Masters for Hire

by Ginger Voight

  “Devlin, do you take this woman to be your wife?”

  It was almost like a dream as he recited the vows, promising himself to me, to love me and cherish me, to be true to me and honor me, for all the days of our lives.

  “Coralie, do you take Devlin to be your husband?”

  The question repeated over in my head, like an old vinyl record that caught in a groove. Do you take Devlin to be your husband… your husband… your husband…

  “I do,” I found myself saying.

  “Do you have the rings?” the minister asked, and I stared at Devlin, dumbfounded. Did we have rings?

  Both Darcy and Lucy stepped forward, each with rings in their hands. Mine was encrusted with diamonds, to match the engagement ring he had just placed on my finger over an hour and a half before. His was a thick, plain band that would effectively end his escorting career the second I slid it on his finger.

  I was quick to do just that.

  “What God has joined together, let no man tear asunder,” the minister declared. “I now pronounce you, husband and wife.”

  Wife? I was somebody’s wife?! What the fuck was happening?

  Devlin picked me up into those strong arms as he kissed me, sealing our commitment and signing our covenant.

  The next hour flew by in a blur. There was a lot of champagne; that much I remember. We all piled into the limo and cruised the strip, drinking and laughing, celebrating our good fortune. We were two newly married couples with our futures ahead of us, filled with infinite possibilities.

  We dropped off Darcy first, because she still had a lot of work to do on her new collection. Then we went back to our new hotel, where Lucy and Gus also got a room for the night. Technically they were still on their honeymoon, and now so was I.

  Honeymoon.

  Married.

  I was Mrs. Devlin Masters, the minister said so himself.

  Clearly I was dreaming. This had to be a dream. I had passed out somewhere between the limo ride and the magic show, inebriated from gallons of cheap champagne. My fevered brain, which had done nothing but think about weddings for a week solid, flipped some kind of switch and tossed me into some kind of psychedelic acid trip, minus the acid.

  Unless that was what had been foaming out of my glass at the magic show…

  But when we got back to our room, and Devlin lifted me up to carry me across the threshold, I knew that it was real. It was crazy, but it was real.

  Even crazier… I wanted it to be real. I didn’t care what kinds of complications followed, I wanted to be Mrs. Devlin Masters.

  I was Mrs. Devlin Masters.

  I had never wanted to belong to anyone before. I had always wanted to be me. But it was like Lucy said in her vows to Gus; I was more me with Devlin than I had ever been on my own. I was better. I was stronger. And I didn’t want to lose that Coralie again. Not now. Not ever.

  He carried me to our bed and laid me gently upon it before straightening to shrug out of his jacket. His eyes inhaled me. “My beautiful bride,” he said in that deep voice that spread like velvet across my skin. He tugged out of his shirt and tossed it aside, standing in front of me only in his dress slacks. He looked so hot I nearly evaporated.

  He crawled on top of me and kissed me hard. When my hands slid up his arms and around to his back, I could feel the weight of my new wedding rings around my finger.

  Wedding rings…

  Wife…

  Marriage…

  “Devlin,” I managed as I broke away. We had to talk about things, didn’t we? We were about to cross the point of no return. It had all been a perfect night–the perfect end to a perfect week, where we had chased and fulfilled every single fantasy that I had buried in my psyche. But our perfectly executed fantasy was about to collide head on with reality. The minute we made love, our union was consummated, no backsies. We were legally and officially “one,” which came with a crap load of complications outside of the perfect world we had created inside one another’s arms.

  “I love you, Coralie,” he whispered against my lips, his body moving against mine, the promise of his hardened silhouette rendering me speechless. “Tell me you love me.”

  My blood raced like lava through my veins. Of course I loved him. It made no sense whatsoever, but I loved him. For someone who had followed every rule since I since I was fifteen years old, I knew that it was completely nuts to throw caution to the wind like this, to plow forward on a path where I could only see a step or two ahead, and barely even that.

  But Devlin was on that path, which made it one I wanted to walk, even if it was right off of a cliff… even if it was to a painful death mangled along a rocky shore. You know, kind of like what was going to happen when I headed home and had to explain any of this to Father.

  “Tell me,” he commanded again as his hand slipped under the hem of my dress and inched up my legs.

  “I love you,” I whispered and he shuddered against me. I felt him fumble to release himself, desperate for me now. I didn’t have a chance to think as he made his way down my body, disappearing in between my legs. I clawed at the covers with my nails as he worked his magic with his tongue. It reminded me of our first night together two weeks before.

  Two weeks!

  “Devlin,” I started again, though breathless and incoherent from everything he was doing with that nimble tongue. He responded by latching his mouth over my clit and sucking hard until I shot off into the night sky like a firework. Before I could come back down again, he crawled back up my body, positioning himself on top of me. My dazed eyes locked with his as he slid himself inside of me in one sure stroke.

  We were now one.

  In case I had any doubts about that, he reached down for another kiss. “You’re mine, Coralie Masters. Forever.”

