Marriage Claws

by Paige Cuccaro

  CHAPTER SIX

  “Miss . . . Miss . . . Hey lady, where you goin’?”

  I turned halfway to the elevator doors finally realizing the guy in the ugly black suit and weird captain’s hat was a doorman and not just some dude with bad fashion sense. Shit. This hangover was going to kill me. I couldn’t think past the bass drum booming every few seconds in my head.

  “You can’t just go upstairs wit out checkin’ in,” he said, letting his New York accent color his words for a minute. “Dis ain’t no fleabag motel.”

  He’d been on the phone when I came in, otherwise I probably wouldn’t even have gotten in the front door. New York doormen take their job seriously. I’d never been so close to being literally thrown to the curb.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, hands up in surrender. “I’m so sorry. Could you talk just a little softer though? My head’s about to explode.”

  “Get yur ass back here.” He pointed to the floor next to his waist-high desk. It was actually more of a podium.

  Whatever. I did as he ordered. “I’m here to see Jack Pensione.”

  “Too bad,” the doorman said. “You ain’t on the list for Mr. Pensione. He ain’t expecting you, and I ain’t bothering him to ask. Now get outta here.”

  “You didn’t even look at the list,” I said, knowing full well if there was a list, I wasn’t on it. I hadn’t actually called Jack. I figured if he was going to make me swallow my pride and throw away my special day—you can only have a wedding day once, after that it’s your second marriage no matter how you looked at it—I was going to do it in person where he could see what it cost me. Besides, there were details to be worked out in his insane plan and I didn’t want to risk any misunderstandings over the phone.

  “Don’t need to check it,” he said. “You ain’t on it. Pensione isn’t expecting anyone today. Now get.”

  I dug the little envelope Jack’s lawyer had given me out of my pocket and showed him. “Look. He told me to call him. His number and address are on the card. Jack knows me. He’s expecting to hear from me.”

  The doorman shrugged, gloved hands clasped in front of him. “So call him. If he wants to see ya, he can leave your name wit me. Otherwise you ain’t goin’ nowheres near that elevator.”

  I sighed and spun on my heel, stomping over to the far corner of the marbled entrance. I dialed the number on Jack’s card and waited.

  “Hello?” I recognized his voice instantly, and a quick thrill fluttered down my chest and rolled around in my belly.

  “Hi. This is—”

  “Kate?”

  “Yeah. How’d you—”

  “Tell me you changed your mind,” he said.

  “Okay, but first, can you tell your doorman to let me come up?”

  “You’re in my building?”

  “Yes. I’m in the lobby, but the palace guard here won’t let me anywhere near the elevator.” I waited for him to answer, tell me his apartment number, apologize for his rude doorman, something. But there was nothing. He didn’t say anything. “Hello?”

  I checked my phone. “He hung up.”

  I looked over my shoulder to see the doorman shrug. “Don’t take it too hard, doll-face. You ain’t the first pretty girl who’s come around here cryin’ after Mr. Pensione. I’ve turned more than any man’s fair share away for him.”

  “Crying? No.” I scoffed, a little more adamantly than necessary. “No. I’m not—I mean, we’re not—pfftt . . . Seriously. I hardly know him.”

  “Don’t think most of them really do,” he said.

  “No. I mean that he’s only come into my diner a few times for lunch.”

  “Yeah, that Mr. Pensione’s a smooth one,” he said, then winked. “Moves fast. Knows just how to make the ladies go weak in the knees.”

  “Trust me. My knees are just fine.”

  The doorman nodded, folding his arms across his chest. “Yep. They always say they’re different. Yakkin’ that I better let them go up. They got somethin’ special with Mr. Pensione and when they get married I’m gonna be sorry how I treated them, blah, blah, blah . . .”

  “You’ve got it all wrong,” I said. “I’m nothing like those women.”

  He narrowed an eye at me, looking sideways. “Come to think of it, you’re not his normal flavor.”

  “What? I mean, right, but . . . What?” Was he saying I wasn’t as tall, as thin, as pretty? Not that I cared . . . much.

