The Arrangement (Crimson Romance)

by Bethany-Kris

  “But … still,” she sputtered, trying horribly to cover the dress that lay on the bed.

  Anton cocked a brow and crossed his arms. Something delicious and heated washed through her body at the sight of him half dressed, his shirt still unbuttoned and hanging loosely open while he stood in nothing more than white boxer-briefs. It did the most terribly naughty things to her insides, turning them all out and around, making her sex turn wetter with every rise of his chest.

  She couldn’t even think straight.

  And it always slammed down on her like that every damned time.

  Stupid fucking pregnancy hormones.

  “What’s wrong, Vine?”

  “Can’t think,” she managed to whisper, a blush crawling over her cheeks and neck.

  Anton smirked as he glanced up at the ceiling. She wanted to hit him for being so smug about her sudden lustful tendencies. Okay, so maybe it wasn’t so sudden, given how often they fucked before she got pregnant, but now it was a whole different ballgame.

  Now, every time he touched her, even in the most innocent of ways, her body lit up like fireworks. Electricity burned through her blood just as much as her mind. Sex wasn’t just physical, no, it was downright fucking expressive. Suddenly there were nerves in places she didn’t know existed, and he seemed to find every one without having a lick of trouble.

  And oh God, licking …

  She squeaked a noise under her breath.

  The pretty white lace panties, trimmed with silk bows, she wore under her sweat pants were likely ruined.

  “Vine, that’s not what I meant.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah. I mean, we could do that, but we might be a little late. So, ceremony starts in forty-five minutes. I need to be down there in thirty. Again, what’s wrong?”

  Viviana stuck the lollipop back in her mouth, hoping the taste would distract her mind enough to speak. Instead, her words just came out mumbled around the disgusting candy.

  “I’m going to look horrible.”

  “Because of your arm?”

  She shrugged an explanation. What else?

  “Okay, does that sound as vain to you as it did to me?” she asked quietly.

  Anton shook his head and offered a smile. “No. I suspected you’d probably have a moment, but I thought you’d be okay after you’d seen it on.”

  So maybe they’d had a similar discussion once or twice. The day after she was brought home from the hospital, for example. A crazy amount of people had gathered at the Oceana house to welcome her back with a big dinner, and Viviana had been so overwhelmed that she hid in the master bedroom’s bath. She’d still been covered in bandages, face marked up something awful, and her stress levels were out of control. It wasn’t like she was trying to be rude, but Viviana didn’t know how else to handle the sudden influx of people staring at her.

  It had been much too much.

  Anton, confused and worried, found her in her hiding spot. That was also the first time he all but forced her to look in a mirror after the accident. She’d been avoiding it like the plague. It hadn’t been easy, but it served to prove a point she hadn’t wanted to face.

  Yes, she’d been hurt, her pretty skin was a little marked up, but hell, she was alive.

  And his.

  Subsequently, Anton went about showing her just how much as his hands lifted the knee-length black dress she wore, spread her legs wider, and fit himself tight behind to take her soft, sweet, and slow. Despite the still simmering pain from her injuries, she didn’t feel a thing but him.

  So fucking deep and good, his hands barricading hers on the bathroom counter as his blue eyes pierced into hers through the mirror’s reflection. Viviana swore she could feel every inch of her sex holding his cock tighter, pulling him in farther. She couldn’t even make sounds, just quiet breathy pants that fell from her parted lips against the side of his cheek.

  Again, it had taken much too much, but in a whole new way.

  Awestruck and spun.

  Like it always had, sex seemed to fall somewhere in the lines of their communication.

  They didn’t connect fully, otherwise. Intimacy was their link beyond words.

  “Put it on,” Anton murmured, drawing her out of her thoughts.

  “But—”

  “Don’t. Put the dress on, Viviana. You can’t go down there naked. I wouldn’t get away with killing an entire room of men.”

