Cocky Fiancé

by T. L Smith

  “Is she here?”

  “In my office.”

  “Okay,” I responded nervously. There were many ways this could go. It would either dig the hole deeper, and the media would have a field day with it, and Rita could leave with her tail between her legs. Or the Renshaw’s could win and effectively destroy everything Hawk had created.

  Hawk caressed my cheek, and I leaned into his touch. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Britta.”

  I kissed his palm.

  “I’m going to spend a lot of time making this up to you, Britta. I promise I will.”

  I smiled, certain my dirty thoughts were written all over my smitten face. “You can start tonight,” I suggested.

  “Britta Valentino, you are the right kind of naughty.”

  Hawk

  She was sitting with her back to me. Long red hair cascading down the chair’s backrest. I could already smell her perfume, and I hadn’t even walked through the glass door.

  “Rita,” I said by way of greeting as I stepped inside.

  She stood, all smiles like she hadn’t been responsible for slandering my name with assault allegations.

  “Good to see you, Hawk.” Rita’s smile turned into a knowing smirk. I’d love to have wiped that off her face. She seemed mighty confident for a woman who was about to be schooled. Walking around to my desk, I unbuttoned my suit jacket and waited for her to take a seat before I did the same.

  For a moment, we just stared at each other in a silent stand-off. She crossed one leg over the other, uncaring that her red dress was creeping up her thigh.

  “So...” she began, tapping manicured nails on the armrest. “What can I do for you, Mr. Carnage?”

  “You could retract your allegations of assault with both the police and the media.”

  Rita laughed. “Not going to happen.”

  “You work for the Renshaw’s, right?”

  She tut-tutted. “I don’t work for anyone. I have clients. I get paid to satisfy my client’s needs, and then I move on to the next.”

  “We’re in a bit of a predicament, Ms. Waltsworth. I need your story retracted.”

  “Like I said, not going to happen.”

  I leaned forward, my elbows on the desk. In response, Rita leaned back into her chair, maintaining the distance between us.

  “I’ve been doing some digging.” I watched carefully for any sign of fear. None yet. But I had plenty more up my sleeve. “You’ve been a very active girl it seems, Ms. Waltsworth... if that indeed is your real name?”

  Her lips twitched.

  “When I Googled your name, nothing appeared. No social media accounts, no news articles, no mentions whatsoever. So I performed a reverse image search on you from an untagged photo on Rebekah’s Facebook from her wedding.”

  Another lip twitch.

  “It turns out you’ve been Vanessa Tome, Veronica Steele, Sarah King... and that’s just to name a few.”

  She cleared her throat, her knee bouncing from nerves.

  “And I particularly like this picture of you...” I moved my monitor so she could see herself in action. “This is you and Harold Reynold holidaying in the Greek Isles right before he filed for bankruptcy. He only floated his company on the sharemarket the day before, and suddenly he’s rendered broke? Unlikely. And this one...” I scrolled down the page. “Isn’t this David Renshaw and yourself at a charity ball?”

  Rita was no longer smiling. In fact, her jaw was now twitching as she attempted to contain her anger. She had been caught out, and she knew it.

  “Your game is strong, Rita, but you failed to cover your tracks. Especially from those you tried to fuck over. Number-one rule... don’t ever pose with your clients in photos even when under an alias.”

  “I was simply doing as my client asked.”

  “So, if I turned down Renshaw’s offer, he would set you out to defame me as payback?”

  “That’s correct.”

  “That much I’d figured out when you started making sudden appearances around the time of his harassing phone calls and emails. I wasn’t lying when I said, I remember everyone I encounter, and you simply did not ring a bell. I haven’t, however, been able to make the connection between you and Rebekah.”

  Rita hesitated before answering. She had nothing to lose, her game was up. “I’m a friend of Roman’s. Was a friend. He insisted I be in the bridal party since her brother was a groomsman.”

  “So, he wanted his mistress to be at his wedding, helping his bride prepare for the big day and who he could later fuck throughout the reception?”

  “Yep.”

  “Fuck,” I muttered under my breath, and Rita just nodded. Seems we, at least, had one thing in common. We both thought Roman Hopheart was a complete and utter piece of fucking scum.

  “So, I’m sure you know how the rest of this goes,” I said, leaning back in my chair and hooking my ankles on the edge of my desk. “But in case I have to make myself perfectly clear, I’ll spell it out. Today... not tomorrow, today... you’ll issue a written statement to the press and visit the police headquarters informing them of your retraction. If you fail to do so by...” I glanced at my watch, “... three this afternoon, you expect me to file a suit against you and the Renshaws for public defamation and false allegations. Any loss of income, as a result of your actions, will fall squarely on your shoulders. Have I made myself clear?”

  “Perfectly.”

  “You have two hours.”

  Rising from her seat, Rita made a bee-line to the door.

  “Oh... and Rita?”

  She stopped in her tracks, hand already on the handle.

  “Give this to Renshaw, would you?” I met her at the door, handing over a sealed envelope. She tentatively accepted the message, her nervous eyes meeting mine.

  “What is it?”

