An Improper Ever After

by Nadia Lee

  “I got the job!” She twirls around with her arms spread like Julie Andrews in The Sound of Music.

  Oh…that. I grin, relieved and happy. “Congratulations, beautiful.” I get up and walk around the desk to pull her into my arms, soaking in her warm vitality.

  “I thought it was a prank when I got the call.”

  I lean against the edge of my desk and spread my thighs, positioning her between them. My hands span her waist, and I pull her close. “You shouldn’t. You’re more awesome than you think.”

  “Thanks. I’m kinda feeling that way.”

  I can hear her breathless enthusiasm. Then I realize this is the first time she’s gotten a job that might lead to a career. Not that being Jana’s junior assistant is going to be glamorous—positions like that involve a lot of grunt work. But this is the kind of job where she can make valuable professional connections.

  “We should celebrate,” I say.

  “Totally.” She stops, then clears her throat. “Can we invite Traci, too? She called after Jana and I spoke. She heard that I got the position, and wanted to go out.”

  I blink, surprised that Traci has already managed to put herself on the guest list. “Sure. It’s your party.”

  Although I was initially thinking about a more private celebration, doing something with Traci might not be so bad. Although the dossier from Paddington is very thorough, I don’t know anything about what she’s like in person. It would probably upset my wife if she knew, but I don’t trust Traci that much. As I told Belle before, I don’t like “friends” who disappear when the shit hits the fan and pop up again when things are going well. Belle defended her friend, claiming Traci had no choice. Regardless, I don’t plan to warm up to her until given a reason to change my mind.

  “I’ll make the arrangements,” I say.

  “You mean you’re going to pass it off to your assistant.”

  “Hey. He loves planning stuff like this.”

  My wife laughs, then impulsively kisses me on the mouth. “That sounds great. Thank you. You’re the best.”

  “You’re the one who got the job.” I kiss her back, my lips clinging, lingering.

  Her response is immediate. She parts her mouth and licks my tongue with hers. She tastes sweeter and richer than freshly whipped cream, but there’s an undertone of fiery heat. She’s drawing me to her…coaxingly, inexorably. Maybe that unrelenting pull has been there from the very first moment we met. There’s no other explanation for what I feel for her, the way my emotions grow stronger with every breath I take.

  Desire thickens my blood, and my cock is hard. God. You would think we hadn’t screwed last night—or earlier today, before dawn.

  On the other hand, it’s been hours since I last made her come. Surely that’s too long a period of deprivation. I did promise to provide for her…

  Belle groans softly, angling her head for a deeper connection, and I grin like an idiot against her mouth. I feel like we’re finally on the right footing. Was the contract that much of an impediment? Or is this feeling of exhilaration from something else?

  My wife said, “I love you,” last night. I didn’t know how much I needed to hear it again until then. It’s a sign that I haven’t terminally screwed everything up.

  My phone rings. I curse inwardly and ignore it. Whoever’s on the line will get the hint.

  It keeps ringing, and after a while, it stops. I turn all my attention to running my lips over my wife’s delicate jaw line. It’s smoothly curved and infinitely precious, just like everything abou—

  The phone goes off again. Belle pulls back, breathing choppy and cheeks rosy. “I think you should answer that.”

  “They’ll survive. But I won’t…” I dip my head.

  Laughing unsteadily, she turns away when the damned phone keeps ringing. “Come on. People are depending on you.” She smiles. “Later.”

  “Promises, promises.”

  She licks her kiss-swollen lips.

  “Keep doing that and I’ll throw the damn phone off the balcony.”

  “And regret it the second it leaves your hand.” She walks out, laughing and swinging her hips with an extra bit of provocation.

  Annoyed, I hit the talk button. The world had better be burning down. “Elliot Reed,” I bark into the phone.

  “Got your email.”

  “You didn’t have to call,” I say bitingly as unfulfilled lust thrums through my tightly wound body.

  “I want to confirm you’re really okay with running this.”

  “Of course I am. Why else would I have sent all that junk to you?”

  “It’s just such a shitty thing to make public.”

