by Mia Carson
Oh. Oh! My cheeks reddened, and I was grateful Scott’s drink was in my hand. “Thanks,” I muttered. She laughed at me. I wanted to tell her that her perspective probably wasn’t too unique. Scott had probably slept with half the women here. She blew air kisses at me and drifted off into the party. I hurried back to Scott.
“Were you talking to Giuliana?”
I handed him his drink, still blushing. “Yes. She seemed super nice. Told me to let her know if I needed anything.”
“Watch out for her.”
Nasty, creepy fingers of jealousy walked down my spine. Stupid, I told myself. This wasn’t even a real relationship. Playboy Scott Creed had almost definitely banged half the women in this room. What did I care? I was here for the money. And maybe another chance in bed with Scott. But mostly the money.
He walked me around the room and finally deposited me before Percival Hall. The man looked nothing like his daughter, barrel chested and snooty as heck. I imagined him with a pith helmet hunting big game in Africa, loads of servants doing all his dirty work.
We stood in front of what I can only imagine was a self-portrait—the artist depicting herself in shades of purple. The dark triangle of pubic hair stood out in sharp contrast to the pink of her nipples—the only color she’d chosen other than purple.
“Married, eh?” I nodded enthusiastically. “How’d you meet?”
“At a bar,” I offered truthfully.
“Set up by some mutual friends who thought we’d have a lot in common.”
Percival chuckled. “And what do you have in common?”
“Oh, loads of things,” I said. “I love art, just like Scott. I like—”
“Gardening. Hiking. The great outdoors.”
“Madmen,” I filled in, happy to help. Percival looked at me like I was a madwoman and he’d never heard of the show.
“She’s a fascinating conversationalist, this one,” Scott supplied.
“You two will have to come out on our yacht soon.”
It was April, and we lived in New York. I had no interest in shivering on a boat in the harbor.
“We’d love to. Next weekend?” Scott asked. I groaned inwardly.
“Perfect. We’ll meet you at the usual spot.”
“Sounds good, Mr. Hall. I look forward to it.”
We turned away, and he leaned close to me. “Let me do the talking. Especially to him.”
“I’m a great conversationalist. My talents can’t be wasted like that.”
“If he thinks this is a scam, he’ll call off the merger.”
“Why would he think it’s a scam?” I made doe-eyes at him.
Scott gave a frustrated sigh, and I stood up on my toes and nipped at his lip. I could see the fire ignite in his eyes, and he kissed me so hard my teeth hurt.
“Follow me,” he commanded.
I wasn’t about to argue with that tone. He led me to the gallery’s second floor and around the back to one of the two single-occupancy bathrooms. He held the door for me. “After you.”
Jesus, the bathroom was nicer than anyplace I’d ever lived. Well, until now, I guess. The sink was an ever-running fountain that made soothing water noises. Everything looked clean enough to eat off of.
Scott picked me up and sat me on the edge of the fountain sink, then disappeared in the ample folds of my skirt. His fingers found my panties and pushed them to one side before sinking into my wetness.
Oh God, I’d missed his touch. He knew exactly how to stroke me, to flex his knuckle and torment my G-spot. His tongue found my clit as he plunged fingers in and out of me in even, timed, strokes.
Then, oh my goodness, his pinky played around my ass. Wow. He made sure everything was nice and slick and wet before gently entering me, and I saw stars. The trifecta of sensations was way, way too much for me, and I came on his fingers and face, biting the back of my hand so I wouldn’t cry out.
He stood up, hiked my dress out of the way, and undid his pants while I was still struggling to catch my breath. His big cock stood at attention, ready and delicious. He plunged it into me.
I held tightly to him as he thrust into me, panting in his ear, trying to be as quiet as I could. He felt so good in me, like our bodies were a positive and negative that fit together flawlessly. I saw stars as he fucked me on the sink, as he wrapped his arms around me, picking me up and holding me tightly to him, bouncing me as he penetrated me. I clung to him, pressing my face into the soft skin of his neck, smelling his cologne and, underneath it, the masculine smell of his sweat.
