by Tawny Taylor
“O-okay.”
“Maybe you can ask someone else, just in case?” Michelle added.
“I don’t have anyone else to ask.”
“Nobody?” Michelle’s gaze met Angela’s in the mirror. That had to be a lie. A girl like Angela, not having any friends? Sure, she was a little boastful and self-centered, but she was also gorgeous and articulate and educated.
“Nope. Nobody.”
Dammit. Could this be any more awkward? Michelle could think of a million things she’d rather do than stand up in Angela’s wedding, like have all her fingernails and toenails ripped out by the root. But she didn’t have the heart to tell Angela no if it meant she wouldn’t have anyone there with her on her wedding day. “No family? Cousins? Aunts? Uncles?”
“No family. At least, none that I would want there.”
Clearly there was more going on in Angela’s life than she’d ever let on. And for the first time, Michelle saw her as less of a bitch and more of a woman who had problems. Serious ones, if this sudden marriage to a virtual stranger was any indication.
Angela dropped the bottle of lip gloss in her purse and turned around. “I’ll be blunt. I realize you were thinking there might be something going on between you and Tage. I’m not blind. Maybe he hurt you. Maybe you wish he was marrying you instead. If things were reversed and you were marrying him, I probably wouldn’t be so eager to be your maid of honor, either. This is a strange situation we’re in. Both of us.”
Michelle didn’t know how to respond, other than to nod. She wasn’t sure if she wished Tage were marrying her or not. She’d had her chance. She’d turned him down.
Angela asked, “Do you think I’m making a mistake, marrying him?”
“I can’t judge—”
“You do. You think it’s a mistake.”
Michelle shrugged. “I don’t know your situation or why you’ve made that decision. So how can I judge you?”
“True. I’ll tell what I think about his proposal. I don’t have any silly illusions that the marriage is going to be all roses and romance. It’s an arranged marriage, more or less. But hey, arranged marriages and marriages of convenience have been going on for hundreds of years. And not all of them were unhappy.”
This was blowing Michelle’s mind. A beautiful, educated woman like Angela, marrying a man she didn’t love. When she could have anyone. The man of her dreams. Why would she do that? Why would she settle for less? And Tage. Tage. What was he thinking, proposing to one woman and then turning around and proposing to another a week later? Obviously, he didn’t care who he married. He just wanted a wife. Why? “Of course not, but—”
“I might be happy, too.” Angela didn’t sound convinced.
What the hell was going on?
To think she might have said yes to him. And if she had . . . a little shiver vibrated through Michelle’s body. What a mistake that would have been, marrying a man who didn’t give a crap about who he was saying those vows to. As much as Michelle didn’t want to know all the nitty-gritty details of this so-called arranged marriage, she sort of wanted to understand why he was in such a rush to find a wife. And because she knew, maybe a little better than Angela, how desperate he was to marry anyone, she felt a little torn about keeping her mouth shut and letting Angela go ahead with something she was clearly having some doubts about.
“Why are you doing this?” Michelle asked.
“Because it means I won’t ever have to struggle again.”
Again?
What was she talking about? As far as Michelle knew, Angela had been raised in an upper-middle-class suburb, had attended private schools all her life, and hadn’t ever seen any adversity greater than the occasional ugly breakup with a rich boyfriend.
Angela leaned back against the counter. “Maybe I should level with you. My life hasn’t been exactly as wonderful as I might have led everyone here at work to believe. I didn’t grow up in Palo Alto. I didn’t go to Stanford. Or even community college. And my parents weren’t doctors. They were alcoholics and drug addicts. Unemployed. Unemployable. Much of my life we were homeless. I stole food to survive. I stole a lot of things to survive. And I’m not proud of what I’ve done. I try to pretend that that life wasn’t mine, that I didn’t do those things.”
Michelle was speechless. Not in a million years had she ever imagined this gorgeous, seemingly perfect woman had been homeless, stealing to survive. She was so polished and beautiful. But it did maybe explain her ambition and her drive to succeed.
