by J. J. Bella
Paul swept his eyes toward his parents, who looked grey-faced, glum. “Papa—“ he began, wanting to tell some semblance of the truth.
But his father held up his hand, halting him. “Son, if this marriage turns out to indeed be fraud, it will be annulled. You will be written out of the will. You’ll be given a very small pittance of your inheritance, and the rest will go to Lea in a trust fund. Elena will operate that trust fund. And not you.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Paul boomed. “You know, for a fact, that Elena is nothing but a gold-digger. She’s been calling me for years trying to get more custody money…”
But he saw he was fighting a losing battle. Tears crept down his mother’s cheeks, as Jack gloated in the corner.
“We just hope this isn’t true,” his mother whispered, tossing her graying hair behind her shoulders. “Because we love you, son. But if you’ve teased us this way—if you’ve made a mockery of us—then I don’t see how this can go on.”
Paul turned toward the door, slipping his hands through his hair and then tugging at it, feeling frustration brim through him. After he stomped through the door and ducked into the elevator, that’s when he allowed his scream to bolt from between his lips, to echo against the metal walls, to make him feel, in that moment, that if he wasn’t careful, all would be lost.
Brittany would be gone. And so would his daughter.
Chapter Sixteen
When Paul collapsed in the chair across from Brittany, the sweat was bolting down his forehead. His cheeks were red-hot, showing his passion, his anger. After a long moment of silence, Brittany reached toward him, placing a soft hand atop his. Whispering, she asked: “Paul? Baby? Are you all right?”
Paul didn’t move his hand. Their skin had spent so much time next to one another, attached, over the previous weekend, that Brittany sensed they were growing together. They were united. After a long moment, she drew herself toward the liquor cabinet and poured them both a glass of whiskey, then dropped herself onto Paul’s lap. They clinked glasses, then sipped.
Paul’s head lolled downward, then. His eyes closed, allowing his dark eyelashes to flutter along his cheeks. “They know, Brittany. They know it was a sham. And if they can prove it—if they can prove that we don’t love one another, that we aren’t truly in this, then they’re going to take everything. My money. My position. And my daughter.” He shuddered.
Aghast, Brittany latched onto his chin, bringing his face toward hers. She kissed him, then, inhaling the heat of his mouth, the terror of his near-quivering lips. Then, when the kiss broke, she asked him, in a soft voice:
“Do you want to make this work? Do you want to fall in love with one another?”
Paul paused for a long time. His dark eyes seemed to pierce into hers, making her twist with fear. But when he answered, his words were firm: “I wouldn’t have picked you in the first place if I didn’t think this could become something real. Something whole. And over the past weekend, in the Hamptons, I sensed this could be our forever.”
Brittany’s heart swelled with his words. A single tear crested her cheek, making her blink rapidly.
This was it. This was her forever.
Finally, she found her answer: “So let’s tell them that, then. That we love each other. It’s the truth.”
The meeting, the grill session, was held the following afternoon in the boardroom, and featured many of the people who’d been at Brittany and Paul’s wedding: Elena, Jack, Paul’s parents, Lea, and the members of the board. Brittany and Paul sat close together, clinging to one another’s hands like a united force—and waiting for the axe to fall.
Jack handled the questions. His voice was lawyer-like, smarmy. It made Brittany’s stomach squirm.
“So, Brittany. When was it you met Paul? You seem to have given us all many different answers.”
Brittany pressed her lips together, glancing toward both of Paul’s parents. They gave her urgent glares.
“Well—“ she began.
“Because, it’s come to my attention, after interviewing someone named Ian of Blue Line, that you were employed at that coffee shop until very recently. Just a few weeks before. And, according to him, you weren’t, at that time, in a relationship with anyone,” Jack continued.
“You interviewed Ian?” Brittany asked, aghast.
“Paul, what do you think of that?” Jack asked him, drawing taller. “Did you indeed meet Miss Brittany Haverford at the coffee shop? And was it before or after you moved to Williamsburg?”
