One Bride for Five Brothers

by Jess Bentley

  But then again, nobody seems to notice.

  In just two hours, I'm going to be back at August's apartment. I've got my bag in the car. I've already given my dad an excuse, babbled over dinner, just something nonchalant about heading out for the weekend to do some sightseeing. Nothing for him to be concerned about. It's playoff season, so he didn't give it too much thought.

  And why would he? I'm a grown woman. Just because I live at home still, doesn’t mean I'm a child. I just still need to look after my dad, I guess, and we get along so well there wasn't any good reason to leave.

  So what am I going to tell him?

  That seems like a conversation my dad and August should have together. I can tell August has a lot of feelings on the matter, and I suppose I'll let him take that bull by the horns when he's ready.

  Other people answer their phones, type on their computers, get up and walk around to do whatever it is they're doing. The minutes tick by. Around three o'clock, I stretch in my chair, wondering if it would even be possible to maybe leave early.

  “Dahlia? Are you busy?”

  I look around, catching Lori's eye. She gives me a squinting, professional nod and I stand up automatically.

  “Busy? Not really. Can I help you with something?”

  “Let's head to the conference room,” she suggests.

  I follow behind her to the long conference room at the back of the office. When I arrive there are four more people sitting around the oblong table, looking at each other in confusion.

  “Just have a seat,” Lori advises me, then strides purposefully to the front of the room.

  I sit in the leather executive chair uncertainly, hearing the air whoosh out of the cushions as my weight settles. We all watch Lori as she paces back and forth, taking a few steps in either direction. She steeples her fingers under her chin and then finally turns to us, resting her fingertips on the table and leaning forward.

  “As you all know, we have had an unexpected dip in revenue,” she begins.

  There is a collective gasp. Instantly, everyone in the room seems to know what’s happening but me.

  What is going on here?

  “No, Lori, come on,” Derek sighs, shaking his head and knuckling his brow.

  She stands and folds her arms across her chest.

  “While we may be able to recover financially next quarter, this quarter's revenue is—”

  “Are you kidding me?” Barb interrupts. She is an older woman, usually a plump and friendly grandma-type, suddenly transformed into an outraged matron.

  “I wish I were,” Lori shakes her head apologetically.

  Mickey, a rather pleasant young guy who does our computer systems or web page or something, lets his head fall dramatically against his fist.

  “What's going on?” I whisper to him.

  He swivels in his chair to face me and rolls his eyes toward the ceiling. “We’re all being fired,” he scowls.

  “What? Are you kidding me?”

  “I know, right? This is my fourth layoff this year! What is wrong with people!”

  “You have all been exemplary employees,” Lori continues, projecting her voice over our heads. “And I'd like to offer any of you reference letters with my highest recommendation. As a matter of fact, you can go ahead and write the letters and I will sign them for you.”

  “So that's it?” Derek huffs. “Just like that? Just pack up your stuff and leave?”

  Lori stares him down, saying nothing. She has a frozen smile on her face, the sort you might see on a plastic doll head.

  A few people get up from the table, grumbling to each other. I grip the armrests, wondering if I'm supposed do the same thing.

  Lori walks over to me, her eyes cast to the side. “Thank you so much for trying,” she murmurs, still not looking at me. “I really wish you could've worked out differently.”

  “I just… I don't know… is that it?”

  “That's it!” Mickey growls sarcastically. “Just pack up your shit and go, Dahlia! It's the traditional Friday afternoon layoff!”

  “Oh, can it, Mickey,” Barb drawls. I've never heard her so annoyed. “You're in IT. Those jobs just fall off trees, from what I hear. What the hell am I supposed to do now? I'm almost retirement age!”

  Lori presses her lips into a thin line and stares at the table in front of me. I'm sure this is hard for her, but I'm not feeling sympathetic enough to reassure her.

  “Well, thanks for the opportunity, I guess,” I murmur, then stand.

