by Ravenna Tate
Merrick took a quick shower and changed clothes, then asked Chloe to have dinner served on the terrace. It was a beautiful night, and he thought Lynda might enjoy being outdoors. She also might feel more relaxed in the fresh air, and then maybe she’d tell him more about her past.
His staff lit the torches that ringed the screened-in terrace, and Merrick put on soft music. When she arrived, his dick jumped to attention at the sight of her. She’d showered as well because her hair was still damp, and hung in gentle waves that cascaded over her shoulders. She wore a flattering summer dress and matching sandals, and he wondered whether her underwear matched.
“You look very pretty.”
“Thank you.” Her gaze traveled over his body slowly. He’d chosen to wear a polo shirt and jeans because he never bothered dressing for dinner when he was alone.
“You look very nice, too.”
“I don’t usually dress up at home for dinner. I hope that’s all right.”
“Oh goodness, of course it is. I wore this because I wasn’t sure what your expectations were.”
“I don’t have any when we’re home alone, but I’m never going to complain if you dress like this for dinner.”
She smiled, and this time it wasn’t tinged with sadness. Wine was poured and the first course offered. Merrick watched her carefully. She wasn’t used to being waited on while she ate. How odd. He’d always assumed because of Todd’s wealth that Lynda had grown up like this, but maybe he was wrong? Or was it recently she had chosen to live differently? Either way, he wanted privacy with her tonight.
“We’ll be fine on our own. You may leave. I’ll call if we need anything.”
His staff left, and Merrick smiled. “That’s better, isn’t it?”
“I’m not used to it.”
“I noticed. What I’m wondering is why aren’t you?”
“Well, when I was living at home things were similar to this, but I’ve been away from all that for over ten years now.”
“Haven’t you missed it?”
“Merrick, until yesterday, I lived in a one-bedroom third floor walkup. My living room doubled as my office, but that was by choice. I was happy.”
He frowned. Yeah, he should have realized that when all the possessions in her apartment he’d had brought over fit inside her suite. The nagging suspicion Todd had fed him a bullshit story, at least in part, was stronger now.
“But now that you’re here, are you happy to be living in luxury again?”
She looked uncomfortable, and he wondered why.
“I don’t want to insult your apartment. It’s beautiful. It really is.”
He covered her hand with his. “Lynda, we said we’d be open about our feelings.”
“You’re right. Okay, then. Your apartment is amazing. My suite is perfect. If I’d done the decorating myself, there’s very little I’d have done differently.”
“Change whatever you want.”
“That’s not my point. I’m saying that while this is very nice, and extremely comfortable, I could just as easily live without any of it.”
Even though calling Alan had brought back horrible memories, he was glad he’d done so. Something was very, very wrong here. “Of course. That makes sense. You have your trust fund, after all.”
“I haven’t spent any of it.”
It took a great deal of concentration to force a neutral expression to his face, and he wasn’t entirely sure he’d pulled it off. “What?”
“I haven’t touched it. I live off my freelance work.”
Merrick struggled for something to say. “That’s admirable.”
“Why? People do that every day, you know. They live off what they earn.”
“Yes, that’s true.” He had to change the subject quickly, before she noticed how rattled he was. Perhaps calling Alan wasn’t the answer? Perhaps it was Todd he needed to have a little talk with?
Merrick didn’t tolerate anyone bullshitting him, and if his suspicions proved correct, Todd Shelton had pulled off the biggest joke anyone had ever played on him.
Chapter Ten
Lynda hoped he didn’t start asking detailed questions about how she’d lived her life before yesterday. She’d already volunteered more than she had meant to. This was how he lived, and she had to stop acting like she’d never been inside a luxury apartment before.
Her father’s spending had always been out of control, which was part of the reason she hadn’t lived at home since she turned eighteen. Merrick had been inside her childhood home, even though it had been a while, so he knew the surroundings in which she’d grown up. And now he also knew her trust fund was intact. Still, how she had chosen to live was inconsequential. Case closed, as far as she was concerned.
“I’m sure I’ll get used to this again,” she said. “The food is delicious, by the way.” When in doubt, change the subject. He almost looked relieved. Had he wanted to change the subject as well?
“My chef is a genius. I’ll never give him up.”
“Did you get a lot of work done earlier?”
“Yes, I did.”
They ate in silence for a few moments while Lynda struggled with a topic to bring up, but he beat her to it.
“Tell me what designs you’re working on.”
She gave him a big smile, grateful he’d bothered to ask. Then she launched into a detailed explanation of a start-up business campaign she was working on, and how incredibly picky the client was in terms of the logo. Finally, she talked about the marketing strategy she’d suggested, and all the roadblocks her client kept putting up.
“Why is she reluctant to follow your advice? Those are really great suggestions.”
“Thank you, but I think because my field isn’t specifically marketing, she thinks I don’t know what I’m talking about.”
“Well, she’s a fool then. Is she paying someone else to do the marketing?”
“Not yet, but she plans to.”
“When she could have it from you, along with the logo?” He shook his head. “Have you ever thought about working in marketing as well as graphic design? You sound like you have a knack for it.”
