by Sierra Rose
So maybe she wasn’t cut out for this, for being a rich man’s wife. He was wealthy and powerful and more than reasonably desirable. She should spend her time working out and doing juice fasts and ordering ruinously expensive handbags online. It sounded really, really dull to Marj. Except for the sex part, obviously. Dull was not a word she could use to describe sex with Brandon Cates, who was more than adequate in that department.
She’d get used to sleeping beside him. She wouldn’t pine and yearn for him. She’d keep herself busy, show up dressed in designer labels when they had an event to attend, and in a few months, she’d collect her jackpot and move on. It was the only practical method of getting through a situation that seemed to come with loads of thorny complications. Move forward, ignoring anything that made her uncomfortable like those damn feelings she kept having and do extra sit-ups in the morning. With that resolution in mind, Marj went to sleep just as she’d planned.
Chapter 4
At six in the morning when her alarm went off and she cussed and smacked at her phone until it stopped its infernal beeping. It seemed like a profoundly stupid idea to have insisted upon working when she could easily have slept another two hours and then gone to get a real spray tan, the kind Jennifer Lopez had, not the kind she had gotten at a discount. Marj dressed, muttering to herself about her own stubbornness, the unreasonable hour at which office work began, and a litany of curses upon whoever created the ringtone that her alarm used.
Brandon was still in bed, still looking handsome and muscled in the way that turned her knees to water and her resolve to mush. She had to talk herself out of getting right back in bed with him and twisting the sheets for a while. It wasn’t like she’d get fired for being late if she was shagging the boss, she thought wickedly. Then, of course, she’d grabbed her purse and left. She did treat herself to a latte on the way to work, though. She figured she could afford the large nonfat with skim foam now, just as a treat.
It turned out to be nothing you could call a productive day. Unless productivity was measured by the number of virtual strangers who dropped by to ‘see the ring’ or demand to know the whole story as to how the sudden matrimonial escapades went down. She had taken the precaution of texting Angelica a few messages on the plane home so her work bestie would know that it was a whirlwind romance like nothing she’d ever imagined. That way, she’d artfully placed a fairy tale in the gossip machine to ease her way when explanations were demanded.
She highlighted the peonies Brandon surprised her with at the chapel, the Titanic necklace (which she wore under her blouse and displayed to the oohs and aahs of other closet diCaprio devotees). She had just enough swoon worthy nuggets of information, just enough pictures of the two of them together to make it seem real. Never mind that she was still wearing a K-mart scarf, and she blacked in a scuff on her boots with a Sharpie when she got to work. The wardrobe that would take time to renovate. It was probably best she didn’t swan into the office wearing head to toe Prada. Too much conspicuous consumption could make the Wicked Queen’s radar go off.
Marj spent most of the day repeating the same two or three stories from her Vegas trip, showing off the ring as bashfully as she could manage, and protesting that no, really, she wanted to work. It wasn’t as though their newlywed status would disrupt the workplace since Brandon’s office was off-site at corporate headquarters. Still, she checked her phone more than was necessary just to see if he’d messaged her or emailed her or in case she had a missed call from him. Twice she texted Britt because she was pretending to message her adoring husband back after he kept checking up on her. Which he hadn’t because he was busy with his own work and wouldn’t be the sort to send smooches by emoji every hour.
About the time she got off work, Marj had a voice mail from Brandon saying that he had a dinner meeting and he’d be late. He’d like her to wait up if she wasn’t too tired. After last night’s coupling, she was indeed tired. Still, she found the home gym, worked out, showered and made herself some red pepper quinoa thanks to the fabulous array of ingredients in his pantry. The cook had been somewhat put out by the intrusion, but clearly the woman knew she was to let Marj Cates do whatever she liked in her own home. So at eight o’clock, Marj went to sleep. A disco nap, she called it, to be well rested for his return. She woke up at midnight, and he still wasn’t home, the same at one. At two thirty, Brandon opened the bedroom door, dropped onto the mattress and began snoring before she could even speak to him, much less initiate anything more amorous.
The next two nights were similar. So much so that he did send her one apologetic text that hopefully they could catch up over the weekend when they went to the opening of the ballet season.
She had replied, “Ok,” but if she’d had her way, they’d have plans to go to a club or three, hear some live music and unwind in style. She even had a cinnamon colored bandage dress that would be perfect for such a night. Marj had embraced the online shopping and had a few deliveries, mostly of eveningwear, but that dress for clubbing was burning a hole in her closet. Maybe she’d break it out for the after party, assuming the ballet didn’t last all evening. Maybe she could coax her new husband into going out for a drink or three after the performance.
The thought made her smile when she hadn’t been smiling very much for the last few days. She’d kept cheerful enough at work for appearances, but she didn’t like being left alone every night.
