Mr. Blackwell's Bride: A Fake Marriage Romance (A Good Wife Book 2)

by Sienna Blake

  I was still glaring at Wright. He grinned at me over Noriko’s head, daring me to make a scene in front of the press.

  Damn him. As much as I wanted to rip his arm off by its socket and shove it up his ass, I couldn’t. Part of my success was based on my reputation. I couldn’t be seen brawling with a fellow businessman. At a charity auction, no less.

  The quicker I faked a smile, the quicker the photo would be taken, and his slimy paws would come off my wife.

  I faced forward and forced a smile, tugging Noriko closer to me. I heard Wright chuckle.

  The flash went off again and the photographer thanked us.

  I yanked Noriko away from Wright. I was ready to leave, but I had to make one last thing clear.

  I glared at Kristie. “I never cheated on you. We were never exclusive. I made that explicit.”

  She sniffed. “You did not.”

  I sighed. I gave up. “As much as I am dying to stand around all night trading pleasantries, we really must be going.”

  “Drake, my boy, they’re about to call the first painting,” Wright said. “The Renoir that I noticed you were paying particular attention to. I was looking forward to snatching it right out from under you.”

  “Noriko has a headache.”

  “She didn’t say anything about a headache.”

  “She doesn’t have to. I can tell by the tension in her…er, forehead. That’s what happens when you find the one you’re meant to be with—you can just tell things about each other. Good night.” I spun, taking Noriko with me, and charged for the door.

  “Drake,” Noriko hissed. “Slow down.”

  “Not until we are out of this tiger’s den,” I muttered. And safely in the limo.

  “I thought you wanted to buy some art?”

  I growled, as I dragged her beside me. “I changed my mind.”

  23

  ____________

  Noriko

  Drake and I sat facing each other in the limo even though he’d sat next to me on the ride here. Strangely, I missed his warm presence beside me. The leather seat was much too cold.

  He was staring out the window, not even looking at me.

  Was he thinking about that blonde? She was pretty and buxom. She seemed more like the kind of woman that a billionaire like Drake Blackwell would be with.

  Curiosity tumbled around my insides like a pinball machine until I couldn’t keep it in anymore. “She was your ex,” I blurted out.

  He looked over to me for the first time since he climbed in and sighed. “Hardly.”

  “She seemed to think so.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Kristie and I went on four dates, maybe five.”

  Kristie definitely seemed more…hurt by Drake than a four-date relationship. “Did you…” Oh God, I didn’t want to know. Shit, yes, I did. I needed to know. “Did you sleep with her?” I asked, my voice coming out all strangled.

  Drake pressed his lips together and turned his head.

  Shit. That means yes.

  Drake was a beautiful man in his thirties. Of course, I could see how he must have been sexually active before me. The thought of that woman’s hands on Drake made me want to claw something. Preferably her eyes out of her head.

  Since when was I a violent person… especially over someone like Drake?

  Shit. When did I start thinking of him as Drake and not Mr. Blackwell?

  Oh God.

  I was jealous.

  Over my husband.

  What a disaster.

  I changed the subject. “And you and Mr. Wright…?”

  He growled at the name. Actually growled. “What about that fu—” Drake cleared his throat, “that guy?” He stopped himself from swearing around me. How cute.

  “What’s his story?”

  Drake’s lip lifted. “You stay away from him.”

  I was planning to. There was something about the tall blond I didn’t like. But being ordered around just made me combative. I crossed my arms over my chest. “I’m your wife, not your slave.”

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake.” And now we’re back to swearing. “Jared Wright is the sneakiest, dirtiest, most self-interested snake you’ll ever meet.”

  I flicked through my impressions of Wright. Arrogant, without a doubt. Sleazy, to a point. But a snake? “He seemed…well-mannered enough.”

  I could almost hear the sizzle of Drake’s blood. “If he’s nice to you it’s because he wants to take you from me. If the bastard thinks he can swipe you out from under my nose like you’re some Goddamn painting I will fucking kill him with my bare…” he spluttered before slamming his mouth shut, tearing his eyes away from me to glare out the window.

