“And how’d that work out?”
I chuckle. “Not well, obviously.”
He squeezes me into him and kisses my forehead. “I’m sorry you had to go through the humiliation of your husband publicly cheating on you, but I’m not sorry about how it turned out.”
“It was definitely one of the hardest things I’ve gone through.”
“Not the hardest?”
I shake my head against his chest. “No, that distinction belongs to losing my grandfather and losing you. Those were equally painful.”
Nick tilts my chin up to face him and kisses me, his tongue licking along the seam of my lips and pushing inside. While our tongues glide, he grips me tighter before he pulls away. “Can I make a confession?”
I nod, unsure what he’s going to tell me.
“The day I saw your engagement announcement in the paper, I got black-out drunk. I did the same when I saw your wedding photos.”
Tears spring to my eyes. “Can I confess something to you?”
He nods.
“All I could think about on my wedding day was you and how it should’ve been you up there.”
He cups my cheek and runs his thumb along the skin. “Fuck, we wasted so much time. Time we could’ve been together.”
“We just have to make the most of the time we have now.”
He gives me a rakish smile. “Well, I can certainly think of one way we can make the most of it.”
He rolls over me and I yelp. His lips trail kisses down my body. And boy, does he make the most of the next hour.
Forty-Two
Nick
Three months into our marriage and Mazzy and I have fallen into a rhythm. The days I’m not on shift or coming off shift, we hit the gym together in the morning. Then we usually have sex in the shower. She’s been painting more often and has turned one of my guest rooms into a makeshift studio. She’s been out for more wine nights with Jemma’s friends, and Ava has been out to the house a couple of times. Ava’s still as blunt as ever—though I prefer her bluntness to all the bullshit the society types try to shove up your ass. Mazzy and I have gone to a few more events in the city but haven’t had any more run-ins with my brother. Thank God. Dr. Schwartz tells me the board is thrilled with how I’ve been able to turn my reputation around.
All in all, married life is fucking bliss and I’m not sure why I always stuck my middle finger up at it.
Today I’m taking Mazzy for a walk on one of the nature trails just outside of town. It’s a gorgeous sunny day, and now that we’re out of the depths of summer, it’s more enjoyable.
We’re walking the path hand in hand, content in our comfortable silence. The two of us have studiously avoided any conversation about what will happen once the six months are up. But the closer we get to the end of our agreement, the more something niggles at my mind. I’ve avoided bringing it up, but I can’t put it off any longer.
“Maz, I know you have your trust fund, right?”
“Yeah…” She sounds wary.
I second-guess my decision to bring up this topic, but I figure we have to have the conversation at some point, so why not now? “I’m wondering why you came to me to get married so you could get the rest of your grandfather’s estate right away. Why didn’t you just wait until you met someone and wanted to marry them?”
Her hand stiffens in mine.
“It’s obvious to me now that it’s probably not about the money. So if it’s not about the money, what is it?”
She’s quiet for a few long strides and I don’t pressure her, knowing she’ll speak when she’s ready.
“I can’t tell you,” she finally says.
I stop and turn to face her, still holding her hand. “What do you mean you can’t tell me? Don’t you trust me?”
She drops my hand and cups my face in both her hands. “I do, totally. But I can’t tell you. Not because I don’t want to, but because the person it involves made me promise not to say anything and I have to honor their wishes.”
I step back so her hands drop from my face.
“Nick, don’t be upset. It’s nothing bad or illegal or anything.”
“How the hell do you want me to feel? You’re keeping something from me. We’re back on track, better than ever, and you’re keeping something from me? How am I supposed to trust you?”
“You can trust me.”
“Are you sure? I thought that once before.” I cross my arms. That dig was uncalled for, but I couldn’t stop it from coming out.
Her neck and chest are splotched with red just like that day at her condo so many years ago. She’s angry. Well, welcome to the club.
Mazzy says, “Don’t be an asshole.”
“I’m not being an asshole. I’m just telling you that I don’t appreciate it when my wife keeps things from me.”
“It has nothing to do with you. Trust me when I tell you there’s nothing to be concerned about.”
“If that’s that case, why don’t you just tell me?”
She lets out a groan of frustration and grips her hair at the roots. “I already told you. I made a promise!”
“Great. So we’re back to me not being able to trust you again.” My blood pressure must spike because the artery in my neck throbs.
“I’m not doing this with you, Nick. We can talk once you have a leveler head.” She stomps off back the way we came.
“It’s hard to trust someone when you know they’re keeping something from you,” I call out, but she ignores me and continues up the path until she disappears.
What the hell is she hiding?
We drive home from the trail in silence, and Mazzy heads out shortly afterward. I don’t know where she went, but she took her car with her. When she’s still not home at nine at night, I wonder whether she went back to her place in the city.
What the hell could she want the money for?
I realize I don’t even care that much what it’s for, but it bothers me that she won’t tell me. Aren’t wives supposed to confide in their husbands? Does she even view me as her husband?