“So, now maybe you understand?” Angela asked softly. “I’ve always been afraid of ending up back there, in the gutter. In despair. This marriage is an insurance policy, a guarantee I won’t ever be homeless or hungry again.”
“Yes, I understand. Now.”
Angela continued, “I don’t have any childhood friends. Most of the kids I grew up with are in jail. Some are dead. Some are still living in Modesto, but I haven’t spoken to them in ages. And my parents . . . I have no idea where they are anymore. I used to try to stay in touch with them, but it’s difficult. I gave them a cell phone once, but they sold it for drug money.” She pressed her lips together. They were trembling a tiny bit. “So now that you know the truth, will you be my maid of honor?”
After what she’d just heard, she couldn’t let her discomfort and torn emotions get in the way. “Yes. I’ll be your maid of honor.”
Angela flung her arms around Michelle and literally lifted her off the floor. “Thank you,” she whispered. She set Michelle back on her feet. “Sorry about that. I got a little carried away.”
“No problem,” Michelle said, fake smile in place, but her voice flat.
“You look and sound so enthusiastic. Was it the hug? Or is the arranged marriage part still bothering you?”
“Neither,” Michelle lied.
Angela tipped her head to the side. “I’m sorry if Tage’s proposal to me hurt you somehow. Please tell me if it does. I’ll be more respectful of your feelings if I know the truth.”
“Okay, yes. Maybe. Maybe it does hurt a little.”
Angela’s posture wilted. She looked genuinely regretful. “I’m so sorry. About yesterday. About asking you to be my maid of honor. If it’s going to be too difficult, don’t feel obligated—”
“No, I said I would do it, and I will.”
Angela didn’t speak for several seconds. But her eyes teared up. “You’re a very generous and kind person. A much better person than me. Tonight he’s having a dinner party. I’m meeting his family. Will you come?”
Ugh. “S-s-sure.”
“I’m so sorry for dragging you into this. Please tell me the truth, were you dating him? I swear I didn’t know. You told me you weren’t seeing him, so I took you for your word. But I thought I saw something between you two, chemistry.”
“No, I wasn’t dating him. But I thought there was something between us, too. I haven’t spoken to him in . . . a couple of weeks.” Getting anxious to get to work, Michelle fiddled with her purse strap. “Your engagement came as . . . quite a shock.”
“It was a shock to me, too.” Her expression on the dim side, she stared down at the huge ring on her finger. “I hope I’m doing the right thing.”
“I hope so, too.” Michelle glanced at her watch. “We’d better get to work. It’s almost ten after.”
“Oh damn. Sorry. After what I’ve done to you already, the last thing I need to do is get you in trouble.” Angela shoved open the door. “By the way, I’ll be dropping to part-time after the wedding.”
“You are?”
“Yes. And I’m going to request that all my bigger clients be turned over to you.”
“Wow, that would be nice. If it happens.”
“Oh, it will. Trust me.” Angela gave her head a firm shake. Then she reached out and squeezed Michelle’s hand. “At least that’s one thing I can do to help you out. We’ll work together on the transition. I’m giving notice today.”
That was a nice surprise
. A great one, actually. Angela had some of the biggest clients in the company. Taking over those accounts would mean she could get a raise, and a promotion to senior account representative. “Thank you.”
“Thank you.”
Absolutely dumbfounded by Angela’s shift from coldhearted, selfish client-shark to generous and giving friend, Michelle followed Angela into the office.
If this morning was any indicator, today was going to be an interesting day.
And tonight . . . probably a total nightmare.
She’d done it, turned things around. Damn, she was good. She’d almost lost control of the situation. But her hard work and dogged determination had paid off. Soon she would be a member of the Gryffon family. The rest would be a cakewalk.
One week. That was it. Seven days. That soon she would have what she wanted. The world would be in her hands.
