. In that moment, there had never been another woman so perfect.

  I wanted her.

  And I wanted her right now.

  “Sir, please,” Bates hissed. “It's unorthodox for the groom to see the bride before the wedding!”

  Digging into my wallet, I shoved several hundred dollars at him. “Go away. Give us twenty minutes.”

  “I—what?” he asked.

  “Abell,” Nix said, hands digging into the layers of the dress. “What the hell are you—”

  “I said go,” I growled, shoving the clerk to the side. The man was flustered, but when he counted the money I'd given him, he shut up. With a pointed glance at me, he hurried out of view.

  Focusing on Nix, I grabbed her by the shoulders, pushing her back into the stall.

  “Abell!” she gasped, clearly confused by my response.

  Fuck. I was confused, too. It had taken all of my strength that night at the party not to keep kissing her.

  Nix had tried to convince me the world wasn't as cruel as I'd experienced.

  If she believed that, I wanted to let her keep that innocence. It would be better if I left her alone.

  Better if I never touched her again.

  But I'm a selfish man.

  The curtain fell shut behind us. She stared up at me, and I could see myself—my hunger—in the reflection of her green eyes. “What's gotten into you?” she asked.

  Dragging my palms down her smooth, bare shoulders, I shivered. “I can't do this.”

  “Do what?”

  “Resist you.” Cupping her jaw, my lips captured hers. She t
asted sweeter than she had the first night we'd met, more like candy canes and less like beer. Around us, the giant frills of the dress rustled. They announced our actions; shushing us or clapping, I wasn't sure.

  My focus was laser sharp, entirely on her.

  Under my roaming palms, the beads of her dress felt like brail. They told me a story, led me on an adventure across the dip of her waist to the swell of her ass.

  Nix whimpered, pushing her palms into my chest. “Wait,” she said. “We can't do this.”

  Nuzzling her throat, I inhaled until I was disoriented. “We can. We are.”

  Her voice was fading, thickening with her growing need. “You said... you said you wouldn't sleep with me.”

  “No. I said I wouldn't unless you wanted me to.” My fingers found the hooks on the dress, popping them one by one. “You fucking want me to. I can smell it.”

  The heat of her blush touched my cheek where it was pressed to her neck. “But I didn't even buy this dress yet, and people will hear us!”

  “I'm buying it for you.” I kissed her collarbone, meeting her eyes. “And let them. I'm taking you in this dress, right here. I don't care if the whole world knows what I'm doing to you.”

  I need this woman.

  Part of me wanted to rationalize it. I needed her? Fine, but I really meant I needed to fuck her. That was it.

  Please, let that be it.

  Nix bit down on her lip, trying to quiet her gasp. Her struggle was delicious. “My mother will lose her mind if the dress I pick gets damaged, and she won't buy a second, and... and...”

  “Shut up,” I chuckled darkly. Running my lips over the indent of her throat, I slid the rest of the zipper down. “Don't talk unless you're saying my name, or begging for my cock.”

  Her lashes fluttered. “I don't beg.”

  “You do.” Threading my fingers in her hair, I yanked her head back, causing her to groan. “You will.”

  Raking my jaw down her throat, I caressed every inch of her exposed skin. Her shoulders were smooth as polished ivory, the inner part of her arm so sensitive that just blowing on it drew goosebumps.

  Spinning her, I pressed her face to the wall. “Stay.”

  Nix looked back at me, the one eye I could see wide with anticipation.