This whole situation is so confusing and convoluted. We’re living like we’re husband and wife, but neither of us knows what’s going to happen in another three months. Is that the problem? Does she need to see what becomes of us before she confides in me? And if so, can I really blame her for feeling that way? I did already promise her once that we’d be together then pulled the chute at the last minute. Maybe she’s worried I’ll do the same to her again.
I hear the front door open, and the relief that swamps me tells me exactly how worried I was that she’d stay in the city tonight.
As soon as she walks into the living room and I see her red-rimmed eyes, I know I have to make this right. We can deal with what she’s doing with her money when the time comes. If we decide to remain together after the six months, maybe she’ll tell me then.
“Hey, I’m sorry.” I stand from the couch and walk over to her, then envelop her in a hug.
“I’m sorry too.” She wraps her arms around me and squeezes me tightly.
We stay like that for a moment and I breathe her in—her scent, the feel of her body wrapped around mine, and the sound of her breathing.
Fresh tears are running down her cheeks when she pulls back. “I wish I could tell you, Nick. I do.”
I nod. “I believe you. It’s just hard knowing there’s something you’re keeping from me, but we can deal with that when the time comes.”
She looks unsure, but she nods.
“I guess we had our first official fight as a couple, huh?” I tuck some of her loose hair behind her ear.
She chuckles and wipes her cheeks. “I guess so.”
“Is this the part where we get to have make-up sex? Because I was really looking forward to that part.” I grin.
She laughs harder this time. “I’m looking forward to that part too.”
“What do you say we get started then?”
She smiles, all traces of discont
ent gone. “You don’t have to ask me twice.”
She wraps her arms around my neck and kisses me fiercely, putting all the emotion and passion into it she can. My dick strains the confines of my pants as I grip her ass while our tongues tangle. She pulls back and places a kiss on my neck then lifts my T-shirt. I help her by pulling it off all the way. Her lips coast down my chest and her tongue follows my treasure trail until she’s on her knees in front of me.
Holy hell.
She makes quick work of my belt and my jeans, pulling my steel length from my boxer briefs. She shoves my dick in her mouth until the head is pushing so far into the back of her throat, I’m surprised she’s not gagging.
God, I love how my wife gives head. Like she’s completely devoted to the job and can’t ever get enough.
She works the base with her hand while her mouth works the end. Saliva drips out of the sides of her mouth, and the sloppy sounds ricocheting around us rachet my desire even higher. I do my best to let her do her thing, but eventually I can’t hold off from gripping the back of her head with one hand and face-fucking her. My balls tighten and I hold her down on my cock until she’s had enough and I yank her off. If I let her stay on her knees, I’ll be busting a nut in a minute, and I’ve got other plans for us.
She’s gasping for air when I yank her up by the underarms, wasting no time before I tug her leggings down to her calves, along with her underwear. Then I spin her around and bend her over the back of the couch so that she’s splayed before me.
This time I get on my knees and eat her out from behind. God, she tastes fantastic. Like nothing I’ve ever known, and it’s a flavor I’ve become addicted to.
She cries out the moment my tongue hits her clit, and she moves her pelvis up and down when I tease her opening. My hands hold the insides of her upper thighs to make sure she’s splayed wide. I work my tongue in and out of her until she’s a writhing mess, then I return my attention to her clit—flicking and sucking and making my tongue flat and wiggling it back and forth.
She’s close, and I can’t wait to taste the fullness of her flavor when she comes.
I return my attention to her center, then when I think she can’t take any more, I move even farther back, playing with her other entrance with my tongue and using my fingers to massage her clit.
She goes off like a bomb, crying out and pumping her pelvis into the couch so much I have to work to keep her still. I return to her opening and lap her up until the height of her orgasm is done. Then I pull back and look at her glistening pussy, knowing I have to get in there. I want to see ribbons of myself all over it.
I grip the back of her hair and pull it back so that I see her face better. It’s slack with lust and need, and I bite my bottom lip when I push into her slowly. We both moan as I slide into her wet heat.
I don’t give her time to recover from her climax. Instead I pull back out and slam into her, loving the way her ass jiggles each time I do.
Her leggings are stretched between her calves and I still have my jeans on, the belt jiggling against the hardwood each time I press into her body.
I fuck her like an animal in heat, and we’re both loving every minute of it. My every nerve ending is on fire and my cock swells as my orgasm approaches. She’s close too. I feel her insides pull on my length until she cries out and her womb tries to milk my cock. I thrust a few more times before pulling out and jerking my dick until I come on a groan and paint her pussy white.
I bend over her, kissing her spine. “You okay?” I ask, worried I was too rough.
When she regains her breath, she speaks. “That was amazing.”
I chuckle against her back. “I guess it’s true what they say about make-up sex. We should fight more often.”
Forty-Three
Mazzy
I didn’t schedule a meeting with my dad, but I’m in the elevator headed up to his office anyway. Nick is at the hospital today, and while I was home alone, running over everything that’s happened in the past couple of days, I decided that I need to see my dad and get his blessing to tell Nick the truth.
