by Keta Kendric
“It doesn’t matter how I feel,” she answered the question I had forgotten about asking. “This isn’t real. We’re using each other. It’s going to take a lot more than fancy words and an overpriced ceremony to convince me that I should glorify this as something more than what it is. We did this because it’s going to improve our business status, end of story.”
Her words were spoken in a smooth silky tone, but the impact stilled me. I stood blinking for a few seconds, confused, and even turned on. Other than my brother, I wasn’t used to people being this straight-forward with me. They usually told me what I wanted to hear, and it suited me fine.
Mecca had given me a peek at her fiery personality the first day we met. Based on her strong stance now, she didn’t care about my reputation, and the notion caused sparks of excitement to flare to life within me. I loved a challenge.
We had only shared a few encounters between the wedding planning and me showing her my house, soon to become ours. And we’d only talked on the phone three times, usually about the marriage ceremony. We hadn’t delved into anything business-related, agreeing that we needed to concentrate on getting married before we approached those types of discussions.
I’d always taken the time to consider what I was getting myself into before I took on the challenge of a new project. With Mecca, I knew right away that I would not be able to treat her like any of the other women that I had dated in the past because she was of a different caliber.
She made tough decisions, some of them deadly. She had to make executive business decisions, that impacted finances and jobs. I considered that I was with a woman that was on my level in many aspects, and I’d have to approach her with the same level of respect I was given, or we weren’t going to work.
As far as our personal lives, I believe I was in trouble, as I hadn’t considered that I would be this attracted and impressed with her. And I couldn’t forget that she was the living representation of danger and trouble.
Had I just married a woman capable of ripping my hell apart and taming the devil?
6
Mecca
My husband whispered something to the pianist that made a wide smile break out on the man’s face as he nodded. Arjen glanced up, staring straight ahead at the wall in front of him. His smile widened, and without him looking in my direction, I knew that he knew I was watching him.
When he turned his head in my direction and glanced at me, our gazes met and the heat blazing from him reached me from across the room. He turned in my direction and approached with a smooth, sure stride.
Impressively tall, he had an inner strength that gleamed his surface and added to his arsenal of characteristics that aided in pulling you in. He was at least two-forty, with a serious amount of man-packing power. Where some tall men sunk into their height, Arjen carried his with confidence. You were going to pay attention to all six-foot-five inches of him because he demanded it. And he had surely invented the term metrosexual as there wasn’t a thing out of place: not a button, a cuff-link, or a loose strain of hair.
He took care of his appearance, and I took my time admiring the presentation. I’d always been of the mindset that there wasn’t anything wrong with admiring something or someone, and today, my new husband hadn’t disappointed my wandering eyes.
However, there was an underlying darkness in his penetrating stare that gave me hints at who Arjen truly was. Desiree may have ended up with ‘the Kannibal,’ but I sensed I had ended up with the physical representation of danger. The sixth sense I cultivated and learned to rely on kicked in when I was approaching a danger I couldn’t see. It had flared up a couple of times already when I couldn’t see him but sensed him near.
He didn’t stop his stalking approach until he had parked his imposing body in my personal space, blocking the light. He leaned in, placing his lips to my right ear and purposely igniting a series of tingles that I fought to suppress.
“It’s time for our wedding dance,” he whispered, making sure his warm fresh breath licked my ear.
Was this all a game to him? I narrowed inquisitive eyes at him before I took the hand he offered and allowed him to escort me onto the dance floor. For the purpose of perception, I realized that we were putting on a performance, but it did nothing to skirt the notion that our wedding kiss had felt real. So real in fact, he’d managed to make me forget I was standing in front of a crowd, participating in an arranged marriage. I don’t believe it had been planned to get a rise from our audience, although it had.
The memory of that kiss had glued itself to the front of my mind. Remnants of the delicious tingle it left on my lips and the zest it sent rippling through me had me recalling every vivid detail.
What was he doing? “Kiss me and get it over with, you big nut,” I whispered. Instead of initiating the kiss, this man stood his big fine ass in front of me, taking his sweet time, admiring me, and making me squirm under the weight of his lengthy observation.
His strong hand slid with the softest caress against my neck as his probing gaze dropped to my lips. The smallest hint of his hot pink tongue slipped across his lips when he fixed his gaze on my own. When he leaned into me, the world began to slow. What was happening? Why was this simple kiss so dramatic? Why did I want it so badly all of a sudden?
The first brush of his lips against mine closed my eyes as the sweet warming zing of elation shot through me. He started to pull away but changed his mind and pressed his lips harder into mine with an assured firmness, possessing my mouth and controlling me at the same time. I inhaled, but it wasn’t air that flowed into me, it was a potent shot of him that breezed through my system.
This was an introduction of a different kind, one I had never before encountered. Our bodies were saying hello in their own special way even as our minds fought to translate the dialogue being exchanged. When my lips slid so sensually between the possessive flow of his, an urgent need for more contact sent my hand to his waist, and I fisted the material of his jacket.
