A Smart Choice: Arranged Marriage Romance

by Rocklyn Ryder

  A Smart Choice

  Arranged Marriage Romance

  Rocklyn Ryder

  Magpie Press

  Copyright © 2017 Rocklyn Ryder

  All rights reserved worldwide

  No part of this book may be reproduced, uploaded to the Internet, or copied without permission from the author. The author respectfully asks that you please support artistic expression and help promote anti-piracy efforts by purchasing a copy of this book at the authorized online outlets.

  This is a work of fiction intended for mature audiences only. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to events, locales, business establishments, or actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is purely coincidental.

  All sexual activities depicted occur between consenting characters 18 years or older who are not blood related.

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  A Smart Choice

  An Arranged Marriage Romance

  by

  Rocklyn Ryder

  Chapter 1

  Stephany

  Apparently, this isn't how it usually works.

  Raven asks if I understand everything and I nod like she can hear me over the phone. She repeats herself and I remember to speak up as I scroll through the email she sent me that spells out the details.

  "If you have any more questions, don't hesitate to contact me."

  Raven's voice is soft and pleasant and after listening to her for just a few minutes, she has a way of making me trust her completely which is good considering how much I paid for her service.

  I just sent in my application a couple of weeks ago. It took me 3 days to answer all the questions in the hectic hours I refer to as "downtime." After several personal interviews directly with Raven, my understanding was it could take several weeks-- possibly months-- before she would narrow down my matches and then count on a "team" of the people I trust most with the decision to finish the interview process and choose a husband for me.

  Hence the "arranged" part of Raven Swann's arranged marriage service. It's a drastic move in today's times, but it beats the hell out of years of guess work and failed relationships when you're ready for the real thing.

  Once that's accomplished, it's pretty much a done deal. A couple of preliminary dates just to make sure and then rings, vows, rice, and happily ever after.

  Worth. Every. Penny.

  That's not what's happening with my application though and from what Raven says, that's pretty rare.

  I've talked to her several times since she broke the news to me, and no matter how excited and reassuring she sounds when I talk to her I can't help but detect a hint of something in her voice, a hesitancy about this Devon guy she's paired me with. Like she's not 100% it's going to work out between us.

  I go through the email and run through our most recent conversation at the same time.

  Maybe I'm reading into things? She definitely seems to think Devon and I are right for each other, and it's not like she's my hairstylist trying set me up on a blind date-- this is Raven Swann, if she says Devon is right for me, she means he's Mr. Right For Me.

  I'm probably just nervous because it's happening so fast. And because the match is being made directly by Raven. No narrowing it down to a handful of possibilities and then having my most trusted friends in the world decide for me.

  Nope. Raven says she went over my application and knew immediately that this Devon guy would be "a smart choice" for me. Those are the words she used, that's what she said on the phone and those are the words that I keep staring at in the email, "a smart choice."

  Deep down I know the reason I'm not excited is those words. "A smart choice." I don't want a smart choice. That sounds like the sort of thing women were supposed to look for in a man a hundred years ago, "I know he's boring as fuck, dear, but think of his family connections, he's a smart choice."

  Gah!

  OK. So not so deep down. The reason I'm not excited is right up on the surface and I just want to cry.

  I don't want a smart choice. I want love. The real deal. Instant, over the top, when-you-know-you-know love. I want a man who looks at me like I'm made out of magic. A guy who makes me feel like a princess.

  I guess I figured, what with her reputation, that Raven's version of arranged marriage would let me skip the trouble of having to find Prince Charming on my own. I thought all those questions were like a sort of personality test that would tell her who I was and what I wanted in a husband.

  Guess I was wrong. When all is said and done, it looks like Raven Swann isn't any better than some old school matchmaker-- more interested in finding me a man that fits into some antiquated notions of being a provider rather than a partner.

  It's like filling out all those questions was a waste of time. Not to mention the money. Although-- at least there's a guarantee on that.

  Remembering the money back guarantee at least gives me some relief. I read the email again and carefully go over the profile that Raven attached to it.

  Devon James. 29 years old. 6 foot, 2 inches. No weight listed. Ivy league college, no degree listed. No job listed. Special interests listed as "other."

  What the fuck does "other" mean? The application was full of essay questions and fill in the blanks, did he really just type out "other?"

  Not that it looks like he bothered filling in much of anything else either. Seriously, I know that Raven said we wouldn't get much info on each other prior to our first meeting because she prefers to keep her clients from going in with preconceived notions of who they are meeting, but this is ridiculous.

  I don't even get to meet this guy's team first? Like, this is it. The whole enchilada. Devon and Stephy forever. Because Raven Swann said we're a "smart choice."

  I close the PDF of Devon's unprofile and reach for my phone. If my besties aren't going to be picking out a husband for me, they can at least come over here and convince me to go through with meeting the one Raven picked out. And they can bring wine. Lots of wine.