  “So? You think she’s going to sue you for defamation?” I laugh. “She knows everything in there is true.”

  A short pause and a loud sigh. “You lead an interesting life, Elliot.”

  “Never a dull moment.” I bare my teeth in a smile. “And next time you want to chat, text me.” I hang up and roll my neck.

  I’m probably going to make enemies with what I’m about to do, but I don’t care all that much. The primary focus is keeping my wife safe and happy. And to do that, I would cross the gods themselves.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Annabelle

  The restaurant we end up going to is contemporary French. The exterior is rustic—pale brick and sun-bleached sandstone. The interior is just as charming, with a huge glass ceiling that opens up to the evening sky and walls that are designed to look like rows of European homes, with stone-and-mortar façades and inset windows. The air is replete with the scent of freshly baked bread and warm butter and herbs. On one side is a huge rack with hundreds of bottles of wine. The sound system gives us a woman singing a soft chanson.

  It’s packed inside, but somehow we have a table reserved. I’m sure Elliot’s assistant pulled some strings.

  Elliot looks awesome in a white button-down shirt with the collar undone. The sleeves are rolled up, and his dark slacks hang nicely over his trim pelvis and beautifully muscled legs. The overall effect is a casual, masculine elegance that takes my breath away.

  I’m in a pair of brand-new jeans and a green sleeveless scoop-neck top. A couple of boxes of jeans came for me earlier in the afternoon, and I couldn’t help myself. The arrival of the clothes surprised me, but it was also a sign that our contract is no more—our original terms forbade my wearing pants, ostensibly to give Elliot easier access. I felt almost giddy pulling them on.

  Our hands are linked, and I lean closer to him, inhaling the clean soap on his skin and sighing over the heat radiating from his body. Nonny grins at me knowingly, and after a moment I wink at her. It’s a little startling to realize she’s not a child anymore.

  Since Nonny came home late, she didn’t change into anything new. But she still manages to look fresh and adorable. She spots Elizabeth at a table big enough for six and dashes toward her.

  Elizabeth gets up and hugs Nonny. I didn’t think to invite Elliot’s sister, but she called him about something, and somehow ended up joining the party. Not that I mind. She is one of the nicest people ever, and I’m delighted that she wants to celebrate my new job. I really want to be good friends with her. I have so few.

  Unlike the last time I saw her, Elizabeth is glowing. A royal blue wrap dress is cinched around her already tiny waist, making her look even slimmer. Her hair’s curled and pulled into a simple ponytail on top of her head. She’s one of those rare women who can make any hairstyle look chic, any dress fashionable. It doesn’t hurt that her facial bones are more exquisitely sculpted than most models’.

  We exchange quick greetings and sit down. Elizabeth gestures at the glass of white in front of her. “Sorry, started early.”

  “Not a problem,” I say with a big grin.

  “I’m so thrilled for you. I didn’t know you were looking for a job.”

  “I was, sort of.” I don’t want to talk about the real motive that got me started looking in the first place. “Th
en it happened. I’m very lucky.”

  “Not lucky. Well deserved,” Elliot corrects me. “OWM doesn’t hire people who aren’t qualified.”

  “Hear, hear.” Nonny grins. “I’m so happy for you, Anna.”

  Elliot puts an arm around my shoulders for a quick squeeze. His hand stays where it is when the hostess shows up, Traci trailing behind her.

  Traci is sporting new side bangs that make her face appear less round. She’s in a scoop-neck knit top in magenta so dark it’s almost purple. It’s cut a bit too low, but not so low that she can’t wear it to work. Her tight skirt is the same—just long enough to be acceptable in the office. A silver orchid pendant rests in her cleavage, enhanced by a pushup bra.

  She’s obviously come straight from OWM and the object of her crush—Gavin Lloyd, the founder and head of the private wealth management firm.

  Nonny gets up and hugs Traci. “Traci! I haven’t seen you in ages.”

  Surprise flickers in Traci’s hazel eyes. “Hey, Nonny! Wow—all grown up. Great to see you too.”