Chapter 5
Friday, she hadn’t spoken with Brandon in days, and she was eager for five o’clock so she could get home and get ready for their evening together. Her dress for opening night at the ballet was a retro cocktail frock in pale jade green lace, long lacy sleeves, and a full skirt that stopped above the knee. She felt like she ought to wear a whimsy veil and hold a champagne cocktail in one hand while Dean Martin crooned from the hi-fi. There was a sort of rockabilly swish to the skirt that appealed to her, and she knew that Brandon liked her personality well enough to be pleased with her choice instead of expecting an LBD from her.
When she emerged from her dressing area to retrieve her shoes, she found not Brandon, but a velvet box on the nightstand. Opening it, she found a pair of long earrings glinting with a sweep of tiny diamonds. She fastened them on and watched them swing among her curls in the mirror, distracted by their beauty. So she was barefoot when he opened the door. She looked back over her shoulder, felt the unaccustomed weight of the diamonds as she turned her head. He looked all polished and handsome, very James Bond—slick and dangerous. It was all she could do not to cheer, to run and fling her arms around him. She had to hold herself in one spot, remind herself to give a small smile and thank him for the gift.
“You look lovely. I’m glad you like them,” he said.
“I take it you’ve had a busy week, husband,” she said lightly.
“No more so than usual. Did you miss me much?”
“It crossed my mind a time or two that you weren’t here,” she lied easily.
“Really? Because I missed you like crazy.”
He placed a soft kiss on her lips.
“How are you handling celebrity status at work? I heard all the rumors.”
“Everyone is interested, naturally. You swept me off my feet and took me to your castle. The world loves a good Cinderella story, after all.”
“Wrong fairy tale. You’re more like Snow White. Because you’re trying to take down the Wicked Queen.”
“We let the Cinderella fairytale play out, but secretly, we play out the Snow White one.”
“Sounds like a plan, love.”
“Some claim behind my back that I married you for your money, and that I’m a gold-digger, but little do they know that I did it to save this company and their jobs, and to help you. And I can’t say a darn thing to defend myself.”
“No, please don’t say or hint to anything that will expose us. It’ll ruin everything we worked so hard for.”
“So that’s why we’ll let them stick with the Cinderella version. P
rince Charming came and we rode off into the sunset happily ever after.” She met his gaze. “So how is everything with you?”
“I took a good amount of ribbing about seizing a bride to get my inheritance, but when I show our detractors your picture, they shut right up. So I’d like to take this opportunity to thank you for being gorgeous. It removes a great deal of doubt in the minds of those who would question the authenticity of our union.”
“Well, the money was, in all fairness, your reason for agreeing to marry me. I like to think there are other perks.”
“You think rightly. There are definitely benefits to being your husband. For example, I didn’t have to sit through an abysmal dessert at Lena’s.”
“Is that all?”
“I also quite like it when you bite my lip,” Brandon said archly.
“Do you want to go to the ballet or not? Because if you keep looking at me like that, we’ll be making our excuses.”
Marj crossed the room, the lace of her dress whispering against her bare thighs as she hurried to reach him. Rising on tiptoe, she caught his lower lip between hers, grazing it with her teeth, her eyes locked on his. He took her by the waist, parted her lips with his and stroked his tongue into her mouth. Brandon gathered her full skirt up, reached beneath it to trail his hands along her bottom, cupping her nearly bare ass and stroking it. Her thong concealed little, but enough to interfere with his plans.
“When you bite my lip it drives me wild,” he said hoarsely against her throat.
His fingers feathered between her legs, teasing her thighs and the warmth at their juncture. He could already feel her dampness, the arousal that awaited him. She had mentioned being late to the ballet. He didn’t care about the ballet. He wanted Marj, wanted his wife this instant.
The way Brandon’s hands went between her legs almost immediately, Marj expected a hasty coupling, swift and fierce. So she was shocked when he reached for the zipper at the back of her neck and slid it down with aching slowness that made her pulse stutter in anticipation of what was to come. He lowered the lace sleeves from her shoulders, kissing the curve of her neck and her collarbone.
She stepped out of the dress and he tossed it onto a chair, leaving her in her creamy white thong and strapless push-up bra—both new additions to her wardrobe, and ones she was particularly glad to have just now. He licked his lips when he looked at her, as if he was about to feast on her. She gave a sly smile, not bashful at all, and untied his bow tie.
“I hope you know how to tie that back. It took me ten minutes,” he said.
Marj drew the black strip of fabric between her hands suggestively.
“I can’t tie a bowtie, but I have other uses for it if you like,” she said.
“I would, but we have the opening night to attend.”
“How serious are you about making it there on time?”
“Not very serious, as it turns out. It was going to be our debut as a married couple, written up all over Page Six with photos in full color. We’ll…get there eventually,” he said, a little breathless as she unbuttoned his shirt.
Brandon brought his face to her ample cleavage and flicked his tongue along the swell of her breast. She gave an appreciative sound and pushed his shirt off his arms and onto the floor in a heap. Trailing her fingers down his chest, she traced the cut lines of his abs, the trail that started at his navel and disappeared into his pants. She rid him of those in no time, and he lifted her onto the high four-poster bed.