  I shuddered hard against him, unable to speak or even think. It was all I wanted. It was primal how badly I wanted him to possess me, body and soul. And he knew what I needed most, as always. He lifted my legs, hooking my knees onto each of his shoulders, bending me in half as he plowed into me, incoherent with his own need. He cried out as he came, which was more intense than any other time before. It sent me right over the edge with yet another mind-blowing orgasm.

  Finally he collapsed in my arms, panting hard. I felt him pulsate inside of me. My husband had just come inside of me.

  Jesus Christ. What came next? Babies?

  What the fuck was happening?

  “Devlin,” I started again, my voice hoarse from screaming in the throes of passion.

  He cupped my head with his hands. “You made me the happiest man on the planet tonight,” he said. “Welcome home, Coralie Masters.”

  I lost myself in those deep green eyes that I loved so much. That was my home, I decided, the only one that mattered. That was where I had been most welcome, most desired, most defended. Most loved.

  I pulled him down for another kiss.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  The next morning, I stirred before Devlin, who slept soundly on his side, his left arm flung around my naked middle. A sliver of sunshine peaking in from the blackout curtains glanced off of his new ring, catching my eye.

  His wedding ring. He was mine. I was his. We were married.

  I stared into his sleeping face with a mixture of pure joy and absolute bewilderment. This handsome man, the sexiest I had ever known, was now my husband. I loved him with my whole heart, though I didn’t really know him at all. Granted, we’d done that exercise. Granted, I’d met his family. Granted, he’d been as honest with me as I could ever hope he would be, including telling me about that tryst with another client.

  But this was it. We were married. There was no going back. And I didn’t really want to, though I grew increasingly nervous about what lay ahead. It had been a beautiful week in Las Vegas, but the real world beckoned. Things were going to look a lot different in Los Angeles.

  Of course I would have to deal with Father. I was actually more afraid of Gretchen, who tended to do the b
ulk of her work in the kitchen, around all of the knives. And there was Oliver, who probably still thought we were dating. He was the one being prepped to marry me one day, and no doubt had resigned himself to that. I mean, it wasn’t like he ever tried to date anyone else. What would he do when he realized that he no longer had a shot? Would he be relieved? Or would he, too, look at what I had done as some kind of betrayal?

  As someone who had done very little to rock the boat for twenty-three years, the idea of facing these people, knowing they would be disappointed, even angry, made my heart race. Dread started to gnaw at the pit of my stomach. I thought about going back home to face everyone, and suddenly I couldn’t breathe. I gasped a little, gulping air as I eased out from under Devlin’s arm. He stirred and faced the other wall, so I scooted quickly to the bathroom, where I could splash some water on my face before I experienced my first full-blown panic attack. I couldn’t catch my breath. My heart raced. My chest hurt and my stomach twisted itself into a knot. I paced for minutes before I finally sat on the edge of the tub, washing my face with a cold washcloth, trying to calm myself with deep, steady breaths.

  “You’re okay,” I repeated to myself more than once. “It’s going to be okay.”

  Then I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, where the rings on my finger sparkled from across the room.

  What the fuck had I done?

  “You okay?”

  I glanced up at Devlin, who stood framed in the doorway. He was naked and beautiful, and ordinarily I would have pounced all over him. But my rising sense of panic had delivered a KO punch to my libido. “I don’t think so.”

  His brow furrowed with concern before he joined me on the edge of the tub. “What’s wrong?”

  I burst out crying again. Jesus Christ, what was wrong with me? “My dad is going to kill me.”

  He chuckled as he took me into his arms. “No, he won’t.”

  “You don’t understand. This isn’t like Lucy’s wedding. We can’t hide this.”

  “Of course not,” he said. “Why would we want to?”

  “Because my dad will kill me,” I repeated. I hopped up and began to pace again, rather comically in my naked state, across the bathroom tile. “What if he kicks me out of the house? What if he fires me? What if he disowns me, Devlin? Who am I if I’m not a Cabot?” I asked, though I hadn’t been a Cabot since Devlin Masters slid a wedding ring on my finger the night before.

  I was Coralie Masters now, whoever the hell that was.

  Oh God…

  Devlin stood to intercept me as I passed. “He’s not going to do any of those things, Coralie. He’s your father. He loves you. He’ll probably be mad,” he agreed, which made me glare at him, “but he loves you. You’re his only child. He’ll find a way to work it out.”

  “This is not me,” I went on. “I don’t do these things. I’m not like Lucy. I return phone calls. I send thank you notes. I make sure that the oil is changed in my car every three thousand miles. I follow the rules.” Up until I started fucking an escort anyway, but I didn’t say that.

  “There’s only one rule that matters, baby. Do what makes you happy. Do I make you happy?”

  Again I glared at him. “You know the answer to that.”

  He shrugged, as if the rest of my world wasn’t about to implode thanks to my impulsive behavior. “Then who gives a shit what they think?”

  “Do you have any idea what kind of scandal this is going to cause? And God forbid they ever find out about you.”

  His eyes hardened as he stared down at me. His voice dripped with venom. “Are you saying you’re having second thoughts about marrying your gigolo?”

  “No,” I shot back. “You know I don’t care about that.” Well, mostly.

  “Then what is it?”