He drew me closer into his body with his strong hand spanning my lower back, the other cradling the side of my neck. Flickers of fire fluttered through my veins at his touch. I attempted to ease back when I felt myself slipping too far into something dangerous, something we weren’t supposed to explore, but he refused to let me get away.
He recaptured my lips, trapping them between the grooves of his, making me feel how well we fit together. His hand slowly slid up my neck. His thumb settled below my ear as his fingertips feathered my hairline, the touch instantly sparking a series of tingles that aligned with the ones pouring in from the kiss.
I believe it was our blazing passion that tightened the rope that now tied us together. When I managed to back away from the kiss, from him, we stood staring at each other. Lost? Found? I didn’t know, but we were surprisingly connected.
The sight of his tongue sliding over his lips to take in every bit of our kiss hinted that he had enjoyed it as much as I did. Our eyes remained deadlocked, and I believed we were thinking the same thing.
“What the hell was that?”
The pianist keyed a lively tune that dragged my mind away from the memories of our intoxicating first kiss. The song being keyed and filling up the space was Ordinary People by John Legend, one of my favorites.
The song was the exact opposite of what me and Arjen were. The tune, however, did its job and elicited a smile as I stared at him, eyes squinted. How did he know I would love that song? I let my gaze roam until I found Desiree in the crowd. Had she told him?
The heat radiating from his hand when he sat it atop my shoulder and slid it down my arm had me fighting back a shiver. Not to mention, the strong hand he had cupping my waist was adding more depth to the building heat. Tingling, teasing currents buzzed through me while his touch ignited and set them on fire.
My behavior with Arjen couldn’t be blamed on the alcohol as I’d had only a few flutes of champagne. Why was I feeling this way? Where was this attraction coming from? He drew me in so
that his lips, soft and kissable, rested slightly above mine. I sensed his gaze on me despite my reluctance to lift my eyes to meet his.
“You look lovely. Elegant. Beautiful,” he whispered. His words were more than compliments because they sent an erotic buzz of energy rolling through me. I’d never experienced this sensation before, so why was it showing up now? I had never been seduced, but if I had to guess what it was like, I’d say this was it.
“Thank you,” I finally replied, the words rushing out on a thin whisper. Why did he keep staring at me with that hungry look in his eyes? Although I was more than four-inches taller by the heels I wore, the top of my head brushed his chin. Strangely, with Arjen, the height difference made me feel small but not overpowered, feminine but not less than.
The liquor filled laughter, multiple conversations, and even other swirling couples near us on the dance floor was being cast into the dusty corners of my mind. My attention was laser focused on the man standing in front of me, demanding every drop.
My head dropped against his shoulder, which didn’t help because other parts of us were connected now and setting off a different set of desires. He drew me in even tighter, the closeness pressing the pounding beat of his heart against my cheek as I allowed myself to get lost in the moment.
“Can we make each other a promise that wasn’t clearly stated in our wedding vows?”
His question drew me from the haze I couldn’t seem to keep myself from sinking into.
“We didn’t have any wedding vows,” I replied.
“Exactly.”
“So, we’re making promises to each other already? What type of promises are you suggesting, husband?”
He smelled so damn good it was difficult to concentrate. Inhaling him had rearranged my breathing pattern, and I could no longer keep up with the rapid flow of my breaths.
He wore Dark Rebel, hints of spiced wood and vanilla that enhanced the natural boldness of his scent, an earthy white musk that was tinged by his fire. Arjen was a devastating combination of warmth and hard muscles that aided in clouding my senses.
“The kind of promises that will keep us accountable and alive.”
His statement drew me back to our conversation.
“What am I promising?” I asked.
“Your honesty. That you’ll always be honest with me, and I’ll always be honest with you.”
“Sounds like a fair exchange,” I stated, my breaths getting lost against his lips that hovered desperately close to mine when I glanced up.
The music’s tempo changed and disrupted the flow of our mingling currents of attraction. The new tune caused him to release me from the tight hold he had trapped me in.
“Should we keep dancing, or would you like to enjoy some of the expensive food and wine you wanted?”
The wide smile on my face met his mischievous one.
“Let’s enjoy the food and wine. Plus, I need to get out of this dress and slip into something more comfortable.”
I’d picked out a pantsuit that bore a similarity to my dress to wear to our wedding reception. Thankfully, everything was in the same building as the staff worked frantically to open the back portion of the room that was cordoned off by a wall of flowers. The beautiful space was a continuation of the wedding theme, but with food, wine, and a deejay who was playing a mix of upbeat dance tunes.
Arjen didn’t give a response, but I noticed one part pride, and another part something I couldn’t decipher when his curious gaze ran over me.
Was Arjen seducing me, or was I paranoid about being married?
7
Mecca
If Arjen didn’t think I saw the way he kept ogling me, he could think again. He was attracted, probably would take me to bed right now, if I allowed it. Handsome and well-built or not, my plan was to keep our marriage what it was, a business arrangement.
If he wanted more, he would have to earn it, and there was no easy way to earn me. I believe he read it in the way I kept fake-smiling at him that I didn’t plan on being the easy-going obeying type of wife he assumed he would get when he was set to marry my cousin. Little did he know, my cousin was no pushover either. Desiree may have been all goo-goo-eyed over Khane, but if he stepped out of line, she would give him a piece of her mind.
