by Amanda Rose
“We are aware of how unconventional this may seem and are willing to compensate you with a generous sum of five hundred thousand dollars and the opportunity to be the exclusive event planner for all Northington Holiday Industry events.”
“Why?” I ask, because let's be honest here, this doesn't make any sense.
“That information is irrelevant to this negotiation.” The shock of the situation must finally be wearing off because I grow a backbone for the first time since I saw Gabriel outside the building.
I make my demands.
“The hell it is. Firstly, I want a million, not five hundred thousand. Secondly, I want to know why you or you even need a fake fiancée.” I point first at Gabriel then at Whittaker. “There have got to be a million girls out there that would jump at the opportunity to be the real thing. Thirdly, if I do this, absolutely no physical contact; I'm not a whore.” I feel pretty good about my requests, but Gabriel laughs at me like I'm a fool. There is no humor in the sound.
“No physical contact? That's preposterous. Not a single person at that party will believe you are in love if you refuse to kiss us. I don't understand what the big deal is anyway … when you so clearly want to fuck me.”
The look on his face is a challenge.
I stand up to storm out, but I don't want to give the silver-eyed prick the satisfaction. I grab the glass of Scotch off the coffee table in front of me and tilt it back. I down the entire cup in one gulp. Oh my god, that's strong. I glance back at Whit, watching our exchange with amusement. God, he's gorgeous. Whittaker Northington truly is the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome.
Before I can reconsider, I straddle his lap and press my lips to his.
His reaction is instantaneous. Whit kisses me back … and it is phenomenal. He takes control with a single masterful caress of his tongue on mine. One arm slides around my waist, pulling me tight against his chest; my back arches in response. The tender flesh of my breasts press against the firmness of his muscular chest. Only a thin layer of fabric separates the sculpted perfection of his body from mine. In this moment, I want nothing more than to feel the scorching heat of his skin on my own. His other hand slides sensually along my exposed thigh, under my dress to the soft flesh of my ass. Thank god I'm wearing one of my nice pairs of lace panties. I let out an involuntary groan deep in my throat. The sound seems to spur him on. He deepens the kiss; the restraint he has seems to be slipping, becoming more frenzied. When he does, I go completely pliant, wrapped in the muscular impeccability of his arms. And I can feel the proof of his arousal, hard beneath the expensive fabric of his tailored slacks.
Whit kisses with a level of expertise few men could ever hope to achieve. When it finally ends, I'm left wanting more—needing more. The look Whit gives me through half-lidded eyes is possessive and male. He doesn't seem bothered in the least by the faint smear of my red lipstick on his mouth. I can't believe I just did that. Suddenly I feel self-conscious of my swollen lips, the thin sheen of perspiration on my skin, the wetness between my thighs.
I quickly stand up, removing myself from his lap.
I've got to get out of here. But then, that kiss was out of this world. Maybe I should at least consider …
“Well, that was quite the demonstration. I guess all that resistance was just for show. Not that I'm surprised. It was pretty obvious that you had every intention of falling into bed with either of us, given we showed you even the slightest interest.” Gabriel's silken voice and hurtful words startle me from my thoughts. I had been so focused on Whit and that sensational kiss I'd forgotten the reason I had done it in the first place. I'd wanted to piss him off. Looks like I succeeded. The cruel prince is dripping with jealousy, but I'm too upset and offended to enjoy my small victory.
“Fuck you,” I say, walking to the door. Tears threaten to come out, but I hold them back. I won't give that jerk the satisfaction.
“Looking forward to it,” he replies, just as I reach the door. I see Whit is no longer sitting down and the look he's throwing at Gabriel is cold hell. I sure as fuck hope he gets chewed out after I leave.
“I'm going to say this to you Whittaker since you are so clearly his boss. The answer is no. There is no amount of money that can make me pretend to be engaged to a smug, patronizing narcissist like him.” My words are addressed to Whit, but my eyes, they never leave Gabriel's face. I open the door to go, but before I do, I leave them with one last thought. “Your kiss though … it took my breath away.”
