Marriage Claws

by Paige Cuccaro

  “Yes, sir,” Joe said with a quick nod before pivoting to his right then hustling out of sight.

  “I know the elevator serves as my front door, but it’s not just mine,” Jack said, smiling. “You’ll have to come out of there eventually so other people in the building can use it.”

  I laughed, feeling stupid, and stepped into the long gallery with a quick glance at the doorway to the left and then to the right, where I figured Joe had gone down the marbled hall.

  Even in the entrance gallery, the place felt enormous. The walls were thirteen or fourteen feet high, the floors white marble and the artwork all classy sculptures and framed paintings. “Right. So this is how the other half lives,” I said.

  “You are the other half now.”

  I gave him a sideways look. “Temporarily.”

  “Then relax and let yourself enjoy it while it lasts,” he said. “C’mon. I’ll give you the grand tour.”

  It was after five, the end of a long business day and Jack looked the part. Dark beard stubble shadowed his jaw. He’d ridden down to the lobby to meet with no suit jacket or tie, sleeves rolled to his elbows, and no socks or shoes. Again.

  “Do you have something against shoes?” I asked following behind him.

  He glanced back, rewarding me with a sexy grin. “Yes, actually. I do. I prefer bare feet. Always have.”

  I liked the beard stubble. I liked the whole tussled hair, tired businessman look he had going. He wore it well. Really well.

  We headed in the direction Joe had gone, but turned left into the nearest room. “This is the living room. And back through there is the media room and library. There’s a wet bar back there as well . . . in case you were interested.”

  I peeked in, noting the pristine white furniture and glass side-tables, accented by green plants flourishing in the corners and paintings in gilded frames spotlighted on the walls. A white baby grand piano sat center stage against the long wall in front of us.

  “Do you play?” I asked.

  “No. It came with the place.” Jack shrugged. “I liked the way it looked in here, so I kept it.”

  There was a door in the far corner of the room and I could just make out the corner of a movie screen. It had to be at least ten feet tall.

  The view of the city from the living room was breathtaking. New York City sprawled out before us through three towering windows.

  “Unbelievable,” I said, then noticed a door on the near wall. “What’s in there?”

  “Dining room,” Jack said. “We don’t use it much. The kitchen has a big center island, and . . . well, c’mon. I’ll just show you.”

  He turned and led the way down the hall in the direction Joe had gone. The passage was incredibly long, with doors on both sides and a dead stop at the end accented by a long mirror that made it seem as though the hallway went on forever.

  Which room did Joe disappear into?

  “There’s a half bath in here,” Jack said gesturing to the first door on the right. “And the kitchen and family room are through here.”

  I followed him through the archway to the left and tried not to gasp out loud. A giant window spilled sunlight into a chef’s dream kitchen that opened to the family room.

  “Yeah, I thought you might like it in here,” Jack said, reading my awe despite my effort to hide it. “Feel free to use whatever you find. I have a chef on staff, but he knows you’re moving in and that you enjoy cooking.”

  I nodded, goofy smile firmly fixed on my face. “Thank you.”

  “The pantry’s there to the left and you can pass through it to the dining room,” Jack said. He turned to show off the other half of the space. “And of course, this is the family room.”

  I tore my eyes from the kitchen to appreciate the plush leather couch and chairs. A maroon Oriental rug warmed the hardwood floor, and a huge oil painting of Roman guards battling fierce wolves hung high on the shorter wall. The wolves seemed to be winning, as blood streamed down the necks of the wide-eyed horses and gashes shown red on the men’s legs and arms.

  “That’s an . . . interesting painting,” I said.

  “Oh. Yeah. My father had it commissioned,” Jack said. “He has odd taste. There’s a flat screen behind it and a remote around here somewhere. The painting slides open down the center. C’mon. I’ll show you where you’ll be sleeping.”

  Jack turned on his heel and left the room heading down the hall. “This is a utility room here,” he said, tapping a knuckle on the door to his right as he passed. “Washer and dryer inside. But I have a woman who comes in twice a week, so whatever you need washed just leave it in the hamper and she’ll take care of it.”