  I smile. I never told Nonny about the details of my fallout with Traci. My sister thinks Traci and I couldn’t hang out anymore because of our parents. At first I kept it quiet because I didn’t want to disillusion Nonny, then later I didn’t see the point of rehashing the painful past. Looking at the big grin on Nonny’s face, I know I made the right decision. My sister was too young then. She didn’t need to know everything and have the past color her perception of the world around her.

  Next Traci comes over, and we embrace. “Welcome to the team, girl,” she says with a big laugh.

  “Thank you. I’m so excited.”

  “I knew you could do it. Jana loves straight shooters, and you don’t bull—uh, beat around the bush.” She looks curiously at Elliot and Elizabeth.

  I make a hasty introduction.

  Elizabeth smiles warmly, as gracious as ever. “It’s always a pleasure to meet Annabelle’s friends.”

  Traci flushes. “The pleasure’s mine.”

  Elliot musters a smile, but there is a slight edge to it that makes the hair on the back of my neck prickle. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Traci.”

  “Hopefully all good stuff?” she says with a wink and a trilling laugh.

  “Of course. My wife adores her friends.”

  I glance at him sharply. Was there a little bite to “friends”?

  Traci doesn’t seem to have noticed anything. Maybe I’m being overly sensitive. I know Elliot doesn’t think highly of Traci for dumping me two years ago. As far as he’s concerned, she’s a crappy friend, but he’s only thinking about what he would’ve done. It isn’t fair for a man who’s never had to struggle financially to make that kind of judgment.

  Traci says something, and Elliot laughs. His hand is back on my shoulder, and he strokes my skin with his long fingers as he talks. I shake my head inwardly. I’m overthinking this. Everyone’s having a great time, and Elliot isn’t judging Traci. As a matter of fact, he’s making an effort to get to know her, and I should be grateful. Unless Traci relocates, I’m sure we’ll be tight again. What happened two years ago was a dip in the road, not a cliff.

  We order. Since it’s to celebrate my job, Elizabeth suggests a champagne toast to start, with Nonny having ginger ale. The server nods approvingly, and I fidget. I know it’s a special occasion, and everyone’s here for me, but I’m not going to drink. Still, how to gracefully turn it down…

  Elliot squeezes my hand and whispers, “Don’t worry.”

  He crooks his finger at the server, who scurries over, and whispers something in his ear. The server frowns in concentration and nods before leaving.

  “Dom or Veuve Clicquot?” Elizabeth asks.

  Elliot grins. “It’s a surprise.”

  Gratitude unfurls inside me. I’ve never had anybody who shared my burden before, and it feels surprisingly liberating…and gratifying to know that I have someone who’s got my back. And not just any someone. Elliot. He’s the reason I feel the way I do. I grin at him, letting all my gratitude and love show on my face. “I think he asked for the most expensive vintage.”

  He brings my hand to his lips and kisses my knuckles. His eyes are on mine as he murmurs, “Nothing’s too good for my wife.”

  Elizabeth rolls her eyes. “Get a room.”

  Her gaze lowered, Traci sips her water, hiding a big portion of her face behind the glass dripping with condensation. “I think it’s romantic. They’re newlyweds. They should be all over each other.”

  “Yes, but I’d rather not think about it. Elliot is my brother.”

  Nonny nods in sympathy. “Totally gross.”

  “I’m going to need more than one champagne to get over the trauma.”

  Elliot snorts. “Don’t drink too much. You have to drive.”

  The waiter serves our bubblies. I pick mine up and inhale. It doesn’t have the bite of alcohol, just the spicy sweetness of ginger ale.

  Elliot raises his glass. “To new beginnings.”

  We toast and drink. I give him a smile. I didn’t realize my life would change like this when he thrust the contract at me. Now I’m grateful for having met him.

  The food comes soon after our toast. My dinner is seared beef medallions with a dark wine-based sauce and potatoes on the side. The meat is so tender and juicy, it practically seems to melt.

  Elizabeth licks her lips after a bite of fish. “This is really good.”

  “Is this authentic?” Nonny asks, her eyes wide with curiosity.