“You didn’t go to law school, Jack. I know for a fact you couldn’t get in,” Paul boomed.
“Irrelevant,” Jack returned.
“Then stop treating this like it’s some kind of daytime law show,” Paul scoffed.
“Paul,” Max, his father, returned. “Please. Just answer the questions. We’re trying to get to the bottom of this.”
“Fine,” Paul said, ripping his free hand through his dark hair. “We only just met each other. Are you happy?” He paused, allowing his words to take effect. “I walked into the coffee shop, saw this gorgeous woman, and then felt a connection I couldn’t describe. When it came out that we were both in predicaments—hers, monetarily, and mine more in a family and business setting, I offered to help her, if she’d marry me.”
The words came spilling from his mouth, making Brittany’s eyes appear like saucers. Around them, the boardroom grew quiet, tense. Jack’s self-serving eyes centered upon Brittany, leering at her. “Brittany, can you confirm this?”
“Sure,” Brittany whispered, trying to draw courage from within. “But there’s so much more to the story, now.”
“Irrelevant, I’d say,” Jack said, giving a bright smile to Elena. “Looks like we’re done—“
“What’s more to the story, dear?” Claudia asked, leaning closer. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that Paul and I are falling in love with each other,” Brittany said, her voice gaining confidence. “We’re growing into each other. And I’ve never loved a little girl more than I’ve loved Lea…”
Lea rushed forward, then, bursting from her mother’s arms. She wrapped her arms around Brittany, causing a smile to stretch across her face. Lea mumbled across Brittany’s shoulder. “I want to stay with Brittany,” she said. “She plays with me. She loves me. She’s a better mommy than my own mom.”
Claudia brought her hand to her mouth, clearly shocked. Elena sputtered forward, trying to draw her child back. “Lea, come along. That woman is a traitor.”
“But she can’t be,” Paul boomed. “You’re the one who hasn’t stopped asking me for child support payments since we started the divorce proceedings. You and Jack have been hounding Brittany and I for details about our marriage from the beginning. And it’s crystal clear that it’s just because you don’t want to miss out on all that money.” His eyes flashed.
Raising his hands into the air, Max interrupted, holding court. His voice was weak, but didn’t deviate. “Children. Jack. Paul. Elena. Stop this, right this instant. I can’t handle it another moment more. Your bickering, your edging toward the money, has grown out of control. I have half a mind to put that money far away from all of you and leave it for Lea, when she needs it. That being said—“
He paused, gazing down at Brittany, who still held onto Lea with tight arms. “Brittany, what you’re saying about my son warms my heart. Paul’s been alone and lonely for years, All my wife and I have wanted is for someone like you to come along, to see the good in him. And it seems, Brittany, that you do.” He turned toward Paul, then. “Paul. Do you love her, back? Is it a match? Can we trust you to honor her, to hold her close? To be the husband she needs?”
Paul nodded, gripping onto Brittany’s hand and then reaching forth, bringing his daughter onto his lap. “We’re a family, Papa,” he said. “And you always said that family comes before business. That it comes before everything else. If you need me to choose between the money and these people in my arms, right now, I choos
e them.”
“Ha,” Elena scoffed. “As if you’ll have full custody.”
“I’m seeking it as soon as possible,” Paul said to her, lashing out.
“I’ll expect those support payments, all throughout that battle,” Elena whispered. In the silence that fell afterward, she caught her hands across her mouth, realizing her mistake. She’d revealed herself as the shrew she truly was—hunting only for his money, and not motivated by her love for her child.
Claudia snapped and pointed toward the door, asking Elena to remove herself. “This isn’t the time nor the place for your selfishness,” she whispered, her words harsh. “You shouldn’t even be in here.”
Elena scuffled from the room, flipping her hair behind her. Brittany’s hand squeezed Paul’s, showing allegiance. Their honesty had defeated the beast.
