Trick You: A Brother's Best Friend Romance (Rebel Ink Book 2)

by Tracy Lorraine

  “What if I don’t want it to?” he asks, a little hope filtering into his voice.

  “Carter,” I sigh. “This little trip was… interesting. But I’ve got a life to get back to. A job. I can’t just continue to party with you and pretend none of that exists.”

  “Did I say anything about pretending? Something big happened while we were in Vegas, doll, and I’m not prepared to forget about that just yet. Forget about you.” He steps up to me, his scent filling my nose, and his hand lifts to tuck a lock of my curly hair behind my ear. “I’m not ready to forget any of it. I’d hoped I might have proved to you that I want this. I want to see where it goes. We can push the husband and wife thing to the side for now and just go back to the beginning. I just want to give this the time it deserves.”

  I stare at him. The honesty in his words makes my heart ache. It desperately wants to agree, to throw caution to the wind and see where this thing could take us. But my head? That’s a very different story. It’s screaming at me to turn and run as fast as I can, because whatever this is, is only going to end in heartache. Carter isn’t the kind of guy who does a happily ever after. Or is he?

  Fuck. My head is so messed up.

  “I…” His eyes brighten that he might be about to get the response he wants. It kills me not to be able to give it to him. “I need some time, Carter. I need to go home, get back to reality, and then see how I feel. I’m not making any decisions after a few days of drinking in Vegas and a long-haul flight.”

  His shoulders drop, and I hate myself that little bit more for doing this to him. But it’s right. I can’t get carried away with this. I need a plan.

  “So what? I call you in a few days and find out if you want me in your life or not?”

  I wince. It sounds so harsh when he says it like that. “Please, don’t be like that.”

  “Why not? That’s exactly what you’re saying. And if you decide that you don’t, then what? Can I expect divorce papers through my door in a few weeks’ time?”

  “I don’t know, Carter,” I all but cry. “This situation is way beyond anything I’ve dealt with before. “Just call me in a few days and we’ll talk. That’s all I can offer right now.” I know I’m taking the pussy way out, but I don’t know how else to deal with this. What I really need is to talk to someone who might be able to make me see straight. Biff wasn’t a lot of help while we were in Vegas, and rightly so—she was in newly wedded bliss.

  What I really want is a hug from my mum and for her to tell me that everything will be okay, only I’m terrified to admit what’s happened in the last three days. It’s going to be bad enough that Zach planned a Vegas wedding without them. But Mum’s going be heartbroken when I admit what I’ve done.

  “Danni,” Carter begs as I walk towards an awaiting taxi.

  “Just give me some time.” Every muscle in my body demands for me to turn, but I’m petrified of what I might find looking back at me.

  Stiffening my spine, I speak to the driver before allowing him to put my case in the boot and climbing into the back of his car. At no point do I look back, but it’s not until we turn away from the taxi bay that we lose his attention. My skin cools immediately, and the huge weight of regret fills my stomach.

  I shouldn’t have left things like that. He deserves more from me.

  “Fuck,” I bark, slouching back in the seat. The driver’s eyes meet mine in the mirror for a beat, but thankfully he doesn’t say anything, just allows me to be miserable in peace.

  I should be feeling relieved that I can go home and continue with my normal life, so why is it that as I sit here, I’m already starting to miss him? I don’t know why, but I was beginning to get used to his annoying banter.

  I let out a sigh and try to switch my mind off as we make our way through the city. Going over everything again and again isn’t going to get me anywhere. I’m still married to a guy who turns me on more than anyone I’ve ever met but is nothing like I’ve always said I wanted.

  Does that matter? a little voice shouts in my head, but I ignore her.

  The second I get inside my flat, I turn on my coffee machine before dumping my case on my bed and running myself a bath. The five-star chair-come-bed on the plane was pretty comfortable, but still my muscles are pulled tight with the stress of the past seventy-two hours.