  Oh…wow.

  Drake was jealous. Over me.

  A warmth bubbled up inside me. Silly girl. I was an intelligent, modern woman. I shouldn’t be condoning such caveman sentiments. I shouldn’t be happy that my husband is feeling possessive over me.

  Still… Feelings were funny things that often didn’t make any damn sense. Besides, no one had to know what I was feeling.

  “What are you smiling about?” Drake asked in a gruff voice.

  “Nothing.” I beamed at him, causing him to scowl.

  At the manor, Drake placed his hand on the small of my back as we walked up the stairs. My stomach jumbled. Oh shit. We’re going to the bedroom. He wanted…

  Sex.

  The mere thought sent a rush of heat through me, making my cheeks burn. At the same time, an anxiousness knotted in my stomach. What if I was no good? What if he saw me naked and he didn’t like it?

  Every step towards my bedroom felt like my feet were getting heavier, my head dizzier.

  My first time.

  My stomach did an elegant little loop and promptly tied itself into knots.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I squeaked out. “Yes,” I tried again. “Fine.”

  He peered at me. “You look a little pale.”

  I shook my head.

  By the time we reached my bedroom door, I had to fight to keep breathing properly.

  “Well,” he said, facing me.

  Oh my God, this was it.

  “Well…” I wiped my palms as inconspicuously as I could on my thighs.

  He smiled, that look in his eyes. I want to cry at how beautiful he appeared right at this second. “I had a wonderful time tonight, Noriko.” He paused. “At least, until Wright showed up. Even then, it was bearable because you were on my side.”

  “Of course. Me too.” My voice came out all breathy. I found myself tilting my face up to him, my lips parting, my fingers itching to run through his hair.

  His eyes dropped to my lips, hunger flashing in his eyes as it did earlier. This time, there is no Wright to stop us. No Kristie, no photographer. He slowly leaned in and…

  Stopped.

  He dragged his eyes away, suddenly finding the door over my head really interesting. He cleared his throat. “Well. Good night, then.” He turned on his heel and walked down the hall, disappearing inside his bedroom.

  I sagged against my door. What just happened? Why didn’t my husband kiss me?

  Did he not want me? Rejection burned in my veins as I tried to sort through my jumble of thoughts.

  I should be happy he doesn’t want me. This made it easier for me to avoid getting pregnant.

  Still, I was burning with disappointment. Why was I so disappointed?

  Oh God, I might actually like my husband. I might actually want him. I wanted him to want me.

  Why didn’t he want me? Was it Kristie?

  No. If he wanted Kristie, he could’ve had her. She wasn’t over him, that much I was sure of.

  I moved through my rooms, pushed open my bedroom door and flicked on the light. I froze in the doorway. My high wooden bed had been removed. Drake must have had it done while we were out. In its place was a double-sized futon. Just like the one my parents used to share.

  I remembered our conversation this morning
when he barged into my room to find me sleeping on the floor.

  He had a futon put in here for me.

  Despite my confusion over tonight, my heart warmed.

  24

  ____________

  Drake

  Standing outside her room last night I almost lost control. I never lose control.

  I had wanted to kiss her so badly, I found myself rocking forward on my toes, drawn to her. I could almost taste her lips: she would have been sweet with a hint of the champagne she’d had earlier. The way she lifted her face towards me like a flower facing the sun…

  She wanted me to kiss her.

  She parted her perfect lips. I got a glimpse of her pink tongue as it swiped across her bottom lip. I had hardened instantly at the thought of those lips around me.

  I wanted my wife.

  But I had made a promise.

  Now her four-night reprieve was over.

  Tonight she was mine.

  Mine.

  Heat flooded my body as images of her naked body under mine, her head thrown back, my tongue exploring her sweet untouched folds, her cries—

  “Drake?”

  I glanced up. Samantha was standing behind my desk, tapping her pen on her notepad. Ah, shit. I pulled myself farther under the desk to hide my raging erection. The last thing I wanted was for my assistant to think it was inspired by her.