  “Um... just a little something to clear the air.”

  She made to leave, but I stopped her once more.

  “And another thing, Rita?”

  “Yes?” she asked, slightly irritated.

  “I wouldn’t be in the same room when he opens it.”

  Chapter 24

  Hawk

  “We’re all ears.” Ricky sat on the sofa, arms folded across his chest, brows raised in question. If body language was anything to go by, it was going to be one tough audience.

  Britta laced her fingers with mine in a sign of solidarity, six pairs of eyes following the movement. We stood in front of her family, each one wanting answers, more than half confused by what was happening before them.

  We, of course, we’re adults, and we shouldn’t owe an explanation to anyone. Italian families, however, were a completely different ball game.

  An awkward silence settled between us all before Britta did the unthinkable.

  “Hawk and I have been seeing each other,” she blurted out in a ‘give-no-fucks’ tone. “And if anyone has issues with it then that’s your problem and it means shit to me.”

  “Britta!” her mom scolded.

  “What are you doing?” I asked, my mouth like a ventriloquist as I looked nervously at their gobsmacked faces. “That wasn’t the plan.”

  They weren’t impressed. Our goal was to ease them into the idea, not run over them with a freight train and then hit reverse. Britta, however, had gone rogue and it was now my turn to rectify the situation.

  “What she means is, we—”

  “What I mean is...” she interrupted. “For weeks we kept our relationship under wraps because we were both fearful of what all of you would say. Yes, Hawk is intense. Yes, he’s bossy. Yes, he’s brooding. And yes, he has a reputation as a ladies’ man, but after the last few days we’ve had, I’ve come to realize his intensity is what gets shit done. He’s bossy because a business the size of his doesn’t run itself and one false move will see a competitor come swooping in. And he broods because he’s constantly thinking of ways to improve and how to beat the assholes coming at him.”

  “Britta!” her mom scolded
again.

  It was useless... no one could stop Britta now.

  “And...” she continued, looking up at me and winking before she turned back to her stunned family, “... I don’t care about his past. I’m the only woman in his life now, and that’s how it’s gonna stay. So if you don’t like it, then you can go and get—”

  “Britta!” her mom stood and pointed a finger. “If you dare say that word, I’ll—”

  “Stuffed, Mom,” Brit interjected. “You can go and get stuffed.” She turned to me, an indignant frown on her face. “See how little faith they have in me?”

  I cleared my throat. “You’re getting a little... passionate.”

  “I thought it was great when I found out!” Slate offered, and the rest of the family turned on him.

  “You knew?” Britta’s dad asked.

  “Bullshit. How the hell did you know?” Harry questioned doubtfully.

  Slate pointed to his sister. “Have you ever seen Britta look so smitten? She’s had the same twinkle in her eye for weeks. You would have noticed too if you paid attention.”

  The family bickered, more with Slate for keeping his secrets to himself.

  “And what do you have to add?” Brock asked, looking to me for a more diplomatic answer. Everyone quietened, gazes narrowed in on me.

  “Well... Britta and I didn’t plan this. I guess you could say the attraction has always been there. She’s a very beautiful and smart girl.” Britta squeezed my hand, and I winked down at her. “And when she told me I was to be her fake fiancé, well, it was the start of something we couldn’t walk away from. And most importantly, I couldn’t walk away from it. We fell for each other instantly, and I got to see the passionate, protective side of Britta recently when things started to go... downhill. She has my back, and I’ll work hard the rest of my life proving that I have hers.” I turned to Mr. Valentino who’d been surreptitiously swiping at stray tears. “Mr. Valentino, I’d like to ask if it was okay—”

  “Yes!” he yelled, throwing his hands in the air with excitement. “Do it!”

  Everyone laughed easing the tension between us. Any judgment was gone.

  I turned to Britta whose eyes were wide in anticipation. Taking both her hands, I got down one knee in front of her family. She murmured something incomprehensible, shock settling in.

  “Britta Valentino, I was your fake fiancé once. Now I want to know if you’d like to make it official, and become my wife?” Retrieving my grandmother’s ring she’d fallen so deeply in love with, I held it on the tip of her finger.

  Britta placed her free hand over her heart and steadied her breath. “I thought we were just confessing today... but yes! Yes, Hawk. Of course, I’ll become your wife.” She laughed out the last few words, wiping the tears cascading down her cheeks. Cupping my face, she lowered her mouth to mine and kissed me for confirmation. Her family clapped and offered their heartfelt congratulations, but all I wanted was to keep tasting Britta’s lips.

  “All right, all right,” Ricky’s voice sounded over the chatter. “Break it up, you two. You may have won us over but don’t push it.”

  I stood, accepting his outstretched hand. “Congrats, bro,” he offered, a smile lighting up his face. “Look after my sister or I’ll cut your balls off and feed them to the—”

  “Fishes. Yeah, yeah, I know how you Italians roll.”

  We worked our way through the family, hugging and shaking hands. Everyone seemed at peace with the idea, and when they all started to set the table for the Sunday feast, I stole Britta out onto the porch.

  I stood behind, wrapping my arms tightly around her, my chin resting on her head.