  “No. It’s adjusted to suit the American palate,” Elliot says. “And bigger portions. The French take two bites and they’re done.”

  Traci giggles.

  “So when does the job start?” Nonny asks me.

  “Tomorrow.”

  Elizabeth quirks an eyebrow. “That’s fast.”

  “It’s just training until Friday.” I wipe my hands on napkin. “I hope I can learn everything I need to in three days.”

  “You will,” Traci says. “Jana wouldn’t have hired you if she didn’t think you could. Besides, if you need help, you can always ask me.” She grins at me, and I flash her a grateful smile in return.

  “Fake it ’til you make it,” Elliot says. “Not that I think you’re going to need to fake anything for long.”

  “You’re going to finish college too, though, right?” Traci asks, leaning slightly forward.

  “I want to. I’m looking to see if I can have all the credits transferred.”

  “You should be able to,” Elliot says.

  “Where are you thinking?” Traci asks again.

  “Someplace local, but if that’s not possible”—I shrug—“out of state, but preferably someplace West Coast.” I make a face. “I can’t imagine living the rowdy dorm life again, but…”

  A strange look crosses Elliot’s face. “You aren’t doing a dorm.”

  “Even if I get an apartment, I’ll probably need a roommate—”

  “No, you won’t, because I’ll be going with you.”

  I blink at him.

  “What? You think I’m going to do a long-distance marriage when I don’t have to?”

  “But…out of state?”

  Elliot shrugs a shoulder in that careless way of his I can’t help but envy. It’s the gesture of a man used to getting what he wants. “What about it?”

  “But Nonny…”

  “I can transfer,” my sister puts in cheerily.

  “You’ve already changed schools three times in the last two years.”

  Traci takes a big sip of wine. “Eh, she’s resilient. She’ll be fine.”

  I frown a little. I know she means well and is trying to be supportive, but I hate the fact that I haven’t been able to give Nonny the stability I had growing up. I lived in the same town, experienced K-12 with all my childhood friends and never transferred. My sister doesn’t have any of her old friends to keep in touch with—especially not after our father ripped off everyone in town—and she�
�s just starting to make some friends in the new school. Uprooting her again seems…cruel.

  “Well, pointless to talk about it now,” Elizabeth declares. “We don’t even know where you’ll end up going.” And with that, she expertly steers the conversation to safer topics. I stare at her in awe. I guess that’s the difference between our upbringings. Nothing seems to faze her. Except that one occasion when we were together on the balcony at the Sterlings’ mansion.

  After a platter of excellent cheese, I excuse myself to go to the bathroom. Elizabeth stands too, wanting to come with me. I glance at Traci and Nonny, but my sister’s too busy munching on the last of the Brie, and Traci tilts her chin, indicating I can go without worrying about her.

  This time I make sure the bathroom is empty. The last time I was fortunate enough to be overheard by someone friendly, but I’m not making the same mistake again.

  “I’m glad you’re adjusting so well.” Elizabeth smooths her hair, then clears her throat. “I was worried when you called.”

  I dig into my purse for my lipstick. “You told him.”

  “I did.” Her reflection makes eye contact with mine. “Are you upset?”

  “I was, a little, at the time. But…he is your brother, so your loyalty to him would come first,” I answer.

  She straightens. “It’s not about who’s first in my loyalty. That was never a consideration.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I wouldn’t have said a word if the problem didn’t affect him. If you were just unhappy with him and needed someone to talk to, I’d be more than happy to listen and give you whatever advice I could. But you were facing an enemy who threatened the both of you. I thought he should be warned.”

  “She threatened me.”

  “Any threat against you is a threat against Elliot. Annabelle Underhill isn’t an idiot. She knows that and is expecting him to strike back.”

  Good god. So it was a deliberate provocation? “Is he going to?” My stomach knots. I wish I hadn’t eaten all that food.

  “Yes. I’m pretty sure he’s set everything in motion by now.”

  “I don’t want a fight.”

  Elizabeth gives me a curious smile. “You really have no idea, do you?”