  Her blue eyes narrowed at me. “Are you okay, Drake? You seem distracted.”

  “Fine,” I said automatically.

  I could go home. Right now. Noriko was at home waiting for me. My body screamed, fuck, yes.

  But all this work… I glanced over the files and papers on my desk. More reports to read, more papers to sign, financials to review… There was always more work that needed doing. It was never-ending.

  Right now, I couldn’t think of anything I wanted to do less.

  Noriko’s voice rang in my head. “There’s more to life than work.”

  What did it matter if I took off early for once? The world wasn’t going to stop turning. What was the point in being the boss if I couldn’t make the fucking rules?

  “Actually, I have to go,” I said, standing and grabbing my jacket from the stand behind my desk.

  “Go?” Sam shuffled through her papers, then looked up. “You don’t have any meetings on your calendar.”

  “I’m not going to a meeting. I’m going home.” To my wife. To my sexy, combative wife. I was glad my button-up jacket hid my obvious excitement over this prospect.

  “But…” Sam blinked rapidly at me as I grabbed my wallet and phone from the desk, “…it’s quarter past five.”

  “Don’t people usually finish work at this time?”

  “Yes, but…not you.”

  “Go home, Sam. There’s more to life than work.”

  Her mouth dropped open and she stared at me. “Who are you and what have you done with Drake Blackwell?”

  I laughed softly as I strolled past her, still frozen to the spot. My steps felt light. “Go home, Sam. That’s an order.”

  As soon as I got home, I instructed Loretta to let Noriko know that I would be coming to her. As much as I was dying to go straight to her, I wanted to make myself presentable first. I had to…calm myself. In the shower, I palmed my aching cock in my hands, coming against the tiles to the thought of her.

  I fussed around with shirts and pants for far too long. What the hell is this? I was like a teenager going on his first date. I growled and yanked on a plain white shirt. These clothes weren’t staying on for long. A quick brush of my damp hair, a spray of cologne and I was striding down the short distance to her suite.

  I paused outside her bedroom.

  I could hear movement beyond the door. I lifted my fist to knock, finding I had to clear a tiny knot in my throat. Was I…nervous?

  Ridiculous. Mr. Blackwell, CEO of Blackwell Industries, did not get nervous.

  “Come in,” her sweet voice called.

  I slipped inside her room and shut the door behind me.

  She stood in front of her futon, her fragile body precarious in a pair of towering heels, a black dress hugging her tiny waist and skimming over her slim hips. Her dark, long hair framed her sweetheart face, her lips a vibrant red.

  Damn.

  She was a siren cloaked in innocence, that perfect blend of girl and woman, built to lure men to their doom.

  Mrs. Blackwell.

  My wife.

  Mine.

  Satisfaction and lust pooled in my lower belly, causing my lip to tug up and my dick to swell again. This was turning out to be an extremely worthwhile investment.

  Her eyes met mine, widening before her gaze dropped to the floor. For the first time since I met her, Noriko appeared nervous. Unsure.

  I frowned. I wanted her to be comfortable. I wasn’t sure how to do that. I knew that striding over there and tearing her clothes off with my teeth was not going to make her relax.

  “Noriko.”

  “Mr. Blackwell,” she said, her voice as soft as falling snow.

  “Please, call me Drake.”

  What now?

  Right. She likes to talk. Like she did at dinner the other night. I remembered some questions she asked me. “Did you have a good day?” I echoed her.

  Her eyes lifted to mine in surprise before she lowered her lashes again. “Yes, thank you.”

  “Good. Very good.” I cleared my throat. What now? “What did you do?”

  “I…read.”

  She liked to read.

  “What book?”

  She shuffled a little. “Sun Tzu’s The Art of War. I…took it from your library. I hope you don’t mind.”

  The Art of War. From my library. I didn’t mind. In fact, a tug of respect went through me. Perhaps…perhaps she’d like to discuss it after she was done reading it. “Of course not. This home is yours, too. You can do what you like. Go where you like.”