Coming from him that meant a lot. “No, I haven’t.”
“You should. I have a lot of contacts. You could work on campaigns freelance, the same as you do your design work.”
Lynda was very surprised by his offer. “I’ll think about that.”
“Good. In the meantime, I’d love to see some of your work.”
“Sure. Do you want me to get my laptop?”
He smiled indulgently. “Let’s finish our dinner first. It’s the one meal I like to linger over, and I try not to do any actual work during it.”
Dessert was almost too much food for her, and then he took his time drinking coffee. Normally she didn’t drink it so late in the day, but she had one cup with him. Since he’d mentioned them trying out his tub earlier, she was hoping she’d have a reason to stay awake. Her earlier resolve never to let him touch her again rolled around in her mind as they watched the sun set over the city.
She had been upset, and with good reason, but he had apologized for leaving her alone last night. And he seemed to be making an effort to be nice today, and to get to know her as a person. They didn’t really know each other, after all. This would take time and effort on both their parts. She had to meet him halfway if there was any chance of getting past why he’d married her in the first place.
When they finally finished, he followed her to her suite and she opened her laptop to show him what she was working on. He pulled a chair over and sat very close to her. She was hyper-aware of his body heat, and kept picturing how he’d looked last night, hard, muscled, naked, and dripping with lust. Her traitorous body responded, sending wetness to her pussy and a sweet tingling sensation throughout her limbs.
When she’d shown him everything she could think of, he gave her a thoughtful look. “What else do you like to do? I’m sure you don’t spend all your time working.”
/> “Well, I go out with my friends.”
“Make sure you invite them over. This is your home now. I don’t want you to think you’re a prisoner here.”
She rolled her eyes. “If they ever speak to me again after that bridesmaid fiasco.”
He looked confused. “What do you mean?”
Didn’t he know? “My friends, including Natalie, my best friend, were all eliminated from the wedding party.”
“Excuse me?”
“André nixed them. He chose people from among your acquaintances. I thought you knew that?”
“I did not. Are you telling me that you didn’t know your maid of honor, or any of the bridesmaids?”
“Not really. Only in passing for a few of them. I assumed that was your decision.”
A muscle in his jaw twitched, and his eyes filled with anger. “Did someone tell you it was?”
“Well, yes. André gave me the distinct impression the wedding plans were your choices. And you know how he is, regardless. I couldn’t say ‘no’ to him. Everything moved so fast. I was pulled along in the wake. Even my dress was one he said you had chosen.”
An expression nothing short of incredulity crossed his features. “You didn’t choose it?”
“Hell no! I wanted something off the rack I’d seen at a shop downtown, but André said I had to wear a dress designed specifically for me, and one that the reporters would recognize.”
He looked really agitated, and Lynda bit back a smile. André was in big trouble, and she didn’t feel the least bit guilty about it. The man had been an insufferable tyrant.
“Lynda, would you excuse me for a moment? I have to make a couple of quick calls before it gets too late, but…” He gave her a meaningful look that left no doubt where his thoughts had just wandered. “We’re going to take a long soak in my tub as soon as I’ve finished. It’s been a day of adjustment for both of us, and I know I need some relaxation.”
She let out a long sigh. “I would love that.” Yeah. Earlier resolve completely gone. She and her husband were going to fuck again.
“Good. I’ll meet you in there. I won’t be long.”
He rose and left her suite. Okay. So that hadn’t been the most romantic proposition, but that wasn’t what he did. He’d told her so. Still, this evening had been way more pleasant than she’d expected. Maybe she’d get used to the lack of romance, too?
Right. Because that’s every woman’s dream.
Lynda forced away the thoughts. Wishing things were different wouldn’t make them so. He was who he was, and if she wanted him to accept her and like her the way she was, she’d have to do the same in return.
She was in this marriage, for better or worse. Papers had been signed. A deal had been struck. This was a commitment that, if she broke by filing for divorce, would ruin her family’s company. She couldn’t do that. And if she was being completely honest, she didn’t hate Merrick.
He wasn’t mistreating her, he wasn’t holding her here against her will, he wasn’t forcing her to give up her work, and he wasn’t trying to isolate her from friends or family. Living in this apartment was the stuff fairytales were made of, although Lynda had never been into those kinds of things.
She thought she’d had the perfect relationship with Rey. She’d been dead wrong. Maybe the perfect relationship didn’t exist? Perhaps she’d been looking at this the wrong way? Maybe what she needed to do was change the point of view, like she did when she was having trouble getting a design just right?
A turn here, a rotation there, and the logo suddenly looked more like she pictured it in her mind. That’s how she’d approach this marriage. She’d tweak things at the corners, little by little, until it felt comfortable and solid. That she knew how to do.
And then she’d work on putting her past where it belonged. In the trash forever, where it could never hurt her again.
****
The last thing Merrick wanted to do was argue with someone right before he planned to fuck his wife, but this couldn’t wait. He didn’t want the revelations Lynda had just given him to weigh on his mind tonight.