CHAPTER TWO
“Fake fiancée? Seems like a pretty sweet gig to me,” my sister, Lucia, says.
We're sitting in my our cozy little kitchen, icing freshly baked sugar cookies. Just smelling them puts me in the Christmas spirit. It's A Wonderful Life can be faintly heard playing on the TV in the next room. I'm feeling better already; I'm sure the champagne and moral support are partially responsible.
After I walked out of that office, I stopped at the store to pick up a few bottles of cheap champagne and baking supplies and headed straight home. About halfway through telling my story to Lucia, I realized I was still wearing the ring. I thought about taking it off, but it's probably worth a million dollars and I don't want it to get lost.
“How much did you say they offered to pay you again?” she asks, but I know she heard me.
“Half of a million dollars,” I say with a sigh. “And Whittaker, the silent one with the dark eyes and the perfect dusting of stubble, was the best kisser ever.” Just thinking about it makes my heart race. “Ugh, I can't believe I practically dry humped a stranger … sober.” I run my left hand over my face.
“Maybe you should consider taking the job? You could really use the money.” Her voice is sympathetic.
“No. I know I need the money, but you don't understand. Gabriel, the one with the silver eyes and glasses, was literally the biggest asshole I have ever met in my entire life.” I know she's only trying to help, but I really don't want to talk about money or him right now.
“They said they had three more brothers, right? I'm sure they're all fat and old. I bet those two were sent to trick you into a contract,” she says, changing the subject slightly, as if she can sense the intensity of my feelings toward the two Northington assholes.
“Ugly or not, I have no idea why they'd even bother? There are thousands of much prettier girls out there who would love to date a billionaire or two … or five. Even ones that are as gross and old as Donald Trump,” I say.
“And they're all adopted, right?” Lucia adds, washing the icing from her hands and laying out raw gingerbread men on a cookie sheet. “Like Bishop Northington, the CEO, never had any biological children, right?”
I shrug; I feel like I've read something like that before, but it doesn't matter. Adopted or not, they were still both one hundred percent jerks.
The doorbell rings, putting a momentary pause on our conversation; my sister starts to get up.
“I've got it; you paid last time.” In fact, she paid for the pizza the last four times in a row. My bank account is almost empty, but I can't let her pay again. Besides, I'm living in her condo because I can't afford rent. Maybe she's right? I should swallow my pride and take the money, if only to help her out. She's the only family I have left, after all …
I shake my head to clear it—those are tomorrow-me problems. Tonight, I splurge, and in the morning I'll figure it out.
I grab my wallet from my purse and open the door.
“How much do—” I just stop talking.
Fervent desire rushes through my body. The man in front of me might be wearing an impeccably tailored suit, but he is all bad boy. I bet there're tattoos hidden under that crisp white button up. He puts his forearm up and leans against the doorjamb, giving me a big cocky grin. Warm caramel-brown eyes, half-lidded and sultry, just ooze flirtation. He smells sweet, like vanilla and brown sugar, but with an undertone of something undeniably male.
“You're not the pizza boy.” The words just pop out of my mouth.
The bad boy laughs, and the sound is pure sex and flirtation, like the laugh itself is sexual innuendo. The pizza boy … I can't believe I just said that.
“No, I'm not, but I could be if you want,” he says, leaning towards me. His honey and chocolate eyes look me up and down approvingly. He's one of them, one of those Northington assholes. I'm not sure what exactly gives him away. Maybe it's the really expensive suit? But no, it's probably the aura of wealth that surrounds him. His eyes flick to the ring, but only momentarily. The movement is so small, it would be easy to miss. It's enough to confirm my thoughts.
“Why are you here?” I say breathlessly, like I've just stopped sprinting—or fucking.