  He tapped again on the next right-hand door. “Emergency exit. Stairs in case of a fire.”

  “What’s in here?” I asked pointing to a door on the left he’d walked by without mention.

  He glanced back. “Staff room. And the next two doors there on the left are guest rooms. There are two more guest rooms down here on the right as well as a full bath and the service elevator.”

  I peered down the short hallway. I hadn’t even noticed it from the gallery. Now I knew where Joe had vanished. “How big is this place?”

  There were two doors left, one on either side of the hall. He stopped at the last door on the left, hand on the knob, thinking. “Six bedrooms, family room, living room, kitchen, dining and media rooms, library, and home office. And then of course the rooms off the master suite.”

  “So it’s stupid big,” I said.

  “Embarrassingly so.”

  “Right?” I laughed as he pushed open the door, happy to have earned another of those sexy grins of his.

  “This is my room. I’m pretty sure Joe put your things in here figuring we’d be sharing,” Jack said striding past long closet doors on his right and a half bathroom on his left.

  “Wow, they skimped on the master bathroom,” I said.

  “No. That’s considered his bath. Her bath is through the dressing room.” He pointed to the wide double doors as he strode further into the room. “There’s a double walk-in closet and a Jacuzzi bathtub. Your room has a big soaker tub, but if you prefer the jets, feel free to use it whenever you like.”

  I peeked through another door on the right to see a set of big cushy chairs, a huge bookshelf, a gleaming mahogany desk, and a fireplace. Jack grabbed my suitcase and bag from his king-size bed and turned to catch me snooping. “It’s a sitting room. I never use it.”

  “Add it to the list,” I said under my breath. According to Jack he didn’t even use half of the beautiful apartment. What a waste. “Not sure why I’m surprised. Your family makes a habit of taking more than they need just because they can.”

  Jack’s jaw flexed, teeth clenching. “Exactly. That’s what this is all about. I want to change things. C’mon. I’ll show you your room.”

  A scowl hardening his face he brushed past me out of his room and across the hall into the neighboring room. I followed several steps behind, stopping just inside the door.

  “This is your room,” Jack said, dropping my suitcase and bag onto the flowery comforter of another king-size the bed. “There’s a full bath through there, a flat screen inside that cabinet and your own thermostat behind the curtain over there.”

  I followed his gestures to the door at the far corner of the room, then the big armoire on the wall next to it and finally to the huge floor-to-ceiling windows across from the foot of the bed. The bedroom was almost as big as my whole apartment. I blinked, nodding.

  “You sure you have everything you need in here?” He fiddled with the zipper on my suitcase, but stopped short of opening it.

  “It’s only for a couple weeks, right?” I said. “I’ve got plenty of blouses and I can switch them out with just a few slacks and skirts.”

  “What about evening gowns, cocktail dresses, things like that?” He slipped his hands into the pockets of his dress slacks.

  “Gowns?” I didn’t even own a dress. I wore s
kirts. I mean, I am a girl. But when you struggle just to pay your electric bill every month, you don’t typically have call for gowns or cocktail dresses in your life.

  Jack scrubbed a hand over his mouth and nose, scratching the stubble on his neck for a moment. Not like it was itchy, but more like a mild show of frustration. He sighed and flashed me a forced smile. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll figure something out when the time comes.”

  “Right. I’ll make a ball gown out of the drapes,” I snarked. “Wait. Let me call my forest friends to help cut and measure.”

  “Yeah, okay. Dial it back a little,” he said, chuckling. “You’re not exactly Cinder—.” He stopped suddenly staring at the bedroom door, like he was listening to something. “Damn it.”

  “What?”

  “I should’ve mentioned it earlier,” he said. “I don’t live alone. I, uh, have a roommate. I hope it won’t be a problem for you.”

  I felt my brows go up. “Really?” Male or female? I didn’t want to ask and seem like a prude.

  Jack lowered his head. “And you’re about to meet him. I’m sorry. I have no excuse for him. He’s obnoxious, bold, blunt and . . . my best friend.” Then he turned and said, “In here, Lenny. I have someone I want you to meet.”