  Stiffly, I try to walk from the conference room with his much dignity as I can muster. My mind races: what do I need to do now? Anything? Just put my phone back in my purse and go?

  As it turns out, that's all there is. I don't even have a plant on my desk. I don't have anything personal here at all: no pictures of my family, no quirky cubicle decorations to pack up. It’s like I never settled in anyway.

  So maybe it's not that big of a deal? It sure feels like a big deal.

  I almost want to cry as I hand the parking lot attendant my parking slip, thinking this will be last time I will be able to see this poor guy. Alfredo. He has a wife and kids, but they live in Ecuador. See? I know more about Alfredo than a lot of other things. Am I going to miss him?

  Almost in a daze, I drive to August’s apartment. He opens the door for me with a charming smile that seems to fade almost instantly.

  “What's wrong?” he asks me immediately.

  I shake my head in confusion. “I was fired? I think?”

  “What happened?” he barks, holding my elbow and drawing me inside, then closing the door firmly behind me. He wraps his arm around me and guides me to the sofa, steering me like a small boat.

  “Something about revenue…” I murmur. “Something about financials? I don't really understand. “

  He smooths my hair with his palm, sighing. “Oh, you were laid off. Not fired. Laid off, can't be helped sometimes.”

  “Yeah, but I —” my voice chokes off. How can I explain? About Kirkman? About hoping there would be more? He wouldn't even understand.

  “There will be other jobs,” he says in a strong, confident voice. “Lori Coleman was just your first job, wasn't going to be your last job anyway, right?”

  “I guess so,” I admit.

  “Exactly,” he says. “So, your plan to find a new job is simply accelerated. People get in these situations on a regular basis. But you don't to say you were fired. You can say you were laid off. Everyone everyone will understand what that means. It's okay.”

  “Okay,” I sniffle, feeling a little bit better. How does he do that? Just a couple of kind words and I already feel better?

  He tucks his hand under my chin, tipping my face toward his. For the first time since I got here, I see him, really look at him. It's like waking up from a dream, finding him here in real life.

  “Oh… hi,” I smile, almost wanting to giggle. It's so strange to be sitting here.

  “Why are you laughing?” he smiles.

  “I'm just really happy to be here,” I tell him honestly. “I am having a hard time believing this is real.”

  “Oh, it's real, believe me,” he growls. He cups my jaw in his hands and pulls me closer, kissing me deeply. I melt into him, arching my back like a cat. I'm overwhelmed with a desire to wrap my body around him all over again. It's like magic, like some secret knowledge tattooed on my cells. And he is the wizard who unlocked all this.

  I squirm under his touch, pulling my knees up.

  “We need to get on the road,” he chuckles, pulling away slightly. “Maybe we should simmer down a little bit?”

  “I'm not sure I can,” I confess, pulling my knees up tighter. If I angle just right, I wiggle right onto his lap.

  “Oh, you poor thing… you really need it, don't you?”

  “I really do!”

  His hands slide around to the back of my thighs, cupping my ass against his palms. In one smooth motion he picks me up and makes me straddle his lap. His thu
mb drums against the front of my panties, tapping out a surprising rhythm against my clit.

  “Like that? Is that what you need?”

  I can't answer; my breath is caught in my throat. Nimbly, he slides his thumb inside the legband of my panties and strokes my clit gently, rolling it in a gentle, tight circle. Fireworks go off inside my belly, lighting me up from inside. I bite my lip hard and grind against his fingers, letting he guide me to a swift, bursting climax that douses his fingers in my juices.

  “That's it, Dahlia. Come for me,” he groans against my neck, biting me gently. I slump forward and nuzzle against his shoulder.

  “Now I want to nap,” I confess.

  “You can nap in the car,” he murmurs, leaning to one side on the sofa. Before I know what's happening, he's picked me up and is walking back toward the front door. I giggle and pull my arms tighter around his neck, giddy and dizzy.

  “Just these two things?” he asks me. “Your purse? This overnight bag?”