“Isn't it obvious? I'm here for you,” he says quirking his mouth to one side. He runs his hands through a thick wave of chestnut hair. It's buzzed short on the sides and longer on top. I can't seem to stop myself from staring at him, but if I stand here too long, Lucia’s going to get curious. If she sees this guy, she'll invite him in—I can guarantee it. But I'm still reeling from this morning's meeting. I don't think I can handle another extended encounter with the Northington brothers.
“I already told your asshole of a brother no.” I try to close the door in his face. Viper fast, his palm comes up and he stops the door. This man may seem to be nothing but charm and flirtation, but it's not true; this guy, he's just as dangerous as his brothers. Maybe even more so. He wields the most insidious of weapons: sex.
“Please just give me a chance to convince you. I swear my tactics …” His voice drops and he takes a step towards me. I take several back until I'm pressed against the wall. He puts his hands on either side of my head, pinning me in. The man is so tall, I have to crane my neck back to see his face. My heart is pounding, the sexual tension between us ramping up unbelievably fast.
I already know what's coming, but I can't bring myself to stop him. He lowers his face towards mine until his mouth hovers a fraction of an inch above my lips.
“… are a whole fuck of a lot sweeter than Gabe's.” He lets the word fuck snap off the end of his tongue with a hard, sharp K. The velvet masculinity of his voice travels across my skin in the most enticing of ways. The sensitive spot between my thighs pulses in response.
He takes my face in his hands, and as soon as he touches me, it's like a dam breaks.
Lust overcomes rationality; my body quivers with need; our mouths crash together.
He runs his hands along my sides. Releasing my mouth, he works his way down the length of my exposed neck, and I gasp in response. I have never been seduced with such skill. Lost in the heat of his passionate kisses, a small moan of pleasure escapes my lips.
“Spending time with us … it doesn't have to be all bad,” he says, hot breath teasing my ear and stirring loose tendrils of blonde against my neck. Goose bumps break out all over my body. His words try to pull me back to reality, but he seals his lips over mine again. This kiss is even greedier and more frantic than the last one.
“OMG, Natalie.” My sister's shocked voice cuts through the fog of lust. I shove the sexy stranger back, wiping at my swollen lips like somehow that's going to wipe away the act itself.
“It's not … this is uh … my fiancé?” I stutter while I try to think of how to explain what exactly just happened.
“Whittaker?” she asks.
Oh.
I told her all about Tall, Dark, and Handsome … about that glorious kiss. I can see why that would be her first thought. I doubt either of us believed that there would be another brother who was just as sexy as Whittaker.
I shake my head no.
Her eyes get huge, looking between the two of us.
“Hudson, actually, but I'm flattered you mistook me for my lovely brother.” He offers her his hand, a charming smile plastered on his face. “I just stopped by to ask your beautiful sister if she would take a romantic drive with me, and it seems passion got the best of us.” His voice is still flirty. I might be embarrassed by what happened, but he doesn't seem to be fazed in the least. Before I can jump in, and use Lucia as an excuse to say no, my sister speaks up.
“Perfect timing! I was just about to head to my boyfriend's house. It was lovely to meet you, Hudson.” She shakes his hand and gives him an exaggerated smile, grabbing her coat and purse off the hook by the door.
“The pleasure was all mine,” he says with a smirk, touching his fingers lightly to his chest. “And thank you for letting me borrow your sister.”
“Borrow me?” I ask, putting an indignant hand on my hip.
“I'm staying the night, so don't wait up for me,” Lucia adds, giving me a big, obvious wink that I'm sure Hudson can see. Thankfully, he pretends not to notice. “See you lovebirds later. Call me in the morning.” She grins, tosses some blonde waves over her shoulder, and heads out the door … leaving me alone with Hudson.
I swear, I'm going to kill her for this little stunt.
I stand there awkwardly for several moments, not sure what to do next.
“Would you like to take a drive with me, Ms. Winters? You can make your demands while we enjoy a festive night of Christmas lighting. There's a particularly spectacular neighborhood not far from here.” Hudson's eyes shimmer as he talks, taking me in from head to toe.