Someone knocked on the door.
He paused for a beat, then pounded into me with renewed vigor. I could feel the muscles of his arms tiring, and he set me on the floor. Turning me around, he flipped the long skirts of the dress up over my back. He bent me over and used his foot to spread my legs. Yes, yes, yes, to whatever he wanted to do to my body. He bent over me, hot mouth on my trembling snatch, drinking my juices once more. He kissed and licked my ass, and an excited trepidation washed over me.
With a grunt he plunged back inside me, filling my pussy, and at this angle, he was in deeper than I’d ever felt him. If he hadn’t felt so good it would have hurt. I braced myself against the sink, holding steady as he pounded me. In contrast to his frenzied thrusts, gently, he worked his thumb into my ass.
I went wild for him. I cried out—I couldn’t help it—and I heard someone knock on the door again. I froze.
“It doesn’t matter.” His voice was husky with lust, and I let my legs spread a little more, wanting to accommodate everything he had to give me. The disparity between his gentle thumb and the violence of his cock titillated me. Every nerve ending burned hot for him, cried out for him, needed and wanted everything he had to give me. His strokes grew more calculated, and I knew he was close. I was, too.
“I’m coming,” he panted, and all I could do was nod as I felt his hot seed splashing inside of me. I came, too, crying out with a passionate yelp. The walls of my hot pussy trembled around him, fluttering with bliss. He caught me as my knees threatened to give out.
“Easy, girl.” He talked to me like I was a horse. In that moment I was just happy to be his.
Another knock. “You must be almost finished?” Giuliana. Shit.
“One minute,” Scott panted.
Scott
I washed my hands and face as Mackenzie cleaned herself. We’d done a good job not messing up her hair and makeup, so I was pretty impressed with myself. I regretted washing off the intoxicating scent of her, but it was necessary. She finished fixing herself and stood demurely behind me. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes had a dreamy, satisfied look. I kissed her. I probably shouldn’t have—fucking was one thing, but when we kissed, it touched a different part of me.
Every time she let her tongue meet mine, the touch and taste of her drove me wild. I wondered how long it would take to get hard again and if she’d suck me off.
I banished the thought. I had Giuliana to deal with. Dammit. It wasn’t like she’d never been caught doing something like this. If I’m going to be honest, I’ve both caught her and been caught with her. If nothing else, this should prove to Percival Hall that my marriage was not the sudden sham it seemed but the real deal. He didn’t have to know it was actually a sham with a hell of a lot of chemistry.
“What do we do?”
Her question caught me off-guard. “What do you mean?”
“Someone heard us having sex.”
“It’s fine. Just act casual. We can leave whenever you want.”
Mackenzie went a little cold at that. “This is your thing. I’m here for your benefit. Tonight is all about you.”
I thought I’d just made it all about her, but whatever. I didn’t want to be here anymore. I’d made an appearance, everyone had seen my beautiful, slightly mysterious wife. I was good to go. I didn’t need Giuliana and Marguerite making passes at me all night. When I hit thirty, I vowed a girl had to be old enough to drink before I’d bone her, and I was
pretty sure the artist in residence just had a birthday. The last time I’d seen her, a year or so ago, she’d been all over me. If not for the merger, I’d have been seriously tempted. And if not for my wife, of course.
“When I open the door, do I pretend I wasn’t just having sex?”
“Nah, won’t do any good. Just make sure she knows it was good sex.”
“You’re the boss.” Her voice was low and sexy.
How could I want her again already?
Mackenzie opened the door, and I saw the satisfied smile she effected as she slipped out of the bathroom. She took my hand as I followed her. Giuliana stood across the hall, holding a glass of vodka.
“I’m so sorry,” Mackenzie said. “It’s all yours.”
Giuliana locked eyes with me. If looks could kill, there wouldn’t have been anything left of me to make it back to the limo. She set her drink down and waltzed into the bathroom.
“What’s with her?” Mackenzie asked.