  I sighed as I plopped back down on the edge of the tub. “It just happened so fast. It was like Lucy said. Next thing you know we’ll be buying a llama.”

  The last part came out in a tearful wail, which made him chuckle as he sat next to me. “Oh darlin,’” he murmured as he took me back into his arms. “I don’t care what we do or when. As long as I get to be with you that’s all that matters to me.”

  “Stop being so damned sweet,” I muttered as I sniffled. “You’re ruining a perfectly good panic attack.”

  He laughed as he reached behind me to turn on the hot water. “I tell you what. You have your little panic attack and then you let me know when it’s done so we can go get breakfast.” He leaned forward and added, “Wife,” before he kissed me on my nose.

  I watched him as he stood and walked from the bathroom, striking and beautiful in his raw naked form.

  And he was all mine. That was what the rings on my finger meant. I wanted Devlin and I got him. He was mine. Forever. Father would either get over it or wouldn’t, but I was never going to go back to the mousy, codependent little yes-girl I was two weeks before. I couldn’t, not now. I didn’t even want to. I liked who I was now, even if I did marry a virtual stranger during a lascivious tryst in Las Vegas.

  Honestly, I kind of liked myself more because I did do something so crazy. I took what I wanted, which is what Devlin Masters had taught me to do. Because of him, I had approached Darcy with a full business plan to do what I had wanted to do as a clothier for near a decade. I was making things happen, without permission, without apology. I was in charge of my own destiny, and I knew I’d never be happy with the future Father had planned for me. That was never going to happen, even if I hadn’t married Devlin Masters.

  At some point, I knew I was going to have to have this difficult discussion with my father. I was going to have to give Oliver his official walking papers. I was going to live my life on my own terms, and everyone who claimed to love me was just going to have to be okay with that.

  From now on, I was going to choose happiness simply because I could.

  So I turned off the water and followed him to the bed, where I pushed him down and straddled him. He smiled as he wound his fingers in my long hair. “Now, that’s more like it,” he said before he pulled me down for a kiss.

  We spent the majority of that Saturday in bed, existing mostly on the minibar and room service between every single orgasm we chalked up in the meantime. By the time night fell, annulment was no longer an option. I was so married that I almost walked bowlegged.

  No matter how crazy it was, or how much Father and Oliver and even Gretchen would freak out when they found out about it, I didn’t regret my decision to marry Devlin Masters. There was no rhyme or reason why I loved him. I just did. And I never wanted our time together to end. I needed him as much as I needed my next breath.

  We’d make it work. Together.

  The first order of business was finding him another job. As his wife, I now had a say in his chosen profession, which reared its ugly head every single time his cell phone rang. Since he was no longer on the week-long date with me, his agency rang him almost every hour on the hour to set up other appointments with his hungry, impatient clientele. Finally, around six o’clock, I turned off his phone. “No one gets to fuck you but me,” I informed him as we sat together on the private balcony, watching the fountains dance across the street.

  He chuckled. “I suppose that’s fair,” he said as he slid his hand up my bare leg. We both sat in robes, since we hadn’t bothered with clothes all day. There was no point. “Because if another man touches you, I’ll rip his goddamned hands off.”

  I kissed him sweetly. It was cute how jealous he got, especially when there was no need. No one had ever wanted me like Devlin, and I knew no one ever would.

  He gathered me close in his arms. “I suppose I can sell my car. A buddy of mine has been bugging me about it for years. Since he’s still in the business, it’ll do him more good than it’ll do me.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t want you to do that. You’re going to need a car.”

  “I’m not going to live off of you, Coralie,” he snapped.

  “I’m not aski
ng you to,” I assuaged. “In fact, I have an idea.”

  He sent me a suspicious side-eye glare. “What?”

  “We’re always looking for models for the store. And you’re the best looking man I’ve ever seen. Win/win.”

  “So you’re going to pay me to sit around and look pretty?”

  “Isn’t that what you do now?” I shot back.

  “Great,” he grumbled as he pushed me off of his lap. “I’m a trophy.”

  I followed him back into our suite. “You’re not a trophy. It just makes more sense. If you go into Father’s office and tell him you’re a consultant, he’ll sic the dogs on you and unearth every job you ever had to test your credentials. At least you’ve done print work,” I pointed out. “That’s the legit stuff you padded onto your resume over the years. So what’s the big deal?”

  He sighed as he stared at me from the middle of the room. He knew I was right. And it wasn’t anything he wasn’t already doing to shield his sister away from his work. Like Darcy, my Father could never know what he did for a living. He’d demand we separate for sure, and I wasn’t entirely sure I could make an argument against it.

  The Cabot name meant something. We weren’t just people. We were a brand. This was my birthright, and it was up to me to protect it.

  “Fine,” he finally said. “I’ll be your trophy.”

  I walked around the bed to take him into my arms. “You’re the top trophy, if that means anything.”

  He linked his arms around my waist. “I just want to make you proud of me, Coralie.”

  “I wouldn’t have married you if I wasn’t,” I assured him. “I love you, Devlin.”

  He squeezed me tight, lifting me up in those massive arms. “I never get tired of hearing that.”