  With a steaming mug of coffee resting on the side, I step into the hot water. It burns, but I welcome the sting of pain as I sink down lower. I rest my head back and will everything to float away.

  By the time I get out, the water is uncomfortably cold and my coffee has long disappeared. My phone’s been vibrating against the unit I put it on in my bedroom before I stripped off; I dread to look. As far as I know, he doesn’t have my number, but I’m sure it would take him minutes to get hold of it.

  With my little bit of relaxation ruined, I wrap myself in towels and go and see who wants me.

  I breathe a sigh of relief when I find it’s just Biff wanting to know if I got home safely and to make sure I didn’t throw Carter off the plane.

  I reply that we’re both back in London safe, but I don’t go into any more details. I’m sure that once she’s back she’ll thoroughly grill me on everything that’s happened.

  It’s still early, and even though it’s a Saturday morning, I’m seriously tempted to go into work to catch up with what I missed the last few days as a way of distracting myself from reality, but when my phone starts ringing, I lie back on the bed and forget all about it.

  “Hey, how’s it going?” Lauren asks. We’ve only exchanged a few messages since the night of Zach’s birthday a couple of weekends ago.

  “Um…” I hesitate.

  “Wow, that good?”

  “You’ve no fucking idea. Are you sitting down?”

  “Hang on.” I hear her open a door, and then the sound of birds singing rings through the phone. “Okay, shoot.”

  I give her the basics, much to her horror.

  “You got fucking married in Vegas, and to someone you don’t even like?” she screeches.

  “Yeah. I mean, I don’t really not like him. He’s not like, horrible or anything. He’s just not…”

  “Your ideal man,” she finishes for me. Although Lauren and I have drifted apart over the past few years as our lives have taken different turns, she’s still the one who knows me best. We met when we were sixteen, we started adulthood together and leant on each other as we made the biggest decisions of our lives, most of which involved a lot more planning and brainpower than my smart arse move to get married.

  “No. He’s a tattoo artist, he’s covered in ink, he’s got a foul mouth, he’s…”

  “Just like Zach and Ben.”

  “Err…”

  “Both of whom are pretty great guys, don’t you think? So what, he’s not a banker, or lawyer? They’re all pretentious jobs anyway. I’m not sure any banker has ever thrown his girl over his shoulder and carried her caveman-style to the bedroom.”

  “Who says I want that?”

  “Oh, come off it, Dan. You’ve been spending too much time with your parents’ friends. Does this guy give you the feels? You know, the tingles,” she whispers.

  I think back to the night on Biff’s sofa and then in the shower last night. Oh yeah, there’s tingles.

  “I’ll take your silence as a yes, then.”

  I huff.

  “What’s the worst that could happen? Your parents won’t care, they’ve always told you they’d support you as long as you’re happy. They’re not like Biff’s. He might turn out to be the exact bit of rough you need.”

  I sigh.

  “Come on, out with it.”

  “What if he hurts me?”

  “And what if he doesn’t? What if he’s the most incredible husband and the one person who can really make you happy?”

  Her words are still spinning around in my head long after we cut off the call. Deciding that going into work is kinda sad after a few days living it up in Vegas, I pu
t on a pair of yoga pants and a sports bra and head out for a run. The drizzle from when we first arrived has cleared, replaced by warm spring sun. It could be the exact medicine I need to clear my head.

  Slipping my phone into my pocket, I put my earbuds in and set off on my normal route.

  When I descend the steps to my basement flat almost an hour later with a takeout coffee and cupcake in hand, the last thing I expect to find is someone waiting for me. Someone with a daunting looking suitcase.

  Now what?

  21

  Carter

  Pushing through the door to our flat, I startle a little when I find Spike awake and sitting on the sofa, staring down at his phone and clutching a coffee.

  “Morning,” I grunt.

  “Ah, here he is. Mr. Danniella Abbot.”

  “Please, don’t,” I groan, dropping my small case where I am and launching myself at the other sofa.