“The decision to give you your position as CEO and the inheritance holds,” Max said then, clapping his hands together. “I’m glad that we can finally put this behind us.”
Paul lifted his daughter as he stood, then reached across the table to shake his father’s hand. As Jack drew closer to him, hoping for a handshake as well, Paul pointed toward the door. “I’ll need you to join Elena, on this one, Jack,” he boomed. “You’re fired, effective immediately. Get out of my sight.”
Epilogue
Three months later, Brittany and Paul lay in bed naked together, their bodies pressed tightly against one another. Brittany wrapped her legs around his six-pack abdomen, drawing his firm cock toward her and allowing him to push inside her, filling her. Her eyes closed immediately; her mouth parted. He reached forward and kissed her, inhaling the scent of her lust as he moved over her, making love to her from above. His strong arms wrapped tightly around her shoulders, making her feel safe, protected—far from the racing mania of the dining room and terrace, above.
Brittany pushed at Paul’s chest, bringing him onto his back so she could hump him from above: allowing her breasts to bounce, her thighs to crest around his firm hips. She took control, allowing her eyes to focus on his. As his cock pushed against her G-spot, she felt herself begin to orgasm, to fall into wave after wave of pleasure. He thrust his hands forward, squeezing her nipples and then drawing her toward him, kissing her. He came within her, then: gasping, stretching his legs long, forgetting his body, his mind, feeling only his love for this woman.
As they collapsed in one another’s arms, they could hear the people outside their room: the set-up, the plates clattering, the food cooking. Shifting onto her elbow, Brittany eyed him with humor. “You know, it’s bad luck for you to see the bride on her wedding day.”
Two months before, Paul had gotten down on one knee after a romantic dinner, asking Brittany if she wanted to make their “sham marriage” a reality. She’d agreed, saying she’d hardly been able to enjoy the last one. “We can invite your family, your friends,” Paul said. “It will be a proper celebration. One we deserve, after all we’ve been through.”
The day was gorgeous. It was August, and still bright, with that orange, late-summer sun blaring above them. The couple exchanged their vows, in full view of their favorite people, with Lea tossing flowers into the wind behind them. Their kiss—long, deep, was one Brittany felt in her gut. The way you “just know” about things, she knew this was a love that would last forever.
In the uproarious reception, a DJ flashed tunes from the corner, and their friends and family danced along—laughing, sipping champagne, and doing the twist. Lea danced with her grandfather, Max, swinging in circles beside him. Max’s health had improved over the summer, with the help of a New York doctor, and he’d spent many hours at their apartment—getting to know his granddaughter and his new daughter-in-law, and having long, deep conversations with his son.
As Brittany stood, wrapped in the firm embrace of her husband, Sarah approached her with her new date—a Tinder boy, she called him, and handed Brittany a glass of champagne. “Girl, you look happier than I’ve ever seen you,” she said, clinking her glass with hers. “Celebrate with me. Let’s get wasted, like we did before you became so classy.”
“Ha,” Brittany laughed. “I can only have a sip.”
Sarah’s eyes widened. She glanced at Paul, who held a large, bright-toothed smile, and then gave Brittany a light punch on her shoulder. “What do you mean? You’re not—“
“We’re pregnant,” Brittany affirmed. “We just told Lea this morning, and she freaked. She can’t stop talking about her new ‘little brother’ or ‘little sister.’”
“Wow. Well, Jesus.” Sarah knocked the rest of her champagne down her throat, looking aghast. “Congratulations, lovely. The entire world is opening itself to you. And I’m still at Blue Line.”
“You’ll find your prince. Even if he’s on Tinder,” Brittany laughed, giving her friend an earnest hug.
Stealing a few moments toward the side of the terrace, Brittany and Paul stood close together, with Brittany’s arms wrapped tight around her husband’s chest. The Manhattan skyline stretched out before them, glinting in the sun.