“Must be jealous.” I kissed her neck. We headed back downstairs through knots of people. We found Percival and Anne Hall in front of another nude portrait of their daughter, this one in violent streaks of red. There was no way these two sticks in the mud could have made a kid like Marguerite. There had to be some wicked skeletons in the Halls’ closet.
“How does Friday sound to get out on the Nomisma?” Percival even named his yacht after money.
“Sounds perfect to me. Kenz, does that work for you?”
“I’m up for anything.” She made her voice perkier than usual. She was a natural.
“We’ll meet you at the usual spot?” Percival reiterated. Apparently he was a little tipsy.
“We will be there.”
“How are you finding the art, Mrs. Creed? I’m sorry, I don’t remember your first name.” I was worried she might get upset. Man, Percival could sure be a dick, especially considering I’d just called her by name.
“Your daughter is so talented. I’m Mackenzie, but honestly I could hear Mrs. Creed a million times and never get tired of it.” She brought one hand to her temple.
“Hey, is your headache feeling any better?” I asked with husbandly concern.
She gave me a wan smile. “It’s fine. Please don’t worry about it.”
I turned to Percival. “We should get home. Mackenzie hasn’t been feeling well all day, and I practically had to drag her here.”
She swatted me. “Don’t say that. I was so excited to see the art show and meet Scott’s colleagues.”
“Well, we’re not colleagues yet,” I reminded her.
“False modesty doesn’t suit you, Scott. You know we’re almost in bed together,” Hall said. Everyone laughed an obviously fake, obligatory laugh.
“Email me the details of the yacht trip. I’ve got to get this beautiful lady home.”
Percival kissed her hand. I said goodnight to him and Anne, and we were out in the chilly New York evening. The limo appeared, and I opened the door for her.
“Thank you so much. You’re awesome.” I meant it. Percival seemed to like her, and that was pretty much all that mattered.
“When I have a job to do, I like to do it well.”
“You’re knocking it out of the park.” I groped for something else to say, and she turned away from me to gaze out the tinted window. She was prettiest when she smiled, but in profile I worshipped her. Something about the light catching the tops of her breasts in the blue dress, the line of her nose, her chin, and her cheeks.
I whipped out my phone and texted Ryan.
Mackenzie looked over when the phone pinged as Ryan replied. I thought she’d say something, but she didn’t, and when we got back to the house, she disappeared into her room. I stared at the closed door for a beat, wondering what would happen if I knocked. I imagined her taking off her blue dress. I remembered her sprawled on my bed beside me in Las Vegas, before everything had changed. At best now, we were business partners, and at worst, adversaries.
It was only ten, and I didn’t have to be at the airport the next morning until eleven for my flight to Chicago for a two-day meeting. Ryan met me at a hotel bar a few blocks from my building, and we sat at the bar, partially watching the Islanders play. They were losing.
“How’s your sham marriage going?”
The woman next to Ryan shot them a dirty look.
“Uh, well, shammily, I guess.” I thought of bending her over in the bathroom. Good feelings. Then I thought of the bedroom door closing. Bad feelings. It would have been worse if she’d slammed it. That quiet little click reverberated in my consciousness and depressed me.
“Is Hall buying it?”
I shushed him. Percival didn’t have spies or anything, but I didn’t need Ryan shouting about my subterfuge in a bar. “Seems to be. We’re going out on the Nomisma this weekend.”
“That’s serious business,” Ryan mused. “He must have been convinced. Giuliana was there tonight? You know, the girl you were going to marry before you married your drunk little spy friend?”
The woman gave Ryan another dirty look and extended her glare to me as well. “Shut up, dude.”
“But she was there?”
“Yes. And was not too impressed with me.”
“You just showed up with a wife?”
“No." The woman next to Ryan stood up and moved a few seats down. “I had lunch with her and explained it.”
“How’d she take it?”
“In a coldly furious cloud of vodka fumes.”
Ryan tipped his bar stool up onto two legs. “So, business as usual.”
“Exactly.” I leaned over the bar. “This feels shitty.”
