Scorched (Sizzle #2)

by Sarah O'Rourke

  Scorched

  By Sarah O’Rourke

  Copyright © 2015 by Sarah O’Rourke

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication or cover design artwork may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods in current use or to be developed in the future, without the prior express written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law (US. Copyright Act of 1976).

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and settings are fictitious, and are the sole property of Sarah O’Rourke. Any resemblance to actual events, names, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Any real setting, person, or situation is used in a fictitious manner with literary license.

  This work of fiction is intended for mature audiences.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Epilogue

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Devil

  Holding his preferred expensive Cuban cigar clenched between his shiny, white incisors, Devil Delancy glared through the picturesque French window located at the front of his sprawling home. The sheer window treatment offered him an unobstructed view of the occupants residing inside the dwelling, and needless to say, he was less than happy with what he was seeing.

  Inhaling deeply, he tried to allow the aromatic smoke to soothe his frayed nerves while he watched, undetected and hidden by the shrubbery dotting the landscape. His jaw clenched as he watched his love, his Molly, heft yet another china plate toward her face, her eyebrows furrowing as she studied the etched pattern adorning the rim with discerning, albeit tired, eyes.

  Christ on a cracker, he thought to himself, this wedding madness was going to be the death of them both… and it wasn’t even their ceremony!

  Nope, he’d been happily married for over two mostly glorious years to the amazing woman currently kneeling on the floor next to a stack of china inside the house. Their wedding woes should have been nothing but dim memories, but noooooo…. Somehow, he and Molly (oh, hell, let’s be real… it was mostly Molly) were now playing wedding planners and party hosts to the commitment ceremony of his dependable executive assistant, Armando Savage, and his Vice President of Mergers and Acquisitions, Nick Santino.

  How, you ask, did this happen? Go ahead, ASK!

  Well, that’s simple.

  His own blushing bride had a death wish. That’s right! Molly had willingly allowed herself to be submerged in this storm of matrimonial madness that had descended from the heavens. His own completely crazy, but inarguably beautiful wife had volunteered to organize and host the freaking festivities. And she’d signed up for this duty while she’d been NINE months pregnant, knowing full well that he’d never be able to deny her anything that close to delivering their child. Never mind the fact that Devil had known that she would be a brand new mother, running on minute amounts of sleep and aided by copious doses of caffeine. None of that had mattered a single iota. On the contrary, Molly had forged ahead, determined to give her gay bestie the perfect day despite being in the middle of giving birth to a brand spanking new tiny human.

  Yeah, it was entirely possible that his wife had gone certifiably insane. In fact, he would have been willing to bet money on it. He’d have been thrilled to have blamed it on pregnancy hormones, but even after his own little Devylynn had made her appearance a mere eight weeks ago, Molly had continued to insist on spearheading Operation: Get the Guys Hitched.

  And when was this anticipated ceremony set to commence, you ask?

  VALENTINE’S DAY!

  That’s right. Their good friends, Gay and Gayer, had chosen the most stereotypical holiday of all time to tether the ol’ ball to the chain.

  Idiots.

  Devil sighed heavily and shook his head as he watched Molly yawn widely and set aside the china plate while she made some kind of note in her ever-present oversized wedding bible. Oh, how he wanted to burn that book. He’d thought his wedding had been a challenge, but he was quickly realizing that his own special day had been a walk in the park compared to Mannie and Nick’s Big V-Day Wedding Extravaganza. And, yeah, Big Day should appear in capital letters here because Molly had insisted to him time and again that nothing less than their very best would do. (He’d learned months ago that it was really just better (and safer, too!) for him to turn over his credit card, close his eyes, and let the chips fall where they may. He was nothing if not a self-preservationist.)

  Bitterly, he recognized that it was now official. His ass was currently (and for the foreseeable future) residing in what could only be called a holiday hell of the Cupid variety (and as a special side note - if he ever got his shot, that arrow that the little imp carried around with him was going directly up that diapered fool’s ass). And as God as his witness, he was gonna dance across that sappy cherub freak’s fuckin’ coffin if something didn’t give soon. St. Valentine could kiss his hairy ass… he wanted his wife back, dammit. Hell, he was a decent enough guy, wasn’t he? He didn’t mind loaning Molly out for her wacky friend’s wedding planning, but this craziness had gotten so far out of hand that it could be spotted from the space station.

  Lifting his hand, Devil rubbed his jaw, the short hairs of his five o’clock shadow abrading his palm as he stared at his weary wife with a resigned eye. Surrounded by china plates and paper saucers full of half-eaten wedding cake samples, she was still a vision of loveliness. He was honest with himself and knew that she was the light shining at the end of his very long tunnel, beckoning him toward her. Well, at least she would beckon if she could devote her attention to him. Unfortunately, his current enemies were making that difficult. Moving his gaze to the interlopers that sat on either side of his wife, he tried not to feel envious of the trio of cockblockers. He tried, but he knew it was an effort doomed to fail.