  Chapter 2

  Devon

  I press end and toss the phone on the chair next to me.

  That was the call I was beginning to think I'd never get. Which means I've got about 30 seconds before my mother calls.

  It's about damn time, I think as I get up and walk inside, straight to the bar and make myself a drink. And by "make" I mean I take the cap off the whiskey and take a slug straight from the bottle before filling a glass half way, adding a cherry and calling it a Manhattan.

  They signed me up with the matchmaker years ago.

  After I failed to find a "suitable" wife during my college years they found Raven Swann, a professional matchmaker who supposedly has an uncanny talent for hooking people up.

  Uncle Randy has already promised me the controlling interest in the Foundation as soon as I'm "stable."

  And by "stable," he means married.

  Of course, Randy doesn't know my plans for the changes I'll make to the budget, and what he doesn't know won't hurt anyone.

  I don't care about getting married, always figured that'd be something that came along in its own time, but I sure as fuck want control of the Foundation. I have big plans for the family business and I can't do shit to get that ball rolling until Uncle Randy's out of it completely.

  It's been fucking years since I filled out Raven's crazy-ass application and went through her interviews. I rem
ember her coming all the way out to meet me in person too. She gave me a line about how she wanted to see me in my "own element" and shit.

  I know she didn't think I was serious about getting matched up with anyone. She thought I was some weak-ass rich kid that was letting his parents decide his life for him and then I didn't hear from her for years. Always figured she must have trashed my app, wrote me off as not serious.

  Hell, maybe she thought I was just unmatchable. Wouldn't have been surprised if that was the case, God knows I couldn't find a woman I was willing to marry on my own. Not even when I know it's gonna be temporary.

  I just hope whoever Raven found can stick it out long enough for me to gain control of the Foundation. Once Randal's signature is dry on that paperwork, my wife can have her fucking name back, take her divorce settlement money and find herself a real Prince.

  Cause I'm just a toad with crown.

  I was wrong. It took at least 3 minutes for my phone to start ringing.

  Staring at the caller ID, I let my thumb hover over the answer button while I take a deep swig from my tumbler. I wish my tolerance for booze wasn't so damn high, I'd really like to be buzzed before I answer this call.

  "I already know, Mom..."

  She doesn't even let me finish my sentence. I hold the phone away from my ear and finish the drink.

  "Yes, Mom, Raven called me first. She told me that..."

  I'm back at the bar, pouring more whiskey into the glass and deciding to skip the fruit.

  Mom's still going on about the match. How exciting it is that Raven found a woman for me after all this time and what a difficult bastard I am that it took her so long to find a girl that's right for me.

  Of course, my mother doesn't call me a "bastard." Mom's just thrilled that we're all going out to California to meet my new fiance. She's talking about rings and weddings and honeymoon destinations and making me promise to be on good behavior and not scare this girl away.

  I got the notion that Raven expected us to skip the "team" bullshit and maybe I'd get a chance to meet my bride to be without my family around to make the wrong impression.

  I guess that's too much to expect from a bunch of people who have already put so much effort and expense into dictating my future. Sounds like the whole crew is flying out with me.

  The booze is finally starting to kick in, my head is feeling a little fuzzy and I look into the bottom of the empty tumbler wondering if one more drink will make this conversation bearable or if it'll just land me in shit with the folks.

  "Yeah Mom, sure...Thursday...of course."

  I think she got off the phone so she can call Aunt Joanie. Joan will be a lot more fun for Mom to talk to, I'm sure by the time we board the plane on Thursday, those two will have the rest of my life planned out for me.

  Oh wait-- they already do.

  The trip out here was every bit as annoying as I'd expected. Mom and Aunt Joan droning on about wedding plans, Dad and Uncle Randy dictating the next 5 years of my "life plan" at me.

  At least I managed to get a room on a completely different floor of the hotel than the rest of the family.

  I also managed to commandeer a 6 pack of beer from the bar. It cost me 24 dollars, but it's money well spent as far as I'm concerned.

  Monterey isn't what I expected. The only part of California I've been to before today was LA, this is a damn sight different. For one, it's colder here than I expected. The ocean is stormy and the waves are rolling in high and white-capped.

  Grabbing one of the beers that I put in the mini-fridge, I head out onto my balcony. It's nice. Different from the sunny California you see on postcards. It matches my mood.

  I'm not looking forward to this evening and I'm already breaking the biggest rule-- no alcohol on the first date. I take a long pull from the bottle and drain the beer, fuck the rules. I'm a grown man, if I want a beer, I can have one. If I want 20, I'll have them all.

  This whole thing is ridiculous anyway. I can't believe my own family is doing this to me. Extorting me into getting married to a total stranger.

  I can't believe I'm letting them.

  Fuck!

  I chuck the empty bottle into the trash can with enough force that I'm surprised it doesn't break.