  Instinctively, she flinched at the comment. Viviana still couldn’t turn on a news channel for fear of seeing something about Sonny Carducci flashing over the screen. Anton might not have admitted it, but who else would have done it? Who else had the nerve? The question burned her tongue every time he got a little more quiet than normal. Viviana had to fill the silence just to keep from asking.

  “Shit, baby … I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah, putting it on,” she said, not wanting to dredge that up again.

  Anton made his way to the bed, sitting on the edge as she fingered the ivory lace. Before she could pick the garment up, however, she found her wrist locked in the heat of his palm. With a gentle tug, her backside was firmly planted on his lap, legs dangling over the side of his thigh.

  “Ouch, Anton.”

  “You sure you want to marry me?”

  “A little late to say no,” she quipped, pointing to her midsection.

  As was his new favorite thing to do, his hand found her middle, lying flat with his fingers spread wide. The action always gave her butterflies, and this time was no exception. She liked it the very best when she woke to find his mouth kissing over her smooth flesh, sentimental tenderness reflecting in eyes that were so good at hiding what he usually felt.

  Anton couldn’t hide his enjoyment over her pregnancy at all.

  “I suppose …”

  The twitching of his shaft hardening against her ass couldn’t be ignored. Viviana squirmed under his hold, desire washing through her veins.

  “We’re going to be late.”

  Anton shrugged. “Suddenly don’t care. I have no idea why.”

  “The dress …”

  “Let me take these pants of yours off,” he said, his tone turning husky as his fingers slipped under the cotton. When his hands came in contact with the lingerie she wore underneath, he hummed a lovely sound that had her core pulsing. “I don’t know what these are, but they feel so fucking nice.”

  “Twice this morning,” she reminded him, getting heated just at the memory. “Are you even going to have the energy left for tonight?”

  “Are you questioning my more than proven stamina?”

  The lift of his brow had her smirking before his fingers found a particularly sensitive spot on her thigh and began tickling. Viviana squealed, failing miserably to get out of his prison-like hold. Once she’d begged and pleaded enough, his evil hand left the confines of her pants to skim back up to her flat stomach.

  Clearing her throat, she asked, “Did Sergei show up?”

  Anton shook his head. “Not yet. I’m thinking he won’t, which I prefer.”

  The wedding invitation had been offered to the Jersey Pakhan as a truce of sorts. Viviana knew Anton hadn’t wanted to offer it at all, but it didn’t look good on him to keep bad blood going. Repeated attempts for a sit-down had also been offered, which weren’t refused, but they also weren’t accepted.

  Anton wanted an apology and so did Sergei. Viviana was afraid it might lead to something bad later if peace wasn’t made soon.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Anton added quietly. “What day is this, Vine?”

  She furrowed her brow, confused. “December twentieth?”

  “Yeah,” he agreed, laughing. “But, it’s our day. I can see your worries in your eyes, so stop it.”

  Conceding with a sigh, she balefully stared at the dress again. “It should look perfect.”

  “It will. You’re goddamn beautiful, huh? Like nobody else. There isn’t a soul who gives any care about the marks on your skin, and who gives a s
hit if they do. You’re mine, anyway, baby. So while everybody’s looking at you, you’re looking at me. And I’m looking back. That’s what they see the most.”

  His hand on her back pushed her upward. On her feet, sweatpants were tugged down until they dropped to the floor. The silky camisole took the same path. With a smug grin, he helped her put the garter resting on top of the dress all the way up her thigh. It wasn’t long before the ivory lace was in his grasp, too, falling down like a heavy sheet over her frame, hugging every inch.

  The capped sleeves covered her shoulders, but her collarbones and neck were on display. Inlaid pearls had the lace bunched up just under her breasts. Lace spilled like rushing waves. His skillful fingers worked the few pearl buttons where they clasped together at the small of her back, and Viviana shivered when his hand skimmed all the way up her naked spine with a burning intent.

  “Almost done,” he said, all quiet and dark in her ear.