  “Uh oh, trouble in paradise already?”

  “There hasn’t been any paradise, only trouble,” I mutter.

  “But I thought you said you’d got your dick wet? That must have been getting pretty close to paradise.”

  “Jesus, that’s my wife you’re talking about.”

  “Exactly. Which leads me to my next point.” I look up at him, wondering what mind-blowing statement is going to fall from his lips next. “Why are you here? Shouldn’t you be shacking up with your little lady?”

  I open my mouth to respond, but he beats me to it.

  “Do not tell me that you’re here to kick me out so she can move in. This is my gaff, and you know it.”

  “You think I’d want to move her into this shithole? She actually has some standards.”

  “Fuck you, arsehole. I’ll have you know this place was cleaned yesterday.”

  “Of course it fucking was. Ann comes every fucking Friday.”

  “Right, so what’s you point? It’s a great flat.”

  “To you it is. It’s right between a strip club and a load of bars.”

  “Fucking right, my man. What else does a single guy need? Anyway, anyway, you’re distracting me. She’s not moving in here, yet you’re here. So… what gives?”

  “Nothing fucking gives. She left me at Heathrow like a forgotten fucking toy, telling me that she’d ring me in a few days once she’s got her head straight or some fucking bullshit.”

  “And you’re letting that happen?”

  “What the fuck am I meant to do?”

  “Force her hand a little.”

  “I’m not forcing her to do anything. I’ve already fucked things up enough for her. In case you’d forgotten, I tricked her into thinking I was my brother to get a date in the first place, then I went on to marry her while we were both drunk.”

  “And doesn’t that just prove the lengths you’ll go to for this chick?”

  “That’s one way of looking at it. Unfortunately, it’s not her way of looking at it.”

  “Make her.”

  “How?” I ask again, hoping his idea might be a little more eloquent than anything else he’s said since I got back.

  “Repack that case and get your arse to her flat. Tell her you’re moving in with your wife. Make her get to know you. Make her realise that she can’t live without you.”

  “That’s crazy, you know that, right?”

  “Maybe. But it’s not out of the question. I can see that you’re considering it.”

  And fuck if he’s not right. I told her that I’d prove to her by the end of our few days together that she should give me a chance, and she’s run as fast as she could. Maybe it is time to do things on my terms and not allow her to hide back inside her comfort zone. That place is for fucking chumps, and no wife of mine is one of those.

  I push up from the sofa, my muscles set with determination.

  “Yes, man. Make her fucking yours.”

  I’m making my way past the kitchen when a wine glass catches my eye. “Am I about to stumble across a half-naked woman?” It wouldn’t be the first time I walked into the bathroom, hell, even the hallway, to find one of Spike’s conquests flaunting everything she’s got.

  “Nah, she already left.”

  I guess that explains why he’s up so early.

  I dump my bag on my bed and hit the shower before repacking with some clean clothes and going to do exactly what Spike suggested.

  I never thought I’d be taking relationship advice from the king of fuck ‘em and chuck ‘em, but it seems he was right when he tried convincing me not to lie on my dating profile. He told me time and time again that I was enough and that the right one would turn up. He was proved right when the one girl I found turned her back on me the second she saw who I really was. It was only luck that she turned out to be Zach’s sister and that I was able to fight for a second chance. So maybe he’s more knowledgeable than I ever gave him credit for.

  After all, what’s the worst that could happen? She could slam the door in my face, and I come back here with my tail between my legs.

  “Hey, man. You get back okay?” Zach asks when our call connects.

  “Yeah, great. Listen, I need a huge favour.”

  “Go on,” Zach says with a groan.

  “I need her address. She got in a taxi the second we arrived back and I’ve no way of finding her.”

  “Do you think that maybe she did that on purpose?”

  “Honestly, I don’t give a shit. If it were Biff, what would you do?”

  We both know the answer. He’d go to the ends of the earth to find her. “I’m fucking serious, you hurt her and I’ll—”

  “Hurt me, yeah. I got that memo. Just tell me.”