  Lately, Molly’s best friends, Mannie, Vivian, and Samantha, had seen more of his wife than he had. Every moment she wasn’t with Devylynn, one of her cohorts was devouring her attention regarding the upcoming commitment ceremony. And if he was being completely honest, he wasn’t accustomed to being an afterthought in his own house. Between being a new mother and wedding planner extraordinaire, Molly’d had next to no time or energy for him. He couldn’t lie; that smarted. She’d become so obsessed with giving Armando the wedding of his dreams that she’d forgotten those vows they’d made to put each other first in all things. Hell, just this morning, he’d caught himself feeling jealous of his own precious daughter while he’d watched her hungrily nurse at her momma’s ample breasts. His own kid! He wasn’t proud of it, but he was self-aware enough to admit that they had some problems.

  And three of those dastardly problems were sitting inside the house with his woman.

  Forcing himself to take a deep breath, he reminded himself that all marriages had their share of challenges. According to his Nana, for every hill life offered, there would be a valley to balance it out or some sentimental crap like that. But damn, couldn’t he just get to the top of the mountain and stay there with Molly for a few uninterrupted minutes?

  Nobody could blame him for how he felt, could they? Of course not, he thought decisively, crossing his arms over his broad chest as he continued to eye his wife. It wasn’t as though he was completely
selfish. He’d been patient with her, dammit. He’d given her time following the birth of their perfect child to heal and rest – at least he’d tried. Was it his fault if Molly was convinced that he and their child couldn’t survive without her constant supervision? He wasn’t allowed to breathe near the baby unless her watchful eye was narrowed upon him.

  Not to mention, the six-week anniversary of their tiny little miracle’s birth had come and gone over two weeks ago with very little fanfare. Both mother and daughter had visited their respective physicians and been pronounced hale and whole. It should have been cause for much celebration in Delancy Land.

  Suffice it to say, nary a shout for joy was heard.

  He hadn’t said a single negative word about it, but try as he might (and despite her obstetrician pronouncing her recovered), he STILL hadn’t managed to coax his wife back into their marriage bed. No, instead of tears and a temper tantrum, he’d been entirely supportive. He’d done the manly thing and resorted to an extra long shower with only his hand, his imagination, and his memories of better times for company. Okay, if he was completely honest, there’d been a few tears.

  Oh, he didn’t blame her exactly. He was well aware that she was burning the midnight oil to pull off a wedding coup de grace AND get a nomination for mother of the year. If it wasn’t all about their daughter, then it was ALL about the commitment ceremony. But, he couldn’t help questioning when it could become just a little bit ALL about THEM again.

  He’d been hoping that tonight would be the night they’d rediscover each other. He’d made arrangements for their kid (despite Molly’s argument that she didn’t need any time alone). The little Devyl was now happily ensconced at her grandparents’ house, being spoiled like the little princess she was. He had his supplies. Glancing down at the bouquet of roses he held in his left hand and the bottle of Merlot he held in his right, he was sure that he had the tools required to romance his wife. Now, all he had to do was get rid of the unwelcome guests taking up residence in his home.

  It was definitely time to evict the squatters, he decided as he strode with a purposeful step toward his ornate front door. Letting himself in quickly, he could hear that the wedding planning was still in full swing in the living room.

  Of course, he wasn’t going to allow that to slow him down.

  Marching into the living room, he directed a smile toward his wife as he announced, “Honey, I’m home!”

  She (and her minions), however, barely spared him a glance as they continued to pass a dark bottle from person to person.

  “Mmmmm,” Sami hummed her approval as she savored the mouthful of decadent champagne happily, completely ignoring Devil’s entrance per her usual. “Molly is right, Mannie. Cristal is really the only way to go for the wedding toast. At least for the head table. We can always use the Anderson Valley Roederer for the rest of the guests. The wedding party, though…we definitely need the good stuff.”

  “I come bearing gifts, sweetheart,” Devil tried again, brandishing his roses and sliding them in front of Molly’s nose.

  Batting the roses out of the way, Molly ignored her husband and instead concentrated on the prospective groom. Arching one eyebrow while her pen was held poised over her wedding planner guide, she stared at Armando while she awaited his decision. “The Anderson fits our budget, too, Mannie,” she added hopefully.

  “Perfecto!” Armando declared enthusiastically. “The premium champagne for us and swill for the less fortunate! As Marie Antionette would say, ‘Let them eat cake’,” he added with a playful wink.

  Devil watched impatiently as Molly choked back laughter while she nodded and made another note in her bible. Dropping the wine he held to the mahogany end table next to the sofa with a loud thunk, he wondered if he was invisible. Clearing his throat, he tried again, saying the one thing guaranteed to capture his wife’s attention. “I would have been here earlier, but I wanted to stop by and check on the baby before I came home.”