  “Maybe he just wanted to see what he was missin’,” he said, ignoring my confusion. “Truth is, most of them are lucky if he remembers their name. I know I have a hard time keepin’ them straight.”

  I opened my mouth to argue, but then snapped it shut—rethinking. “So this is a thing he does? He just refuses to see them, and leaves them standing down here?”

  He chuckled. “It ain’t like he tells them to come. He takes them out. Shows them a good time and they just can’t get enough. They pop up here thinkin’ a marriage proposal is a sure thing. They just can’t take the hint, y’know what I mean?”

  “No, actually, I don’t.” I crossed the lobby to him. “Exactly how many women has Jack hinted to?”

  “Oh.” His cheeks reddened and he looked away, suddenly rethinking his candor. He moved behind his podium, shaking his head, rearranging his pen and pad. “No. No. It’s not my place to discuss the private matters of our tenants.”

  “Really?” I stared at the guy, but I could tell he wasn’t going to budge.

  “Kate.”

  “Jack.” I turned to see him jogging toward me. The elevator doors were closed. He couldn’t have been on it. “Did you take the stairs?”

  “Yeah. It was faster.” He stopped in front of me. Dear Lord, the man did wonders for gray sweats and a white ribbed tank top. I seriously could not look away from the muscles rounding his shoulders and swelling his biceps. His tank clung to his torso, molding over his pecs and defining his narrow waist. Dear Lord . . .

  He noticed me staring and looked down at himself and then back to me, wiggling his toes. The man was totally barefoot. “Sorry. I was working out.”

  A fine sheen of perspiration glistened on his neck and chest, and things low inside me warmed. I shook my head and forced a hard swallow. “No. It’s fine. What floor do you live on?”

  “Penthouse.” He tossed his head towards the far corner of the lobby. “Let’s talk over here.”

  He’d run down from the penthouse, seventy stories, and that was faster than the elevator? Was he half gazelle? What kind of human can move that fast?

  I followed him to the set of wingback upholstered chairs in the corner of the lobby next to the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the street. I sat when he did.

  He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, and that strange, oddly intoxicating, woodsy scent of his, pine trees and fresh rain, enveloped us. I closed my eyes for a second, dialing back my body’s quick, liquid hot response. Get a grip. This is business.

  “You changed your mind,” he said.

  “Yeah. Does your offer still stand?”

  “Yes, and no,” he said. “If my family accepts you then we’ve got a deal.”

  I blinked, brain stumbling. “I’m sorry, what’s that?”

  “I know. I should’ve mentioned it the other day, but it won’t be a problem.”

  “Your family has to approve of me?” I asked. “What if they don’t?”

  “I’ll have to find someone else,” he said, as though it should be obvious.

  “Right.” This really was just business for him. I mean, that was a good thing . . . I guess.

  “Like I said. It won’t be a problem,” he said. “It’s more of a formality. If I tell them you’re the one I’ve chosen, and that we’re . . .”

  “In love?”

  “Exactly.”

  Was it really that hard for him to say?

  “They almost have to accept you.”

  “Almost?”

  He rolled a shoulder. “There’s always a chance.
Don’t worry about it. They’ll love you. But just to make sure there’s no doubt, you’ll need to move in.”

  “Move in where?”

  “Here,” he said. “With me.”

  “Living with you before we’re married will make your family like me more?” I asked.

  “It will make my family believe we’re serious,” he said.

  “Can’t we just tell them I’m living here?” My breath shook on an exhale. I did not what to move into the Fort Knox of apartment buildings. And I couldn’t even think about living in close quarters with the sexy playboy mogul. In my head this was a business arrangement, but clearly my body hadn’t gotten the memo.

  Muscles flexed and warmed between my thighs and I shifted in my seat in hopes of squashing the spontaneous, primal reaction to him that had been building since he jogged across the lobby. It didn’t help. I swallowed the dry stickiness in my mouth, and tried to wipe the hand sweat on my slacks without being obvious.