  “Fine,” he grunts, clearly unhappy with it but knowing it’s the only way to deter me. “How do you want it?”

  “Just tell me. I’ll remember.”

  He rattles off an address for the fanciest end of Kensington, and I wince. It’s a huge reminder of why I’m not the kind of man Danni was looking for. She was after successful businessman, not an artist with more issues than money.

  Refusing to think of all the reasons we’re so wrong for each other, I hang up and grab my bag once more.

  Spike’s in the kitchen when I pass.

  “Wish me luck.”

  “You don’t need it. Sweep her off your feet with your charm.”

  “I think we both know I don’t have a lot of that.”

  “Fine. Show her your tats and rock her world, she won’t be able to refuse after that.”

  “I’ll do my best,” I say with a laugh as I leave him to the washing up.

  I order a car as I descend the stairs to our building, and after only a two-minute wait standing on the pavement, my driver appears. The street is pretty quiet, that’s not really a surprise. What I said about our flat earlier is true. We might live over a bakery, but a few doors down to our left is Pulse, one of the city’s best strip clubs, and we’re surrounded by all other kinds of bars. It’s been amazing over the years. We can fall from our front door and directly into a place full of drink and often women. It’s no wonder Spike is as big a dog as he is. He just can’t resist temptation.

  The second we enter Kensington, the obvious differences from where I just left make themselves known, the architecture becoming fancier, more detailed. There are more people about, jogging, meeting friends, and what they’re wearing is markedly different to the few hungover people who were on our street.

  Before I’ve even got out of the car, I feel totally out of place.

  I stare at the house I’m about to walk towards. It’s huge. There’s a giant black front door with chrome fittings, and the windows are massive, I’d imagine letting loads of light into the vast rooms beyond. I can’t even comprehend just how much money it must be worth.

  After I walk through the front gate, I turn left towards a set of stairs that descend to the basement flat, although I have a feeling it’s not going to be like any dark and dingy basement flat I’ve ever been in before.

  Unl
ike upstairs, the front door down here is bright pink. I can’t imagine Danni and Zach’s older brother was all that thrilled about that decision, but I guess at least you can’t see it from the street. There are thriving plant pots surrounding the small space and a bistro set that’s already in the beam of sun from above. It might only be a small bit of outside space, but it’s perfect, and weirdly, I can already imagine myself drinking a morning coffee out here.

  I ring the bell, trying to push down my apprehension about how she’s going to react, but it never comes because the door doesn’t open and I’m not met with my fiery wife.

  Glancing in through the window, I find a spotless kitchen, but other than a mug sitting on this side, I see no sign of life.

  Not wanting to give up so easily, I pull out one of the chairs and take a seat, prepared to wait for her. There’s a good chance she’s just upstairs with her brother and his family, but like fuck am I knocking on their front door, looking for my new wife. I chuckle to myself when an image of her angry face pops into my head. My cock swells slightly. I do love her when she’s angry.

  Not all that much time passes before I hear footsteps heading my way, but my arse is numb from the metal seat and I’m dying for a coffee. If I knew she’d keep me waiting like this, I’d have stopped to pick one up.

  As I keep my eyes on the stairs, a pair of pink trainers and then a set of sculpted legs wrapped in a floral pair of yoga pants emerges. I watch her body as it’s revealed to me, my mouth watering as I take in all her perfectly displayed curves and the light sheen of sweat that covers her skin.

  She’s clutching the exact thing I want when all of her emerges: a coffee, and something that can only be delicious inside a paper bag.

  She doesn’t notice me straight away, so I get to witness her shock when I stand.

  “Jesus, fuck, Carter. What the hell are you doing here?” The little paper bag lifts to her chest in shock, and my hand twitches to reach out to save it.

  As I take a step forward, her eyes land on something behind me.

  “W-why have you brought a suitcase?”

  “I’m moving in,” I state.