  Molly froze, lifting her eyes to meet Devil’s. “And? Is she okay? Did they remember to thicken her formula with cereal for her last bottle? Did you remind them that she won’t sleep as well if she doesn’t eat at least three quarters of the bottle?” she asked in quick succession, her hand already reaching for her cell phone in the center of the coffee table. “Never mind, I’ll just call Momma and…”

  “Molly, drop the phone and come down off the ceiling,” Devil ordered gently, bending to grab her iPhone from her hand before she could dial. “Seriously, babe, our girl is just fine. I don’t know if you remember, but your mom and dad already raised a couple of kids rather successfully,” he teased.

  “Very cute, Devil. Now, gimmee back my phone and let me check on our daughter,” she whined, lifting her chin to blink up at him as she held out her hand.

  He sighed as he caught and held her gorgeous green-eyed gaze. Damn, he was done for. He was pretty certain that even after two years of marriage that just the mere sight of this beautiful woman would make him literally weak in the knees. And when she looked at him with those big Bambi eyes of hers, he was completely helpless. If she asked for the moon, he’d find a way to rope the fucker and bring it down to her.

  It had been like that forever. From the moment she had walked into his office, her newly-minted but almost entirely useless art history degree in her excited little hands, he had known that his life would never be the same again. Sure, they had almost grown up together; her brother was his best and oldest friend, after all. But grown-up Molly trumped pig-tailed Molly in spades. Being the savvy businessman that he was, he had known how to get what he wanted...and hiring her as his assistant was a pure stroke of genius on his part. Using his grandmother’s supposed heart disease to con her into posing as his fiancé had been the exact springboard their relationship had needed. A whirlwind engagement that almost collapsed due to a past indiscretion with a malicious ex-girlfriend had indeed led to their fairytale wedding...finally. Not only had Molly converted him from a love-'em-and-leave-'em kind of bachelor to a faithfully devoted married man, but she had also given him their incredibly loud, albeit beautiful, daughter, who was thankfully sound asleep in her grandparents’ house.

  “Devil!” Molly growled, shaking her open palm at him irritably.

  Rolling his eyes, Devil dropped the flat phone in her hand. “Fine, but I just talked to your mother fifteen minutes ago and she assured me that our daughter had eaten her fill and drifted off about an hour ago. If you wake that sleeping baby with your phone call, you will endure your mother’s wrath without my help. I already got yelled at once this evening for almost disturbing our daughter’s sleep.”

  Molly’s lips twitched from side to side as she deliberated his warning. “Fine,” she finally mumbled under her breath. “I’ll just text Momma later and check in with her.”

  “Wonderful, mi amigas. Does this mean we can chit chat about my honeymoon plans?” Mannie asked excitedly, his dark eyes dancing with merriment. “I’m thinking white sandy beaches and teeny tiny speedos for my little Nico! I can’t wait to cha-cha-cha, with my hot hunk of love on a nice, deserted cove with the warm water lapping at our legs as we….”

  “Arghhh,” Devil groaned with a shudder, the mere thought of a mostly naked Nick Santino enough to almost turn him off all thoughts of sex.

  Almost.

  “Savage, I will hurt you if you continue that sentence,” Devil growled, pointing a threatening finger at Armando. “Or have you forgotten our conversation about boundaries?” Truthfully, he didn’t know if he was more irritated by the reference to Armando’s sex life or the reminder that his present sex life was non-existent.

  “Those boundaries were only for the office, Papi. Here is fair game, yes? We are familia.” Mannie corrected, gesturing around the elegant living room as his espresso-colored eyes twinkled merrily.

  “Think again, amigo,” Devil retorted, glaring at Armando.

  “Unless you want Devil to beat you like a piñata, I suggest you hush, Mannie,” Vi
vian warned softly, ever the diplomat as she elbowed her Hispanic friend in the ribs before he could say something else to get him in trouble.

  “Devil,” Molly admonished, her jade eyes narrowing in irritation as she looked up at her husband, “You are not being a very good host to our guests.”

  “Yeah, Devil,” Samantha sneered, always eager to egg him on, “I’m beginning to feel rather unwelcome in your lovely home. Sometimes, I get the feeling that you just don’t like having us around at all, sugar,” the beautiful blonde model continued to goad, crossing one leg over the other as she reclined in the Queen Anne chair in the corner.

  “Oh, was I being too subtle for you, She-beast?” Devil replied silkily. “Allow me to remedy that situation. Get. Out. All of you.”

  “Devil!” Molly gasped, bolting to her feet. “Forty years old or not, Nana would blister your backside still if she had heard that! You are being unforgivably rude. Be nice and apologize,” she demanded, propping one hand on her hip.

  Samantha’s lips curled in amusement as she watched Molly berate her husband. “Oh, Molly, honey, I don’t think your husband knows any other way to be. It just comes naturally to him,” she remarked sweetly.

  “Only with you, Samantha. Only with you,” Devil drawled, wondering not for the first time how the caustic model and his Molly could be such good friends. Vivian, he could understand. Hell, he enjoyed Viv’s company. Gentle and smart, Viv had just made partner at her law firm, and he was debating bringing Delancy Industries business to her. He knew his account wouldn’t be safer anywhere else and there were definite benefits to keeping his business in the family.