  “Yes,” I nod. He leans down without dropping me and picks up my bags, then hits the private elevator button with his elbow. I snuggle as close to him as possible as he grins, caring me all the way down to the parking lot and depositing me in the cushy leather front seat of his BMW.

  The car purrs when he starts it up and I fasten my seatbelt, unable to suppress this goofy smile that's on my face.

  “Can you carry me everywhere? Like I am some kind of fairytale Princess?”

  He flips sunglasses down over his eyes and smirks, creasing his stubbled cheeks. “If that's what it takes.”

  “I would be okay with that.”

  The drive to Maryland is not very long, and I snuggle comfortably in the passenger seat, watching August navigate us through traffic. He clenches his jaw, silently staring at the horizon. He has a lot on his mind, I know. The logistics of creating a security plan for Kirkman at the MGM on short notice were complicated, he told me. He's distracted, intense.

  I'm enthralled just watching him. His shirt is open at the collar, and his muscular chest swells in the V shape. I like to watch the way the tendons on the back of his hand flex as he grips the steering wheel, the way he scowls as he checks his mirrors, constantly looking around at all the other drivers. There is something very calming about being in the presence of someone who's on such high alert. I feel like I'm being guarded by a knight or something. I feel completely safe.

  And yet…

  “August? Can I tell you something?”

  He nods, looking around for a moment before answering. “You can tell me anything, Dahlia,” he says, but his voice is distracted.

  I draw my knees up tighter. I pick at the stitching on the leather upholstery with my fingernail.

  “I think I might've done something I shouldn't have.” I say in a rush. My heart is beating really loud, and I struggle to get the words out.

  No reaction. He doesn't show that he even heard me.

  “I mean, I thought I should tell you,” I continue in a high sounding voice. “I mean, just to be completely upfront.”

  He taps the turn signal and changes lanes, dipping his head slightly to check the rearview mirror for obstacles.

  “You know, because I wanted to be completely honest with you,” I say. Still, no reaction. Nothing at all.

  “August? Did you hear what I said?”

  He takes a deep breath, flaring his nostrils.

  “Can this wait?” he asks. “We'll be leaving on Sunday. Are you sure this cannot wait?”

  I sit up taller in the seat. “Actually, I don't think this can wait. I think I need to tell you now. Just so we are on the same page. So we don't misunderstand each other.”

  “Misunderstand each other,” he repeats. I hear the dry tone in his voice, and I almost expect him to roll his eyes but he doesn't.

  “Exactly,” I answer, and I am starting to sound exasperated. I knew this was going to be hard, but why is he trying to make it more hard than it has to be?

  “Well, go ahead and say it then.”

  I see the large sign welcoming us to Maryland and get more nervous, realizing that I've only got a few minutes left. Of course, I can always just catch an Uber back from here if I had to. He could just leave me here. I'm sure I can figure it out.

  “I took a picture,” I start, hoping that if I just start talking it will start coming out faster. “With Kirkman. Me and Bunny. And… I showed it to Lori.”

  “Lori Coleman,” he says.

  He doesn't say anything else for a few minutes, while panic continues to rise in my chest. As we take the ramp off the highway, I prepare myself for him to tell me to just get out of the car and start walking back home.

  “Do you think I didn't know this?” he finally asks me.

  We pull in toward the valet and he looks around, assessing the situation in the valet area. I see a man in a suit coming toward the car, speaking up his sleeve like one of those Secret Service guys.

  “Wait… you knew?” I ask, confused. “How did you —”

  “It's my job to know, Dahlia,” he sighs. “Of course I know.”

  My mind reels. Did he just find out? Did he know, all along? Why isn’t he angry?

  He pulls the emergency brake on the car and turns toward me in his seat, taking my hands in his. He looks at me intently, his eyes serious and steely.

  “Dahlia, I need you to understand something,” he begins. “Do I have your full attention?”

  “Yes,” I choke out, nodding earnestly.