André finally answered his phone, and from the sound of his voice, Merrick had woken him. Tough shit. “Did you choose Lynda’s wedding dress, or did she choose it?”
“What? Merrick?”
“Yeah. It’s me. Answer the question.”
“Why the fuck are you calling me this late?”
“It’s not even eight in the evening. Answer it.”
Merrick listened to something rustling. “I fell asleep. Is it really only eight?”
“Stop fucking with me, André. Answer my question.”
“I chose it, okay? She wanted something from a boutique shop in Chelsea, for fuck’s sake.”
“It was her choice to make, not yours. And speaking of choices, why didn’t you let her have her friends in the wedding party?”
“Because they were all like her. Arsty-fartsy types who wouldn’t know a genuine Prada bag from the fake ones sold on every street corner. What’s your problem? This was supposed to make you look good. To make you both look good. Did you expect me to let her choose women who looked like they walked over the bridge from Brooklyn that morning, or let her dress them in something she picked up at a bargain basement sale from Macy’s?”
André had no fucking clue how wrong he was about Lynda and her taste. Plus it hadn’t been his judgment to make. “It wasn’t your job to boss her around and make all the choices. I won’t be using your services again.”
“What?”
“You heard me, André. You’re fired.” Merrick disconnected the call and then paced the great room. He had just defended his wife’s right to make her own choices, and the way she appeared to society as a whole. That wasn’t like him at all, but this situation pissed him off because it had made him look like a fool. He’d done exactly the same thing. He’d judged Lynda and made assumptions that he was slowly discovering were based on incorrect information.
Then again, André had done exactly what Merrick had paid him to do. He’d made him and Lynda look good for the wedding. The press hadn’t had one discourteous thing to say about the dresses, the food, the music, or the reception. Not one. It had been the perfect, fairytale society wedding, and it had gone off without a hitch.
So why did he have a sudden urge to head for his workout room and punch the bag until he dropped over from sheer exhaustion?
Because Lynda had been humiliated by the experience. Because he had assumed everything surrounding the wedding had been her choice, that’s why. Nothing had been her choice. Nothing.
Along with those incorrect assumptions was the stark reality that her father had likely lied to him about her motivation for marrying. That was the next call he needed to make, but once he did, he was certain he would no longer be in the mood to fuck his wife. He didn’t want to hurt her, and as pissed off as he was right now, he was likely to anyway, so he might as well take care of calling Todd.
The call went directly to voice mail so he left a message, asking Todd to call him back any time of the day or night, as soon as he got this message.
Then he paced the room again.
She was waiting for him in the bathroom. She probably had the tub filling, and she might even be naked. He should be there, with her, not doing this, but he wasn’t a circus animal. He couldn’t get it up and enjoy it while in this state of mind.
After leaving her alone last night, even though he had apologized for it, if he left her there now, waiting, it would hurt her. So he was fucked either way. He was supposed to be earning her trust, not convincing her he was a lying sack of shit and didn’t give a crap about her feelings.
Fuck it all to hell and back. He had to figure out what the hell was going on here. If she hadn’t married him for the material comforts and the social standing he could give her, why the hell had she agreed to this? For her father’s fucked up company? That no longer rang true. Not based on what he now knew about her.
Sh
e had walked away from everything she’d grown up with over ten years ago. She’d told him that, and her story sounded more legit now than Todd’s did. Everything else he’d observed and recently discovered about her fit, but only if he discounted what her father had told him.
Which meant only one thing. Todd had lied to him. Merrick tried to recall any interaction he’d noted at the reception between Lynda and her father, but he realized there hadn’t been much. She hadn’t even danced with him. At the time, Merrick hadn’t asked why not. Todd had been very drunk, and he’d assumed that was the reason.
From Todd’s perspective, he and Lynda were close and always had been. That obviously was not true. Merrick’s first thought was to march upstairs and simply ask her. Just outright confront her about what Todd had told him, but he also realized that was the wrong approach until he had more information.
“Fuck this!” he shouted to the empty room. Everything was off center. It was all fucked up, and Merrick didn’t like it. Something was very wrong here, and the only conclusion he kept reaching meant he’d been lied to. And that meant he was now vulnerable.
He didn’t do well in that position. Heads would roll for this, starting with Todd’s, if what Merrick suspected was true. No one made a fool out of Merrick Dalton. No one.
Chapter Eleven
Lynda had chosen the prettiest robe she owned, and then debated whether to wear anything under it, but decided that would be silly. She sat on the edge of the sunken tub, watching it fill with water. It would take a while, but since she had no idea how much time Merrick would be on the phone, she was running only hot water into it for now. She didn’t want the water to get cold and then have to wait while it filled a second time.
The bathroom was so ornate, with brass faucets and embossed tiles on the ceiling. She loved the clean lines of the cabinets and furniture. Everything in here had been designed for relaxation and comfort. She wondered whether Merrick had done it himself or used a decorator.
She wandered around the bathroom while she waited, then grew bored with that and ventured into his bedroom. She wanted to look around but didn’t want him catching her doing it, in case he thought she was snooping. She had no clue how private a person he was, but based on what little she knew so far, he seemed to value it.