Talen’s day was shitty. He had woken late, gotten a flat tire on the way to work, and had learned his biggest client was pulling the plug and going to a competitor.
But that was nothing compared to having missed those precious few minutes with Michelle in the elevator. Despite the flat tire, he’d arrived at work in time to watch her walk from her car into the building. Everything in him wanted to follow her in and catch her before it was too late. But he didn’t do it. She wanted him to leave her alone. It was the least he could do.
The rest of the day, from that point forward, had gone downhill. And now he was with his future wife. He didn’t want to be sitting here with her, Angela. He wished it was Michelle sitting across from him, discussing the plans for their wedding over dinner.
Angela was happy, excited. He could see it in her face, her eyes. “Michelle is going to be my maid of honor,” she announced.
Talen’s gut twisted. Just the sound of her name sent a wave of regret and despair racing through him. “Really?”
“Yes. She’s my closest friend.” Angela tipped her head to the side. “I thought you would be happy. You don’t look so glad. Don’t you want her at the wedding?”
“Yes, of course I do.”
“Are you sure?”
“Um-hm.”
“Okay. I’m glad you said that because I invited her tonight. She’s coming.” Angela reached across the table, slipped her hand into his. It felt small and delicate, and a little flicker of protectiveness ignited within him. She sensed he had feelings for Michelle. Perhaps telling her the truth would be the right thing to do.
No, what purpose would it serve? It might make her uneasy. It might cause a problem with their friendship. Better if he kept his mouth shut.
“We’re going dress shopping together, too,” his future wife told him as she lifted her glass with her other hand.
“That’s good.”
“I want to wear a formal gown. White.”
“You can wear whatever you want,” he said.
“Will you wear a tuxedo?”
Ugh. He didn’t give a damn about the details of the wedding. But Drako had warned him that this stuff meant a lot to a woman. He should let her have whatever she wanted. Flowers. Tuxedos. Fancy, frilly dresses. Anything. “I’ll wear a tuxedo if it will make you happy.” He would be content to keep things simple. Simple was good.
She set down her glass and picked up her fork. “I want this wedding to be everything I dreamed about when I was a little girl.” Clearly she wasn’t thinking simple.
“Then it will be. Whatever you want.”
“Thank you.” She beamed a brilliant smile at him.
“No need to thank me. I want you to be happy.”
“I believe I will be. I genuinely do.”
“Good.”
If only he felt the same way.
If only.
He checked his watch.
“She’ll be here at seven,” Angela said.
Seven o’clock. In less than a half hour, he would see her. Somehow he would have to keep his hands off her, and his head straight.
Drako. He needed Drako to get here pronto.
16
Two blue lines. There were two effing blue lines.
Two.
Not one.
One was good.
Two . . . two was soooo not good.
How the hell had this happened?
Technically, Michelle knew how it happened. Everyone over the age of five knew where babies came from. But she didn’t understand how Tage’s DNA had met with her DNA to produce the little person who was now growing inside her. They had had sex. Once. Unprotected sex. Almost two weeks ago. But he’d pulled out. That should have kept her safe.
Should have.
If it weren’t for the fact that she hadn’t been touched by another man in ages, she would have sworn he couldn’t be the father. But it had to be him.
Two blue lines. Ohmygod.
Now what? What the hell was she going to do?
Tage deserved to know he would be a father in roughly nine months. But he was marrying someone else in less than a week. And that someone else didn’t deserve to be hurt. Angela had already given notice at work and had already turned over all her big clients, most of them to Michelle. Angela had even talked to an agent about putting her condo up for sale.
Shit, what was she going to do?
Abortion?
No. She just couldn’t.
Adoption?
Her stomach lurched.
How could she give away her child?
She wrapped her arms around her waist and slowly sank to the floor. If this child was born, everything would be changed. Everything. Her future. Tage’s future—he would be a father. Angela’s future—she would be a stepmother.