“Have you seen how gorgeous our love is?” Paul whispered to her, kissing the top of her head. “We brought so many people together today. Your mother, talking to mine about her chicken salad recipe. Lea dancing up at storm with your little cousins. It’s the happiest day of my life. And it’s only going to lead to more.”
Brittany kissed him, then. With tears shimmering in her eyes, she murmured: “I don’t know what I would do without you, Paul. I can’t wait to spend the rest of this bizarre life with you.”
From their Williamsburg loft, they watched the world go past: the summer sun turn to autumn, Lea return to school, Brittany making Paul latte after latte as she continued to attend design school. Their patterns were gorgeous. And their love continued to bloom, forever.
Preview: Having It All
They say you can’t have it all. Nobody told Liam that, and I never knew all he really wanted was me.
Mia:
He was the hottest guy in that little college town-muscles, motorcycle, and a killer smile.
But even I couldn’t tame him.
I had to make a choice: him, or school.
I chose my future.
Now I’m in the city, and here he is after all these years.
He’s rich and powerful; he could have any girl he wants.
But has he really changed?
I guess there’s only one way to find out.
Liam:
I was a different man back then, only living for the moment- come what may.
I couldn’t get enough of women, and they couldn’t get enough of me.
But the only one I wanted was her.
When she left me, I swore I’d get my act together. Who was I kidding, I wasn’t worthy of her.
So I moved to the city, and before I knew it I was a real player on the scene.
Money, fame, women- I’ve got it all.
Still, the only one I want is her.
But it’ll take everything I’ve got to convince her that I’m not the man I once was.
Chapters 1 - 3
CHAPTER 1
March, 2013
When I woke up I had no idea what time it was. Rolling over to my side of the bed, I reached down to the mess of clothes next to the frameless box spring and mattress that my boyfriend Liam called a bed and rifled through them with bleary eyes. Finally, through the dirty t-shirts and underwear, my hand settled onto the familiar shape of my phone. Pulling it out, I turned it on, my eyes going wide when I saw the time.
It was one in the afternoon.
"Fuck!" I shouted out, my voice echoing through the small space of Liam's bedroom.
"Wh…what?" came the voice from the other side of the bed.
I was still naked, the air of the bedroom cool against my bare breasts. I pulled the blankets up, covering my body as though I could hide from the world.
"It's one o'clock!" I said, wanting to cry.
"So what?" said
Liam, not turning over from where he was laying.
"'So what'?" I asked, crossing my arms, offended that he'd even ask such a question. "That means I've slept through all my classes. Again!"
Liam finally seemed to understand the gravity of the situation and rolled around. As my eyes locked onto his face, my heart jumped like it always did when I saw him.
Liam was a little on the lazy side, but man-oh-man was he gorgeous as hell. Lying on his side, he propped his face on his open hand as he looked at me with his striking, bright blue eyes, his sensual mouth curled into a slight smile.
"That a problem?" he asked, not jostled in the slightest by my little outburst.
"Are you serious?" I replied. "It's a major problem! It's Wednesday and I haven't been to a single class all week!"
"Might as well just take the rest of the week off, then," he said, his straw-blonde hair falling around his perfectly-sculpted cheekbones.
Sometimes I hated how gorgeous he was; it meant he could say the most unsympathetic crap and get away with it because I let myself get sucked into those baby blues.
"You don't get it," I said. "If my grades get too low then I'm gonna lose my scholarship. Then I'll get booted out of school, then I'll have to go back home to Nebraska, then I'll have to marry some dude who works at a gas station, then…then…"
"Chill, little lady," said Liam, his voice as steady and calm as ever. "Not gonna do you any good to get all worked up about it."
One important little detail I should mention about Liam: he's a townie. For those not in the know, a townie is someone who lives in a college town but isn't a student or an employee of the school. I met him at a "welcome to campus party" at the beginning of the semester, and our little…thing, whatever this is, that we've had going on since then has taken up about all the effort and attention that I should have been giving to my education.