  I looked around just to be sure we were alone. “Who are you talking to?”

  A half beat later a familiar male voice spoke from behind me. “Naw, dude, seriously?”

  I spun.

  “Hi, Kate,” he said.

  “Lenny? You’re Jack Pensione’s roommate?”

  “You two know each other?” Jack asked.

  “He’s dating my brother,” I said to Jack, then looked back to the lanky man. “He’s been to my apartment, sat on my couch, watched my TV, even eaten my food and never once mentioned that he lived with Jack Pensione—the man who would’ve allowed my business to be ruined.”

  “Now wait a minute,” Jack said.

  “Technically, yeah,” Lenny answered me with a laid-back California smile, bobbing his head. “Dude, I can totally explain.”

  “Good. Because I’d like to hear it, too,” Jack said. “You’ve been dating her brother?”

  I spun on Jack, my big-sister protective urges springing to the surface. “You have a problem with men dating each other?”

  Jack flinched, blinking at me. “What? No. I just meant—”

  “Naw, little queen, chill. Jack doesn’t have a problem with me bein’ gay,” Lenny said. “He’s got a problem with me dating your brother.”

  I glared at Jack. “What’s wrong with my brother?”

  “Nothing, except introducing you to our family will be a delicate operation. Lenny putting your brother into the mix will make things . . . complicated,” Jack said.

  “Wait. You and Lenny are related?”

  “I know, right?” Lenny said, with another lazy chuckle. “Cray coincidence huh? Like freaky Brady Bunch scenario.”

  “You’re not helping, Lenny. Yes,” Jack said to me. “Sort of. Lenny is a member of my family. We . . . adopted him.”

  “Oh,” I said. “I’m sorry. I never heard about you having an adopted brother.”

  “Haven’t been out here long,” Lenny said. “My pack banished me when I told’em I was queer. Jack’s family took me in.”

  I straightened. “Your pack?”

  Lenny’s dark eyes widened and he glanced at Jack. “Oh, snap. My bad. I mean family. Yeah. They kicked me to the curb.”

  I tried to wrap my brain around why he’d called his family a pack instead of family, but figured it would be rude to press. “Well that’s pretty great of Jack and his family. But . . . I mean, you are a grown man. Even though it’s horrible that your family turned their backs on you, it’s not like you’re an abandoned child.”

  “Family is very important to us,” Jack said. “Even into adulthood. We couldn’t abide Lenny’s situation without intervening. Let’s just say he longed for family, and we could provide it.”

  My chest tightened. In a million years I never would’ve guessed Jack was the type of man who’d open his home to a stranger, a stranger like Lenny, when he needed it most. I swallowed the knot of contradiction between what I thought I knew and what I was just discovering about my soon to be husband.

  I looked back to Lenny. “Have you told George? Does he know who you are? Who you call family?”

  Lenny chewed his bottom lip. “Not exactly. No. But I gotta plan. Gonna tell him everything. It’s gonna be epic.”

  “You better, because I’m going to tell him first thing tomorrow,” I said. “George has been through a lot in his life. If I can keep him from being hurt ever again, I will. I don’t care what plans or business agreements it screws up.”

  Jack sucked a breath through his nose, standing straighter. His green eyes flicked to his roommate. “You heard my bride. She wants her brother to know the truth. The whole truth. Go. Take care of it.”

  “Oh. Right. Gotcha.” Lenny’s smile flashed bright and he gave Jack a sly wink. “I’m off. You know, you two make an awesome couple. I wouldn’t have pegged her as your type in a million years, but, yeah. It works.”

  “Why not?” I asked. I’d heard it enough times now. I wanted a straight answer.

  “Aww, no. No offense, little queen, I just meant most of the babes Jack goes for are all shiny and glitzy.” The skinny surfer boy ran his lazy gaze over my body and shrugged. “You’re too . . . inconspicuous. My boy Jack usually likes his women larger than life—goddesses on earth. The type of chick who stands out in a crowd of beautiful women.”