  So much for my grown man theory, I think resentfully as I wander through the suite, might as well jump in the shower before I have to spend the evening with these people-- and meet the woman I'm going to marry.

  I have no idea what to expect. I got a file on her from the match making service but I didn't even bother to open it. I know how Raven works, God knows I've talked to her enough times over the last few years, answering all her fucking questions and assuring her that I really am doing this of my own free will.

  That woman is cagey, she knows what's up. I'm sure that's why she never bothered finding me a wife till now. Truth is, I kinda hoped she'd just lose my file permanently. No such luck. I guess I shouldn't be surprised, really. Not when I keep telling her I really do want a wife.

  Of course, Raven doesn't know I'm in this for convenience. She'd never have accepted my application if I'd been honest with her.

  Raven Swann is a professional matchmaker. She deals in happily ever after, with a healthy dose of till death do us part.

  I'm going to be part of her 1% fail rate and I knew that going in but she got paid and whoever the unfortunate lady is that's about to get stuck with me will end up with a sweet divorce settlement out of the pre-nup when it inevitably hits the fan.

  When all is said and done, no one's really getting hurt, and the people that the Foundation helps are going to come out ahead by a landslide.

  I let the hot water beat on my shoulders and I'm not the least surprised that it does jack shit to release any of the tension. I wonder if the hotel has a masseuse. A short laugh echoes off the shower walls. I wonder if the concierge can get me a hooker, I think as I wrap my hand around my dick.

  Anger burns through me that I'm letting myself get pushed into this and I take it out on my prick. I never needed a fucking prostitute in my life. Never had any trouble getting laid. Now I'm trapped in this suite for the next 4 days and I'm not likely to be able to come and go without someone watching my every move.

  Shit. I wouldn't even be able to sneak a hooker in here.

  Nope. The only woman I'm going to get in this room is my fiance.

  I hope she's fuckable. I brace my weight against the tiled wall with one hand and jerk my dick with the other thinking about the kind of girl I hope Raven found for me. A curvy one, with full tits and an ass made for spanking.

  I don't expect much from a wife that my family bought for me, she just needs to stay out of my way and feel at least as good as my own hand.

  chapter 3

  Stephany

  "I wish you were going," I tell Jaime as she stands behind me curling my hair for me.

  "No you don't, it's way better like this," she answers listlessly.

  Jaime was never a big supporter of the plan. She thinks the whole arranged marriage thing is anti-feminist.

  "I wish I was going!" Kyle squeezes my pillow and rolls onto his back on my bed. I can see him in the mirror as he sighs wistfully and stares up at the ceiling. "It's so romantic."

  Jamie sighs. OK, it's not really a sigh, it's more of a long, disgusted, huff.

  Kyle thinks the whole thing is sweet, he reads too many romance novels.

  "You know Raven does guys too," I remind him for the zillionth time.

  "I don't care who Raven does," Kyle rolls back onto his stomach and stares at me in the mirror with a sarcastic smirk, "I care who does me."

  Jaime's eyes meet mine in our reflection and we both stifle giggles, "I meant Raven can find you a guy," I tell Kyle.

  "I can't afford Ms. Raven Swann," Kyle bemoans a little more dramatically than necessary, "I'm just going to have to find my Prince Charming the old fashioned way."

  "You're going to start kissing toads?" Jaime teases.

  "What do
you mean 'start?' " I say as the pillow that Kyle's been hugging hits Jaime's back.

  I really do wish Jaime and Kyle were coming with me. Just because Raven made this match herself doesn't mean I don't want their opinion. It's not like this is a done deal yet, but I'm under the impression that the team thing is out and it's just supposed to be me and Devon.

  "Maybe you could just sit at the bar?" I stall, "In case I need a rescue?"

  "You look beautiful," Kyle says as my best friends in the world walk me to the door, "You're smart, you're educated, you're employed, and you can do that thing with your feet. If I was straight I'd have married you 7 years ago."

  "If you were straight you'd have married Jennifer Halvers," I laugh as I return his hug.

  Kyle sighs against my shoulder, "Ahh, Jennifer, she had great tits."

  "What do you care about tits?" Jaime laughs as she pulls Kyle out of my arms so she can hug me too.

  I watch Kyle shrug behind her, "Tits are great. What's not to like?"

  "OK, you two, don't be here when I get back." I feel like my parents are seeing me off on my first date as they wave goodbye from my own front porch.

  "Don't get back too soon then," Kyle calls out as I climb into my car.

  "We're staying over," Jaime yells.

  "Gonna eat all your food," I hear Kyle's voice as I start the car.

  I laugh as I pull away from the curb. Good luck with that, I think, there's nothing but Triscuits and peanut butter in my house.

  Chapter 4

  Devon

  I walk out to the lobby where Mom and Joan are waiting and I'm glad I bribed the bartender into filling my flask before the rest of the fam got here.