“It should.”
“Thanks.”
“What do you want me to say?”
“I don’t know. What if I actually liked her?”
“I’d say blackmailing her with a sex tape isn’t the way to show your affection.”
“I never blackmailed her with the sex tape.”
“You watched it?”
“I told you I wasn’t going to watch it.”
“So you must have deleted it then?” Ryan smirked devilishly from his reclined position. My pause gave me away. He laughed and said, “You’re so gonna watch it.”
Mackenzie
I made sure to leave for work early the next morning. I knew Scott was headed out of town for a few days, and I didn’t especially want to see him. I also didn’t want to go out on a yacht. I didn’t want to do any of this. Apparently, all I wanted to do was screw Scott or avoid him.
Since Lucas kept my car, I asked one of Scott’s guys to drive me around, which made me feel like a toddler. No dignity there. The driver was totally humorless and didn’t seem at all interested in small talk or being pleasant.
At work, Mr. Fallon thought I was a rockstar. He squeezed my shoulder in a totally awkward, too-familiar way. Susie gave me lots of not-so-subtle thumbs up. She’d only seen the charming side of Scott, not his cold anger. This wasn’t what I wanted at all. I thought about Lucas and wondered if Monica had been a one-time thing like he’d said or if they were an item. Had I made a mistake?
For the first time, I wondered if he would take me back. I went so far as to pull up his number on my phone. The last text from him called me an overreacting bitch. I sighed and put my phone away. What I needed was to join some kind of monastery where all I did was draw cartoons all day. I got upset at my desk and snuck off to the women’s room. I reminded myself I was on the right track. Just a few more weeks of this. Go shiver on some stupid sailboat all weekend and seal Scott’s deal. Distract myself with some wild monkey sex.
Gah, even the thought of that made me uncomfortable and sad.
I hated how much I liked being pinned under him, controlled and manipulated by him. I would literally do anything the man told me to do, inside or outside the bedroom. One for money, and one for the crazy, dirty, wild thrill of his body.
I’d lied to my mother the week before, telling her I was spen
ding some quality time with myself getting over Lucas. It would break her heart if she knew I’d married for money. She’d been upset when Lucas and I moved in together before we got married. What would she think about everything I’d done with Scott? I’d been studiously avoiding my entire family, not even talking to my sisters. I’d left my dad a voicemail for his birthday, thankful he hadn’t answered. When he called back, I let the call go to voicemail.
I couldn’t call the marriage off, though. I needed the money. With all the debt behind me, I could start fresh somewhere and work on my art. Being at the shitty art gallery really put things into perspective. My art was functional, marketable.
I splashed cold water on my face and took a deep breath. I went into Mr. Fallon’s office.
“You get anything good?” Not even a hello. This was how he’d greeted me every time I’d gone to see him since Scott and I got married. I sat down in the guest chair and stared across his desk at him. The chair is a little lower than his so he’s able to look down at whomever sits in it. My boss is a sleaze-ball.
“Not yet. But I’m going on some yacht thing with him and the guys he’s doing the merger with this weekend. I don’t know when I’ll be back. Tuesday maybe?”
Fallon’s face darkened. “Okay, but your job is to make sure the merger doesn’t happen.”
No, no, no. That wasn’t what we agreed on. “Whoa, hold on, my job is to gather whatever intel I can find, and you can get Golden and Moore to make sure the merger doesn’t happen.”
Mr. Fallon has a knack for looking at people like they’re idiots and making them feel absolutely tiny. “You’re going to be out there with Hall and Creed. You can ruin this for him. You need to ruin this for him.”
“I’m legally married to him. If I screw up his merger, he can make my life a living hell.”
“Babydoll.” Mr. Fallon leaned forward on his elbows, looming over me. I made sure to sit up straight. “Don’t forget, I’m in a pretty good spot to make your life hell, too.”
Fallon had always been a little sketchy—okay, a lot sketchy. Lucas wanted me to quit, but we’d needed the money. Fallon had never threatened me before.