Dammit.
Abortion.
Adoption.
No.
This was her baby. Her child. She would raise him or her, love him or her.
Tage. Angela. They needed to know. She had to tell them both. Tage first. Then Angela. But wasn’t it better if she saw her doctor before she told anyone, just to make sure? Maybe the tests were wrong—all five. Maybe she had something else that mimicked a pregnancy? She could only hope. Wasn’t it awfully early for a positive test? And what were the chances that he’d impregnated her when they’d had sex once, and he’d pulled out? A million to one? A billion?
Oh hell, who was she kidding? She was pregnant. The first test hadn’t lied. Neither had the second, third, or fourth.
Hands trembling, she picked up her phone and dialed her doctor’s phone number. After she made her appointment, she would go to Angela and Tage’s engagement party and pretend nothing was wrong.
By seven o’clock, Talen was in absolute misery. His future wife, on the other hand, seemed to be in heaven. She was engaged in a lively conversation with Rin, Drako’s wife. Drako and Malek were at the bar, getting themselves a couple of drinks to ease the tedium. Lei was with Malek, quiet, reserved, and still a little pale.
Michelle was standing next to her, trying to look comfortable when she clearly did not feel that way.
He checked on Angela. She was still jabbering away. Michelle, on the other hand, looked like she wanted to crawl into a hole somewhere and hide.
He went to her.
“I’m sorry about this,” he whispered, trying to pretend he didn’t want to take her into his arms and kiss her until she couldn’t speak.
“I would say it isn’t your fault, because my being invited here isn’t. But the rest of it is your fault. So, I’ll accept your apology. Maybe.” She lifted her eyes to his. Dammit, did she have to look so fucking beautiful? Did she?
“I’m glad for that, then,” he said.
Her gaze jerking away from his, she whispered, “I needed to speak with you anyway. In private.” She nodded toward Angela and Rin. “I don’t want Angela to hear what I have to say.”
“Okay. I’ll call you later and arrange for a time—”
“No,” she cut him off. “I need to talk to you tonight. Now. Right now. Before I lose the nerve.” She hugged herse
lf, hands grasping her arms tightly.
Could it be she’d had a change of heart? Was she wishing she had accepted his proposal after all? If that were true, what would he do? Breaking his engagement with Angela would no doubt hurt her. She’d told him she had made some changes at work. She was selling her home.
And yet... he could have Michelle as his wife. Sweet little Michelle.
“Please. It won’t take more than a minute,” she muttered.
He glanced left. He glanced right. Now both his brothers and their wives were clustered around Angela. She probably wouldn’t see them leave the room if they were quiet.
He had to hear what Michelle wanted to tell him.
He jerked his head toward the back exit. “This way.” Michelle nodded and followed him. He pushed out the rear exit, stepping into the cool, dimming evening. The sun had already sunk below the western horizon, but streaks of salmon still stained the sky, broken by dark indigo clouds. The dim light made Michelle’s skin look silvery, iridescent as she turned to face him.
“I have something I need to tell you.” Her eyes dropped to her hands, clasped together in front of her body. She visibly swallowed.
What the hell was going on? “What is it?”
“I’m . . . Oh God.” She staggered back, clapped her hands over her mouth.
“What’s wrong? Are you sick?”
“Yes.” Whirling around, she staggered several steps away, bent at the waist, and vomited.
He hurried to her side, gathered her hair in his fist, and wrapped an arm around her shuddering body for support as she heaved a second time. From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the back door opening. A blade of light cut through the darkness to their right. Then the door slammed shut again.
As he held her little quaking, retching body, an almost overwhelming wave of protectiveness crashed through him. She was ill. What was she even doing here? Did she have anyone to care for her? Someone should drive her home and make sure she was okay.
When the gagging and retching stopped, she pushed out of his arms and lifted tear-filled eyes to him. “Sorry.”
“No need to apologize. You’re ill. You should go home.”