  “I’ve got something for you,” I said.

  “Oh? You already gave me your precious grandmother’s ring.”

  “Mmm... this is something you can wear tonight.”

  She turned around, wrapping her arms around my neck. She was beaming from ear to ear, and it was fucking beautiful.

  “Ohhh... new collection?”

  “Maybe. But I need my number one model to try it on first.” Britta held one hand out between us while I reached into my pocket. Restraining my smile, I placed the tiny piece of fabric in the palm of her hand.

  “A G-string?”

  “Not just any G-string. It signifies the time we were caught... with our pants down.”

  She giggled and unfolded the panties to see the image on the front. Her giggles turned to cackles as she stared at the unicorn.

  “My poor unicorn was violated,” she snorted, remembering the moment she shoved me in the closet in a desperate attempt to hide any trace of me.

  I scoffed in mock indignation. “The unicorn isn’t the one who suffered, I have a feeling he might have enjoyed it.”

  She peered over my shoulder and into the house where her family was all chatting, a coy smile present on her pretty face. “I might go put these on now so over dinner you can think about all the ways you can violate this unicorn.”

  I inhaled sharply at the thought, knowing I’d be seeing her naked wearing only the G-string later on.

  “Britta Valentino, you’re the right kind of naughty, and I love it.”

  Her lips touched mine. And four words left her lips.

  “Unicorns.

  Whiskey.

  And...

  Hawk Carnage.”

  The End

  Keep on reading for the first chapter of Lotus by T.L Smith and Perfect Lies by Melissa Jane.

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  AS SOON AS I SAW IT, the game was over. I’d been played from the start. The odds had been against me the entire time, my gut instinct screaming ‘I told you so.’ Why did I never listen?

  The tattoo of the Virgin Mary.

  It represented everything I was fighting against. It told the story of how my partner was murdered. And now here it was, on the man who I thought was on my side. The man I thought would have my back. Yet, he was the very man who had led me to the biggest ambush of them all, his gun and that of four others pointed straight at me.

  I had been his bait.

  I had let him lure me here.

  And, as I was about to die, I learned the hardest lesson of all.

  Never trust a saint.

  “YOU GONNA EAT THAT?” my partner, Agent Tomas Garcia asked, eyeing up the rest of my pumpkin pie.

  “Nope. Yours,” I said, pushing my plate across the grimy table and between his greedy little hands. Nowhere near our regular haunt, we were trying out a new diner after a lengthy court session and I just wasn’t feeling its unhygienic vibe.

  “What’s wrong?” He stabbed a piece of pie with his fork while glancing up, a wicked gleam in his milk chocolate eyes. “Trying to fit your ass into that dress tonight?”

  “I’ll have you know it fits like a glove.”

  “Does that mean too tight?”

  “Fuck you!”

  “Okay.”

  I snorted a laugh because while he probably meant it, we both knew we just weren’t compatible. He preferred the skinny girls who required far more maintenance than needed and well... I had curve that could possibly be due to excess pumpkin pie and I got by without regular visits to the salon. And Tomas? He just wasn’t my type. Despite having the most beautiful complexion, an African American/Hispanic mix, he was just too sweet for my usual type. Even with his incessant teasing, we were close friends in and out of our field. We both worked for the FBI as fraud and money laundering specialists and for a year, we’d been partners.

  “You still my date for tonight then?” he asked shoveling another forkful of dessert into his mouth.

  “Do you even need to ask?”

>   “Just checking. Delacroix reckons he has a new assignment for us.”

  “Oh yeah?” This piqued my interest. We had just settled a heavy case and I was always excited to start another one. Garcia always put my enthusiasm down to being a rookie and that give or take a few years I will be desperate for an out.

  “Apparently, we have a meeting tomorrow with LA agents,” he continued.

  “Does that mean we get to leave New York for a while?” I enjoyed the heat but the city was always prone to a sticky humidity that became unbearable.

  “Maybe.” I could tell even he was excited by the prospect.

  “So, you gonna tell me where you went for your week long vacation?”

  Holding his fork mid-air, he looked like I was asking a stupid question.

  “I told you.”

  “No, you didn’t.”

  “Woman, do you not listen to a word I say? I told you I was in Arizona.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yeah, that’s so.” His voice became high-pitched. A tell-tale sign he was lying.

  “Okay,” I said unconvinced.

  “What? You wanna ghost me now?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Like to see you try being incognito with that ass of yours.”

  “I’ll break your face.”

  Tomas flashed me a wicked grin which in turn brought out my own. Although it didn’t look it at some points, we worked well together. For some reason, he was keeping his holiday venture a secret from me, and for now, I would respect him holding onto it. But I was also well aware of the fact that he only ever lied to protect me.

  “SWEET MOTHER OF JESUS!” Tomas’s eyes widened in appreciation. “You do put yourself together well,” he exclaimed, kissing me on the cheek.

  “As do you. Nice suit.” I admired the tailored Armani. Although he earned more than me, I often wondered just how big the pay gap was considering his beautiful apartment, clothes, and car. He was certainly a man who enjoyed the finer things in life.