She walked up on cue, holding onto Khane’s hand. The two had been joined at the hip since they married. She let his hand go long enough for us to immerse each other in warm hugs and congratulations.
“I told you, Mecca. He can’t keep his eyes off you.” Desiree whispered in my ear before she released me. One side of my lip lifted while flashing her my signature side-eye.
Khane and Arjen were lured away by two older men that appeared to be talking business while Desiree kept nipping at my ear about Arjen.
“Don’t fight it, Mecca. If he wants to have a relationship, give it a chance.”
My cousin believed in romance, and worse, love. She believed there was a special someone for everyone. She had found hers, so she wanted the same for me. As far as I knew, lightning didn’t strike twice in the same place, and fate was a stingy, stuck up bitch that wasn’t keen on issuing out double doses of happiness. However, I enjoyed seeing Desiree smile, so I nodded and rolled my eyes playfully.
“Okay, I won’t fight it.” It wasn’t a total lie since there was a nagging touch of curiosity lingering in the back of my mind of what if. Besides, I doubt anything we did would equate to a romantic relationship.
Patrena walked up and like Desiree, went right to my ear.
“I saw that kiss, and I see where his eyes keep going,” she said, holding our hug so she could tease me about Arjen. I gave her a playful elbow jab that she ignored to keep me linked to the teasing session she was giving me.
We three stood in our huddle talking about of all things, our next spa date. We had found a new spot since Desiree and Patrena had watched our old one get turned into Khane’s slaughterhouse.
In the middle of his conversation with someone, Arjen turned his attention in my direction. His lips were moving, talking to the man in front of him, but his eyes were glued on me. I turned away, no longer interested in playing his seduction game.
An hour later, I had successfully avoided his game until it was time for us to make our grand departure. A chill raced up my back when he placed his hand there to escort me to the gleaming black Maybach waiting to take us home. The car was decorated with white and blue flowers and a cheesy sign in the back window that announced us as, Just Married.
The crowd cheered, and I offered them gracious smiles and dainty waves, not letting on that my husband’s hand sliding ever so slowly down to my lower back was having a strange effect on me that I couldn’t shake.
We silently sipped champagne in the back of the car on the drive home, the bubbles tickling my tongue and popping on the way down. I needed the bubbly to mellow me out and dilute my busy mind. I didn’t want to think. I wanted to get tipsy and sleep, since I hadn’t had more than two or three hours between working and watching my back.
Married. Me. Despite it being an arrangement, I never expected it to happen. Pulling me away from my thoughts, I could sense a set of gray-blue eyes set on me.
“I’m aware that you are going to be busy running the Black Saints, but if, or when you would like a honeymoon vacation, just say the word.”
His words brought on an instant smile, one I chewed into my bottom lip, attempting to hide.
“That’s thoughtful of you, but my uncle…” My fist tightened at the thought of that man, and I bit into my lip in anger this time. “My uncle left one hell of a mess behind. I have a lot of work to do before I can even think about relaxing. Honestly, all I want tonight is at least six hours of uninterrupted sleep.”
“I understand and I will make sure you get those hours. I’m also aware that you are capable, but if you need help with anything, let me know. We are here.” He made a sweeping hand gesture.
“I appreciate that.” I wasn’t going to turn down a
helping hand because I may need it. However, I planned on exhausting all of my efforts before I went crawling to my husband for help. I didn’t like needing anyone as I believed it would make me appear weak at a time that I needed to be seen as a pillar of strength for the Black Saints.
The Vallins and the syndicate had valuable resources that I could use to improve the Saints, and I fully intended to use them, but I wasn’t big on having anyone else assist with running the organization I was tasked with.
Our conversation died after his offer. The view lured my gaze out the window to spiraling mansions, well-manicured landscaping, and tall, fluffy trees whose leaves danced to a breeze that appeared to only exist in this exclusive area of the city.
The fluffy clouds in the distance were dancing atop the mountains and cast the setting sun as a strobe light. Nature was putting on a unique performance for my weary eyes.
If there were a way to be stuck in a moment, I’d sit in this one for a day because tomorrow I would have to dig into the shit pile of work I needed to do to restore the Evans name.
“Thank you for taking on this deal my uncle made with you, although I’m sure it’s not what you had originally bargained for.”
Arjen flashed a broad smile, tilted his head and looked in my direction. “I have a feeling that you will make it work, far better than Raymond Evans ever would have.”
I eyed him, my curiosity about his intentions, stirring. This was the second time that he had displayed an unwavering confidence in me. He didn’t know me outside of what he probably discovered through background checks, so I didn’t understand his positive assurances. I sensed that he was being genuine, despite my usual reluctance to trust easily.
There was a plethora of complicated issues sitting on my shoulders; rats, supply shortages, being watched by the cartel that supplied us, men that had trouble accepting orders from a woman boss. However, I had been training for the position most of my life and couldn’t let the guys see me sweat.