  Jack Pensione was like the sun. A quick glimpse, a sideways glance, a protective study through a pinhole in a cardboard tube was one thing. But twenty-four-seven exposure? A girl could go blind, fry her brain, pull a muscle trying to look away. It just wasn’t safe, or sane.

  Besides, I had a business to save and people counting on me. I had to stay focused. Torturing myself all day and night by pretending to be the kind of woman a guy like Jack Pensione would marry wouldn’t help. It would be the opposite of help. If I let down my guard for even a second, a man like Jack had the potential to derail my entire world.

  “No. I’m sorry. You’ll have to actually move in. They’ll know. Trust me,” he said. “My family has to believe this is the real thing. No one can know differently. No one can know about our agreement.”

  “Except my brother,” I said.

  He shook his head. “Can’t risk it.”

  “I have to tell George. Besides, he knows me too well. I’ll never fool him.” I wasn’t exaggerating. I’d practically raised George. Sometimes it was like he knew me better than I knew myself. As a kid, he’d seen through the whole Easter Bunny and Santa thing in a heartbeat. I just couldn’t lie to him. If I tried to tell him this thing with Jack was real love, he’d know just by looking at me I was hiding something.

  Jack leaned back in his chair. “Fine. Your brother. But that’s it.”

  “Deal,” I said.

  “And I need you to be available to me at all times.”

  My brows went up, my belly suddenly tight. “Available in what way?”

  “I get a lot of these impromptu social invitations where one might typically bring a spouse or fiancée,” he said. “You’ll have to be available to attend. Which means less time at the restaurant.”

  “I’ll let George know he has to fill in a little more.”

  “Good. We’ll need to be seen out together, too. Photographed being . . . affectionate,” he said. “Are you prepared to see yourself on supermarket tabloids and newspaper stands?”

  “Is anyone ever prepared for that?”

  “Good point.” His smile softened and my breath hitched. Stupid lungs. “I’ll try to deflect some of the attention when I can. But you’ll be asked questions. Sometimes rude questions about private things. You can answer or not. It’s up to you. But we should go over our story. Make sure we’re on the same page.”

  I nodded.

  He leaned forward again, sending another cloud of sweet woodsy aroma my way. I took a deep breath, confident he had no idea I was smelling him. That’s not weird.

  “We’ll need to appear like a couple,” he said. “Like a couple in love. Physically . . . in love.”

  My stomach fluttered again. It was suddenly hard to breathe. “I get it. We’ll need to kiss and hold hands . . .”

  “Exactly,” he said. “You’ll be okay with that? Responsive?”

  “You mean will I slap you or kiss you back?”

  He laughed. “Basically.”

  “I understand that people have to believe we’re the real deal. I can handle it,” I said. “Provided it ends at the elevator.”

  He sat straighter. “I’m sorry?”

  This time I leaned in. “No sex. Just in case you think this deal comes with hidden perks. It doesn’t.”

  He shook his head and his mouth opened as though a denial was on the tip of his tongue. But then his shoulders slouched a little and the start of a smile turned up the corner of his mouth. “If you say so.”

  “And no dating.”

  He balked at that. “Trust me. I know how to get a woman in and out of my apartment without anyone knowing. I’ve had years of practice.”

  I slumped back in my chair, wishing I could put more distance between me and that annoyingly addictive cologne of his. “I’m sure you have. But for the duration of our arrangement I want you to put a hold on your . . . practice. If you screw up and get caught, I’m the one who looks like a fool. Not that I don’t know what that’s like, but I’d rather not experience it on a global scale.”

  He thought about it for a half second then nodded. “Agreed. But that goes for you too. For the duration, no other men.”

  Oh, the imposition! How will I hold off the horde of men breaking down my door for a chance to date me? Not. I shrugged. “Agreed. And when it’s done, you sign over The Sweet Spot’s space to me.”

  “I already have the papers drawn up, ready to sign.” He said.

  “Just for the record, how long will all of this take?”

  Jack waved the question away. “Just a week, maybe two—tops. Once my family gives the okay, we’ll marry to make it official and then file for divorce.”

  “A divorce could take months to finalize,” I said.

  “Yes, but we can separate almost immediately.”