Luckily, Dad’s in his office when I arrive and his assistant announces me, though it’s clear I’ve caught him off guard. He’s flustered as he stands from behind his desk to come say hello.
“Sweetheart, I wasn’t expecting you.” He hugs me and kisses my cheek as he always does, but I swear I smell alcohol on his breath. It’s not like my dad to drink midday.
“Sorry to just show up, but I need to discuss something with you.”
He holds me at arm’s length by the upper arms. “Is everything okay with you and Nick?”
I can’t decipher if the worried expression on his face is because Nick might break my heart or because our marriage might end prematurely. “Sort of. That’s what I’ve come to talk to you about.”
“Have a seat.” He gestures to the couch and chairs. I sit in one the chairs while he heads to the bar in his office. “Would you like a drink?”
“Um… no. I’m fine, thanks.”
He pours three fingers of whisky and brings it over to where he sits down on the couch, taking a big sip from the glass. “So what’s going on then?”
“Nick and I have been getting close lately and we have… feelings for each other.” Neither of us have named our feelings, but we’re on the same page—at least I hope we are.
“Well that’s good, isn’t it?” He leans back and crosses his ankle on his opposite knee.
“It is. But it presents some challenges since I’m keeping something from him. Namely the reason I wanted to get married in the first place.”
He cocks his head. “You didn’t tell him anything about Pembrooke’s troubles, did you?”
I shake my head. “No. But I want to. It doesn’t feel right to keep it from him anymore now that our relationship isn’t fake.”
“Absolutely not.” My dad tosses back the rest of his drink and stands abruptly. “No one can know.”
“Dad, I understand your concern about employees finding out and jumping ship, but Nick and I are doing well, and this is an issue between us. He won’t tell anyone. He’s as trustworthy as they come. Plus, he doesn’t even like this world.”
He stops pacing and whips around to face me. “Yes, he’s made it very clear that he despises the wealthy. I’m sure he’d take great pleasure in seeing Pembrooke fail.”
Now I stand. “That’s not true. Not if it hurt me.”
He pushes his hand through his thinning hair. “He can’t know, Mazzy. This is to stay between us.”
I toss my purse on the chair and step toward him. “I can’t continue to keep this from my husband. What’s really going on, Dad? There’s more to this, isn’t there?”
“It’s exactly what I told you.”
But I don’t believe him. Because the dad I know and have looked up to my whole life doesn’t day drink alone in his office or ask me to lie to people I care about. Now that I think about it, that dad wouldn’t ask me to marry someone to further his gain either. “Bullshit.”
My dad’s eyes flare and mine probably do too because I’ve never cursed at my father. “Mazzy—”
I put up my hand. “No, if you want my help with this and you want me to fork over a bunch of money to you, I want the truth. What’s really going on?”
He stares at me and I hold his gaze so he will see that I’m serious. Eventually his face crumbles and he slinks back to the couch, collapsing on it with his head in his hands.
I sit beside him and place my hand on his back, leaning into him. “Tell me.”
When he looks up, there are tears in his eyes. I’ve never seen my dad cry. Not even when my grandfather died. It strikes a spark of fear in me because I wonder what could possibly be worse than his father dying.
“Will you still help me if I tell you the truth?” His voice is raw, and my throat closes up.
Emotion overwhelms me and tears well in my eyes. “Just tell me the truth.”
“I did somethi
ng stupid, damn it.” His fists lands on the coffee table with a bang and his glass bounces. “Richard said it was a sure thing.”
Richard? Head of Finance Richard?
“What happened?”
“He had the inside scoop on an investment that was supposed to be a sure thing. I didn’t have enough liquid equity of my own to buy in, so I borrowed from the company thinking I’d pay it back. It went bust and I lost it all.”
I open my mouth to say something, but nothing comes out.
My father stole from the company?
“Dad, how could you?” I stand and pace. I can’t believe this.
“I didn’t expect to be in this position. Richard said it was a sure thing!”
“Nothing is ever a sure thing!” I shout.
“I know, I know that. But I really thought this would come through.”
Then another question dawns on me—why my dad would need so much money?
“But what did you need the money for that you risked so much?” I stop with my hands on my hips and stare at him.
“Nothing specific, but Mazzy, it’s always good to make more money. It’s not like you can ever have enough.”
I can’t believe what I’m hearing. “It’s not good if you’re screwing a bunch of your employees in the process! Don’t you have enough already? You and Mom have everything you could ever want. Why wasn’t it enough?”
“I don’t know!” he yells back. “I wanted to make more.”
We’re both silent for a minute. Competing thoughts swirl in my brain as I try to make sense of this situation.
Eventually he speaks. “Now you understand why you can’t tell Nick. If this gets out, I’m ruined.”
Don't Mind If I Do : A Fake Marriage Romantic Comedy Page 19