Demands? Hmm. What would it take to make me pretend to be in love with five guys at once?
The doorbell rings as Hudson and I stare at each other.
Now this must be the pizza guy.
I answer the door, digging around in my purse for a second and pulling out my debit card. I only hope there's enough on there to cover the pizza. The delivery guy swipes the card and makes a little frown; he clears the machine and tries again.
“Do you have another card to use? This one doesn't seem to work,” he says apologetically. Fuck. This is so embarrassing. Hudson hands a couple of bills to the guy over my shoulder.
“Keep the change,” he says, setting the pizza box on the side table and closing the door.
“I'll pay you back,” I tell him as soon as I hear the lock click. With what Natalie? You're broke. Maybe I should just take the money? If it weren’t for my sister, I'd be living in my car right now. My business is just starting out and it's a struggle to just break even at this point.
“No need. But if you really wanted to thank me, you'd come hang out with me and look at Christmas lights. No pressure. If at the end of the night, your answer is still no, then I personally promise you will never hear from me or my brothers again.”
Hudson moves over to me, so close the toes of his brown leather shoes touch my bare toes. He quirks his mouth to one side, and looks me straight in the eyes.
“Just so you know, after that kiss, I'll probably give you whatever you want.” He licks his lips, looking me up and down. My body responds immediately to his nearness. What is wrong with me? Why can't I seem to control myself around the Northington brothers?
“Alright, but we should probably take your car because the heater in mine doesn't work.” I figure I've got nothing to lose. Besides, there are worse ways to spend an evening than having a gorgeous billionaire take you out for a drive to look at Christmas lights.
“Car? Why would we take a car when we could take a limo?”
Once inside the limo, Hudson and I talk demands.
During negotiations, he's remarkably businesslike, keeping the flirtation to a minimum. After a lot of back and forth, we come to a tentative agreement. I hadn't expected to get there so quickly, especially not in the back of a limo filled with sex and shadows, but Hudson—despite his playful attitude—is a shrewd and calculating businessman.
Before our conversation takes a more … lascivious turn, I find myself agreeing to be his fiancée for the small price of, oh, seven hundred thousand dollars. I made it clear Gabriel could be thanked for the drastic price jump. Fortunately, the exclusivity contract between my business and NHI stays. I have complete control over the budget, theme, and style of the Christmas/faux engagement party. Lucky break tha
t, considering I'm the supposed guest of honor.
In exchange, I must sign an NDA, drop everything, and fly to Vail the day after tomorrow to start preparations. While there, I'll stay in their chateau, and each of the Northingtons will take turns sleeping in my room to keep up appearances.
And the big one that caused me to leave the NHI office so pissed off? The physical contact part? Well, most of our negotiations revolved around me not being treated like some plaything, a dog to sit, stay, and jump on command. We decide in the spirit of compromise that I won't do anything that might immediately tip off their father to the fact that this engagement is entirely a charade. That being said, I have no obligation to physical contact of any kind. As I told Hudson, if I were really their fiancée, I could already guarantee Gabe would be in the doghouse.
As soon we shake on the deal, Hudson's whole demeanor changes, and he relaxes back into the supple leather, looking every bit the cat that got the cream.
His warm brown eyes sweep my body and he licks his lips, causing goose bumps to break out along the path of his electrifying gaze.
“Now that business is finished, I say we celebrate.” He uncorks a bottle of champagne, pouring a couple of glasses before sliding across the seat. Hudson settles in so close to me that I can feel the smooth texture of his slacks touching the bare flesh of my exposed thigh. He leans in, one of the delicate crystal glasses outstretched for me to take.
I grasp it in delicate, sweaty hands.
“It's not every cold December night that a man gets engaged to a beautiful woman whose kisses”—Hudson trails his fingers along the heated flesh of my bare arm—“excite me the way yours do.” Flirtatiously, he leans even closer, erasing what small personal space I have. He stares for several moments, as if trying memorize every little detail of my flushed face.