  All of her hair had been pinned up into a simple, easy to manage up-do. The partial veil that hung off the mirror was plucked up in his hand and placed. Pins were carefully hidden so they wouldn’t be seen. The ivory trim of the headpiece rested just above her nose, keeping her eyes shadowed by the partial veil.

  Her painted red lips curved with a smile as his fingers skimmed along the line of her jaw. Makeup had been so meticulously applied, giving her eyes a darker appearance and her cheeks a rosy glow.

  “Crazy beautiful. Where are the shoes?”

  “Beside the bed,” Viviana replied, not even wanting to say no, now.

  A second later he was back, shoes placed at her feet. “I’ll be right back. I have to get something before I forget.”

  Viviana nodded dumbly, going about resting her backside on the bed as she tugged on heels that would likely be the death of her before the night was out. By the time she managed to pull the deathtraps on, Anton was back with a silver case in hand. Immediately, she recognized it as the second case Richard had brought along with the engagement rings. The case that hadn’t been opened.

  “So, I have to go and get ready,” Anton informed her. “Or someone—namely Sasha—is going to start screaming bloody murder.”

  Viviana laughed. She felt a whole hell of a lot better, now, anyway.

  “Thank you for coming in here and calming me down.”

  “I love you, Viviana. Even when you’re being ridiculous.”

  A kiss was placed on her cheek, her body lighting up all over again at the gesture.

  “Tonight,” he promised. “Or as soon as I can get you into the coat room.”

  “That’s terrible.”

  “You fucking love it.”

  She wasn’t even going to deny it.

  When the case was placed on the bed, a key was slid into the lock. Anton held the top closed and sighed.

  “This isn’t from me. And while I know what it is, I don’t know what else was included with it. I do know that Richard was given instructions to include something should you have found out about Nicoli.”

  “Okay,” Viviana said, shrugging.

  She’d already had a dozen and one gifts brought to her that morning. Some of them had special requests that she not open them until later in the evening, others were for her to open right then, and some were private for just her and Anton. Viviana didn’t think this would be any different.

  His hand grabbed hers, holding it over the case to stop the top from popping open.

  “Open it after I’m gone. That was his request.”

  One more kiss dropped down to the corner of her mouth before he winked and stood. When the door to the hotel room closed, Viviana removed her hand and chanced a glance down. Resting in grey velvet lay a matching necklace and earring set that had her heartbeat stuttering.

  Similar in color and design to the engagement ring on her finger, glittering blue sapphires rested in crowns of white diamonds. The delicate white gold rope that held it all together would only be long enough to rest at the hollow of her throat. The cerulean-colored jewels and sparkling diamonds would fit her gown without taking anything away from it. Teardrop-style earrings rested just below a single folded-up piece of paper that had turned a yellowish tint from age.

  With suddenly shaking hands, she plucked it up before she could second guess the choice and began to read scrawled words that were dated at the top over two decades before. Tears welled at the name written in black ink at the bottom.

  It was the connection to a man she hadn’t known she was looking for.

  Viviana,

  In my life, I’ve taken many things that weren’t mine to own. A wife, a son, money, possessions, and lives. I did so without concern or care, and felt no guilt or remorse. I’ve bartered, stole, and coveted. I’ve cheated, hurt, and killed. There are no excuses worthy of the life I chose to live, but it was the one I made for myself nonetheless.

  The only thing given to me that was finally mine to keep, I gave away: you.

  I like to believe when decades have gone by, I won’t feel quite as raw about it as I do now. Somehow, I doubt it. Regret is a heavy weight to carry, and this is the first time I’ve worn it so wholly.

  And forgive me for taking the one chance I had to someday have you back.

  My grandfather called them old souls. A person with eyes so expressive just a blink appeared to be years traveled. People often wonder why I am so adept at finding the best matches in the worst situations, but it isn’t difficult when the old souls are staring back, waiting for connection.

  When they meet, it’s hard not to take notice.