  “Except call my father. Or go into the west wing,” she blurted out. “Sir,” she added quietly, seemingly remembering herself.

  I couldn’t help a laugh. There she is.

  When she raised her chin this time, there was a glare on her face. “What’s funny?”

  “You are.” I closed the gap between us in several long strides, causing her throat to bob and her eyes to widen. “You acting all unsure and nervous. Almost like you’re scared of me.”

  She blinked at me before looking away. Her onyx eyes, wide and pointed at the corners, reminded me of a cat’s. Her mouth was a tightly closed rosebud. I almost groaned when I imagined her lips making a vivid red circle around my cock.

  “Usually you are not so scared of me.”

  “I’m not scared of you…”

  I understood. “You’re scared about what I’m going to do to you.”

  She folded her bottom lip in between her teeth.

  “Don’t be afraid,” I said in my clunky Japanese. “I won’t hurt you. Will never hurt you, understand?” Not unless you ask me to. But I didn’t say that. Not yet.

  She nodded, her shoulders relaxing a little. Her eyes drew to mine. They caught me, drawing me in, tugging me, urging me to lose myself in her. The effect was even more startling than when I was gazing at her photo. She was here. She was real. A beautiful wife of my own. An odd, satisfied feeling warmed my chest.

  I lifted my finger to her cheek to feel her skin. Damn. She was softer than anything I had ever touched. A blush deepened under her pale skin. God, I bet she was this soft everywhere.

  I traced down her neck and to her shoulder, where I flicked off one shoulder strap, then I trailed across her collarbone, enjoying her shivering, before I flicked off the other. My fingers were surprisingly steady, unlike the erratic raging of the beast inside my body. I’d been aching for her for four days, the pressure built up; it felt like my lust had its own heartbeat. This creature inside me wanted to tear her apart. Perhaps if I was younger I’d lose control like that.

  “Turn around.”

>   She obeyed. I caught a whiff of her smell, fresh clean soap, uncluttered by expensive perfumes that women usually wore like a cloud around them. Just a hint of cherry blossoms. Her shampoo, perhaps. I wanted to press my nose into her hair to make sure. I restrained myself. I didn’t want to scare her any more than necessary.

  I brushed her long, straight raven hair—so damn soft—aside to access the opening of her dress. My cock hardened at the sound her zipper made as I drew it down. I let go. Her dress slid down over her hips, obediently to the floor. She was slender and tiny. Something about her made me want to…protect her. To take care of her.

  I tugged down her panties, reveling in the way she shuddered as my fingers trailed down the sides of her thighs. They fell around her heels in a swirl of lace.

  I walked around her and took her all in: slim waist, pale slender legs, her budding breasts, tiny brown nipples tipped with pink. I was filled with the urge to pinch them between my fingers and watch her mouth part. My cock throbbed, straining against my slacks. I haven’t wanted a woman like this in…in a long time.

  My self-control was going to be tested. I knew this for sure.

  Her eyes remained down, her tiny fists at her sides.

  I’d never had a woman remain so still for me.

  The minute a woman wanted to dominate me in bed she lost me. If I wanted to fuck someone with balls, I’d fuck a man. I wanted something soft and…breakable. But I didn’t want her to shatter if I barked too loudly.

  She was fire and silk. Bite and fragile beauty.

  She was…perfect.

  I held her chin, tilting up her face. “You’re a virgin.”

  It wasn’t a question. She answered anyway. “Yes,” she whispered.

  A thrill shot down my spine. I’d never had a virgin.

  Even expensive toys weren’t this exclusive. Take my Bugatti Veyron, two-toned in black and silver. I paid $1.7 million and change for it. There were only three others in America. But there was only one of this exquisite treasure. Nobody else had touched her. Nobody else would have her…except for me.

  She was mine.

  Soon she would be carrying my child.

  My fingers trailed down her neck, to her small, perky breasts. My hands took their fill of her soft, natural flesh, rolling those nipples between my fingers, which hardened into pebbles and caused her to whimper. That sound was delicious.