  His hands encircle my wrists, caging me. He's not holding me tightly, but I know I couldn't escape even if I wanted to.

  “I've been alone for a long time,” he begins. “By choice, yes, but alone. I'm accustomed to being alone. In fact, my solitude has caused me… trouble in the past. Do you understand?”

  “I — I understand.”

  “Good,” he says. “Because I need you to understand that I'm here with you now. I'm with you. By choice. It's a risk, and not just for me. For both of us.”

  I nod, understanding that what he's saying is absolutely true.

  “So what I'm saying is… I appreciate you telling me, Dahlia. I truly do. I understand that you’re taking a risk by being so honest with me, and I'm going to take risks to be with you too. All right?”

  “All right,” I breathe. I'm not sure I really understand what he's saying, but I sense how important it is to him.

  “Because it's easy to get caught up in a fantasy,” he continues. “But it's important to me that we are completely real with each other, all right? I think that that's the key. That's the important thing: being real with each other.”

  “Being honest,” I offer.

  He pulls me forward, kissing me gently on the forehead, his lips lingering against my skin. I feel his breath pushing my hair back gently.

  “Exactly,” he agrees. “All right. Let's get going.”

  Chapter 41

  August

  Kirkman arrives at the MGM via an ostentatious tour bus, which is not at all what I asked him to do. Dan Smith, a buddy of mine from the service, meets me in front of the tour bus as it pulls up. He's dressed like Secret Service in a dark blue suit, his head shaved bald, the clear curling cord trailing from his ear into his collar.

  Dan enjoys making an obvious show of being security. He says it keeps away a certain group of people. Personally, I like to blend in a little more. It creates a kind of complacency among the people I'm trying to target. But suffice it to say, Dan and I make a pretty good team, approaching security from different angles.

  He rolls his eyes as the tour bus comes to a stop, the brakes hissing loudly.

  “This was not your idea,” he mutters.

  “Hell no, this wasn't my idea,” I confirm. “But I did suggest he not take the helicopter, so I won that one.”

  “There's some reason he couldn't just get a town car?” Dan asks, sucking his teeth derisively.

  “Your guess is as good as mine,” I sigh. “I don't think Kirkman
has any sense of discretion at all. Or this kid just thinks he’s gonna live forever, one of the two.”

  The door opens and two women, giggling, start down the steps, their high-heeled sandals angled to the side for better traction.

  “Dahlia?” I ask, pivoting toward her. She raises her eyebrows at me. I hold my hand out toward the ladies exiting the tour bus. “Can you escort these women to the penthouse with Dan? I would like to have a word with Kirkman before we check in.”

  Dan gives me a relieved nod. Having a woman escort the ladies with him provides an extra layer of security as well as another witness. Some years back, there was a man on security detail who took advantage of some of the young women who were traveling with a well-known entertainer. The security guard got out of line, but there were no witnesses. It went poorly for those women. In the aftermath, there were several other incidents that seemed somewhat less credible, perhaps opportunists or perhaps crimes. In any case, it's best for everyone’s safety if Dahlia goes along.

  “Hey, where are they going?” Kirkman complains, trudging off the bus.

  He jumps the last step and stands in the middle of the valet turnabout, his arms thrown out to either side as though he is expecting a round of applause.

  “I just wanted to go over the protocol with you,” I inform him, firing up my iPad to the slide of bullet points that I have constructed for just this purpose. “First, there only four approved women on the manifest. I need you to strictly adhere to that.”

  He throws an arm around me, hugging me, jostling me. I fight the urge to punch him in the face.

  “Why so serious, August? Still got that stick up your ass?”

  “Second,” I continue, trying to ignore him. “I need you to use the private elevator. I have an access key here for you to carry, but I will always have a backup access key. Dan will have a backup access key. So will Dahlia. Do not attempt to use the public elevators under any circumstances.”

  “Dahlia? Who's that? Is that her?” he starts to follow her, half dragging me along.