  I could stand out in a crowd of tall, model-thin beauties . . . not in the way he meant, but still.

  “That’s not true,” Jack said.

  I wasn’t thrilled to admit it, but . . . “Yes it is,” I said. “I’m nothing like the women you’re attracted to. No one’s going to believe we’re lovers, let alone in love.”

  Jack raked a hand through his dark waves. He laughed under his breath, shaking his head. “You don’t have a clue what you’re talking about. If you knew why I date the women I do . . . Never mind.”

  “Not like she’s another species,” Lenny said. “Take her shopping. Buy her some pricey clothes, polish her up some. She’s got the looks.”

  Jack looked me over and gave a nod. “I’ll have Stella send over a few gowns. But other than that, she’s fine the way she is.”

  “C’mon, dude,” Lenny said. “Treat the lady to a day at the spa, or somethin’. It’s the least you could do, don’t ya think? A little trim, a little pumice, a long soak . . . she’ll be a new woman.”

  Jack’s gaze shifted back to me, eyes narrowing. “If it’s something you want.”

  “Sure.” I mean, if he was offering.

  “I’ll make a reservation,” Jack said heading for the door. “If you’re hungry, feel free to raid the kitchen.”

  I folded my arms across my belly. “No. Thank you. I’m good.”

  “You have a TV in here but of course, you can use any of the others. I’ve got a large collection of movies and books.”

  My interest perked. “Maybe later. But since I’m not closing in a month anymore I’ve got some calls I should make and some paperwork to do on my laptop.”

  “Oh. Yes. Of course,” he said, his expression flickering between a frown and a smile. “Well, then if I don’t see you . . . good night.”

  “Night.”

  “Jack, I got another idea that might make this whole charade more believable,” Lenny said, slipping out into the hall.

  “We’ll discuss it in my office,” Jack said pulling the door closed. He stopped and looked back to me. “I mean it, Kate. I want you to make yourself at home. I’ll have my assistant, Genève, bring you tomorrow’s schedule first thing in the morning.”

  “Great.”

  He gave me another smile, but it was just one of his practiced grins and it left me cold. He pulled the door closed.

  I’ll have a schedule? Being Mrs. Jack Pe
nsione was sounding more like a job by the second. That should’ve been a good thing. Right? So why did I suddenly feel so disappointed?

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  There aren’t enough hours in the day.

  Seriously.

  I could’ve used another hour-long massage and at least another half hour in the sauna. The manicure was relaxing, the pedicure was ah-maze-balls, and I flat out fell asleep during the facial treatments. But Jack had said the car would be back around to pick me up from the spa for lunch and it was about that time.

  “What do you think?” my hair stylist, Colette, said, then whooshed the black protective cape off my shoulders. She spun me around to face the mirror and I stared for a solid three count before I realized who I was looking at.

  “Holy shit. What’d you do to my face?” I reached up and touched my hair, checking that the thick deep-coppery strands were mine.

  “We put makeup on it,” Colette said beaming behind me. She held a smaller mirror so I could see the back of my head. I don’t normally worry about the back of my head, but it looked good.

  “My hair’s so thick. I mean, it normally just clings to my head and the color’s . . . I don’t know, brighter.”

  Colette nodded, smile growing wider by the second. “Yeah. Your natural color is gorgeous. But you needed a few vitamin and oil treatments, and then I just enhanced the color a little. I trimmed the split ends and added some layers to make your hair seem fuller and then blow-dried and styled it. That’s it. The difference is really shocking, right?”

  My gaze flicked to hers in the mirror. “Yeah. I don’t know if I’d call it shocking, but definitely noticeable.” I mean, it’s not like I was hideous before.

  “Noticeable for sure,” she said practically giddy. “I can’t believe this woman was underneath all that . . . I don’t know, grime.”

  “Grime? Really?” I shower every day. Honest. Okay, I don’t always blow-dry my hair and I use whatever shampoo is cheapest and as far as makeup . . . Well, as someone once said, it’s still just me, but in color. What’s the point?

  “No. I don’t mean it in a bad way.”