  As I write this, Anton is but four years old. He’s never spoken a word in English before today, and the first sentence out of his mouth when his mother woke him up was, “Where is Vine?” It was only yesterday evening that he met you, as did I. A tiny girl with the oldest eyes was the one little person he’s spoken to outside of his mother, father, and me.

  In the end, his old soul was just waiting to be brought back to yours.

  I wish I could know if I made the right choice, sweet girl. In more ways than you know, I so wish for that. When you meet him at the end of the aisle today, I must have faith you will find the arrangement was made more of your own desires, than of others wills and mistakes.

  And I hope he makes you live.

  After all, this is just the beginning …

  Nicoli

  About the Author

  Bethany-Kris is a Canadian author, lover of much, and mother of two very young sons, two cats, and two dogs. A small town in Eastern Canada where she was born and raised is where she has always called home. With her two boys under her feet, her spouse calling over his shoulder, and animals sitting by her side, she is nearly always writing something … when she can find the time.

  More from This Author

  (From Lynked by Bethany-Kris)

  “Hey, Jordan.”

  Immediately, Nic’s older brother asked, “What’s wrong?”

  Sighing quietly, she shot a fleeting glance out at the Grand Falls gorge from her apartment’s bay window. She should have known better than to call him back before she calmed herself down. There was no hiding anything from Jordan. Or maybe it was just Nic who couldn’t hide things from him. After all, because they were only a year apart in age they had grown up stuck to one another and even though he had moved an entire country away, they were still as close as ever.

  “Nothing. I just—”

  “Liar. You’re sniffy again.”

  “Sniffy?”

  A deep laugh filled the receiver. “Yeah, you get the sniffles when you cry and then you act all sniffy for hours after.”

  “I do not!”

  “Whatever you say, sis.”

  “Did you want something?” Nic asked, trying to draw her brother away from her current emotional state.

  “You called me, Veronica.”

  “You called me first.”

  “I can’t call my little sister for a chat when I’m bored?” When Nic didn’t respon
d, she heard her brother drum his fingers before he said, “Seriously, what’s wrong?”

  Nic didn’t know what to say. Really, it was a lot of things. Between being fired from her job at the clothing store, the sudden emptiness of her bank account, and the crazy ex-boyfriend who just wouldn’t get the fucking hint and disappear, she was ready to call it quits.

  “Is Don giving you issues again?” Jordan asked, voice turning dark.

  “No,” she replied. At his disbelieving noise, Nic flinched. “Okay, so he’s been around.”

  “Just around?”

  “He showed up at Shreds yesterday going on like he usually does…”

  Trailing off, Nic figured she didn’t need to say any more. Jordan would get the hint. Her ex-boyfriend was a sore topic, one she didn’t like to discuss. Don had a possessive streak, and while it wasn’t anything Nic couldn’t handle on her own, sometimes he got to be a little bit much. It certainly didn’t help that her hometown was so small everyone knew everyone else’s business. Or at least they thought they did.

  Don happened to be the son of the county mayor, so his behavior was constantly being overlooked and excused. Nic, on the other hand, was the daughter of a less than favorable woman in everyone else’s eyes. A woman who had been known to sleep around, dabble in drugs, and neglect the children she’d bore.

  People tended to lump Nic and Jordan in the same category as their mother without really giving them a chance. It was just assumed that Nic was a whore and that Jordan would be no better than the father who had up and left when they were only babies. It was a battle they constantly fought against, and a cycle Nic was determined to break. She wouldn’t ever be her mother. In fact, she tried so damned hard to be everything her mother wasn’t. She never touched drugs, didn’t step out of line as a teenager, and rarely took chances that would make her look irresponsible. That wasn’t who she wanted to be.

  But closed-minded people were still closed-minded.

  “And?” Jordan finally asked. Nic didn’t miss the tension in his tone.

  “My boss wasn’t there yesterday.”

  “Good.”

  “Today he was,” Nic said softly. “And then Don decided to make another appearance.”