  “And the paperwork on my space?” I asked.

  “I’ll make it my first order of business once I’m alpha.”

  “You mean CEO,” I said. What was with all the wolf references with him?

  “Right.” A blush colored his cheeks, though I wasn’t sure why, and he looked away.

  “How soon after we marry will that happen?” I asked, trying to nail down the length of my self-imposed torture. Sheesh, the lengths I’ll go to protect the people I care about.

  “A few days,” he said, but he didn’t sound at all confident.

  “Only a few days?” I asked, double-checking.

  He nodded. “Tops,” he said, sounding surer this time.

  “Okay, so that’s it.” I sighed and pushed to my feet. “I’ll swing by the restaurant and give everyone the good news then go home and grab some things. See you back here tomorrow.”

  “Wait. There’s one more detail to take care of.” He stood and dug into the front pocket of his sweats. The move tugged at the waistband, lowering it enough to flash coppery tanned skin and a sexy hipbone. He pulled out a small box, opened it and plucked out the ring. “Give me your hand. No. Your left hand.”

  Duh . . . My heart hammered in my chest the sound so loud it set off a ringing in my ears. I exhaled long and slow, then switched my shaky right hand for the left, fingers splayed.

  “Kate Affetto, will you marry me?” He asked, slipping a diamond the size of a pea, in a white gold setting onto my finger.

  “Um, yeah. Sure.” Classy.

  “This is going to work, Kate,” he said in a soft voice, lifting my chin with the crook of his finger. “But only if we really sell it.”

  His gaze dropped to my lips and my stomach clenched, my breath suddenly frozen in my chest. I could feel his kiss coming in every part of my body, see it in the softening of his expression. He leaned close, his strange delicious scent swirling around me. His nearness pressed in on me, my body perfectly aware of his without even touching. And then his lips met mine, the heat of his kiss penetrating through me.

  My thoughts spun, heart beating like a thing gone mad. I liked it, liked the soft gentle tug of his kiss, the nearness of him, the touch of him. I liked it too much. And then
it was over.

  His bright green eyes met mine then flicked across the street through the front window and back again. His smile cranked up a notch. “That should do for a start.”

  I followed his glance and noticed the three men with high-powered cameras pointed our way.

  “Right,” I said, plastering a smile across my stupid face to match his. This was such a bad idea.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “Thanks for the help, Joe,” Jack said to the doorman as the elevator doors slid closed. “Have I introduced you to my fiancée? This is Kate Affetto. Obviously, she’ll be living with me. So you’ll see a lot of her around the building.”

  Joe the doorman looked over his shoulder at me, my suitcase and gym duffle in each of his hands. He was the same forty-something, dark-haired doorman from yesterday, dressed in his ill-fitting doorman’s suit and captain-style hat. He smiled. “Miss Affetto. It’s a pleasure to have you in the building.”

  I resisted the urge to taunt him with a raspberry and a sing-song nanner-nanner. Instead I smiled maturely and said, “Thanks, Joe.” I looked at Jack. “Joe and I actually met yesterday. He was . . . entertaining company while I waited for you to come down.”

  It wouldn’t be fair to bust the guy for gossiping about Jack and the women he dated. He hadn’t said anything too damning, and underneath I knew he’d only wanted to protect Jack.

  Joe shrugged, his cheeks blazing red. “I figured Mr. Pensione would settle down eventually. Should’ve known you were the one. You’ve got a lot more layers to you than the others. More than just a pretty face.” He glanced at Jack and then back to me. “That’s important. Y’know what I mean, Mr. Pensione? A man needs a woman who challenges him, keeps him thinking with his head and not just his . . . well, you know. Ya done good, sir.”

  Jack slapped him on the shoulder and squeezed, his smile wide and happy. “Thanks, Joe. I’m glad you approve.”

  The copper doors slid open and Jack stepped out. I stared at the wall across the narrow room in front of us, the huge mirror above a polished oak table reflecting the open elevator and me standing like a petrified round-eyed deer inside.

  Doorman Joe followed behind Jack. “Just put the bags in the bedroom, Joe. Thanks.”