“I’m glad we had the same idea,” he said appreciatively.
“It’s been one hell of a long week, Cates. A woman has needs,” she told him decisively.
With that, Brandon unfastened her bra and peeled it away, his mouth following his hands, taking full advantage of her breasts. Her nipples beaded at the first faint brush of his fingers, her stomach tightening, her toes curling in response to the way his tongue flicked along her flesh, circling ever closer to her nipple as she shuddered and panted in anticipation. When at last his hot mouth closed over her nipple, she let out an inarticulate gasp, dragging her hands through his hair, holding his face to her chest. His hands took her hips, fingers digging in for purchase, and raised them, pushing his pulsing erection into her slit. She bore down against him, lifting her hips up off the bed to meet his thrusts as he continued to devour her breasts.
Chills and jolts of pleasure seemed to short-circuit through her body as she thrashed and gripped at him, as he made her come up off the bed to meet his thrusts. When she cried out for more, he slammed into her again and again. She clawed at his thick biceps, climbed him, clung to him out of her mind until at last the wave crested and she fell limp onto the bed, eyes fluttering as he finished in her. She could see marks on his shoulders and arms from her nails, from her mouth, and she smiled faintly. Marj curled onto her side, cold from the ebb of her ecstasy.
Brandon swept her into his arms, pulling her onto his lap and cradling her in his arms, letting her absorb the heat emanating from his broad chest as he tried to catch his breath from the exertion.
“Are you okay? I got carried away, I think. You wanted more, and I lost my head. Did I hurt you?”
She shook her head mutely, knowing she’d be sore, knowing it was worth it. She nestled in against him and licked his neck. He stroked her hair and held her, his back against the headboard, supporting them both.
“See, I didn’t just marry you for your money,” she said a little flippantly, her hand on his chest.
Marj didn’t look at him. It was easier to take that intensity lightly, to make a joke of it if she didn’t have to meet his eyes.
“Did this improve your week?”
“Yeah, you could say that,” she said.
“More than shopping online?”
“You said you wouldn’t question the shopping!” she laughed.
“I’m shocked by your restraint. My assistant, the one who just quit, by the way, brought it to my attention with the news that within twenty-four hours she would have bought, and I quote, ‘Michael Kors EVERYTHING’ and then all of something called Sephora,” he said with a shake of his head.
“Sephora’s makeup. I wear drugstore makeup, except my MAC. I have a lipstick…it’s my secret weapon.”
“The red? Stays on remarkably well, considering what we just did,” he remarked.
“I think I can get dressed now. It’ll take a few minutes for me to reassemble,” she warned, rolling off the bed and going to clean up.
Chapter 6
In a scant quarter of an hour, Marj had managed to get ready yet again for the ballet opening. Her artful curls had succumbed to the sexy tumult and had to be twisted into an updo because they were unsalvageable, but the rest of the ensemble looked remarkably similar despite the naughty intermission. True to his word, Brandon had spent most of the intervening fifteen minutes repairing his ill-treated bow tie and coaxing it into some semblance of a bow.
They reached the theater only a little late, whispering and giggling like teenagers. They paused on the white carpet for photos and comments. Brandon took her left hand and held it in his palm, displaying her extravagant rings for the camera.
“This is my bride, Marjorie Cates. I had no idea when Power Regions took over that little paper company that I was acquiring a wife as well as a business—”
“It was a merger, remember?” she teased and he favored her with a smile and the click of camera shutters greeted them.
“Right, total voluntary merger. That came with a major perk. I met my bride in Vegas. I have a reputation for being somewhat cutthroat in the business world, and I can tell you that I take no prisoners. I knew if I let her get away from me, some other man—smarter, more aggressive—would snatch her up, and I’d leave Las Vegas with serious regrets. It was too great a risk. I had to marry her right then,” he said with his signature charm, his studied half smile that drove her wild.
A reporter asked why they were late to the event.
“Is it because Mrs. Cates is
unaccustomed to getting ready for such galas?” the woman asked condescendingly.
“No, our tardiness is because my wife was, in fact, ready early for the event but I found her irresistible and detained her. She would have been on time were it not for that,” he said, and the reporter looked astonished at the implication, tapping on the touchscreen keyboard furiously.
Marj kissed his cheek, leaving the barest hint of red on his scruff and wiping it with her thumb almost affectionately. He had stood up for her and had called her irresistible. Take that, Lena, she thought. The people reading Page Six tomorrow or crawling the society blogs tonight would not see a rich man with an emergency bride to help get his inheritance. They’d see a pair of amorous newlyweds who couldn’t keep their hands off each other. He was so good at being convincing it was tempting to believe he was in earnest. It would be so dangerously easy to think him sincere.
Together they went inside the theater, opulent in gold and red, with velvet hangings on the walls, ornate railings that were rather more decorative than an actual safety feature for those on the mezzanine and balcony levels. Brandon had a box, a curtained off, old-fashioned private viewing box. Of course, he did. Because billionaires were the American variation on royalty and everyone knew that money bought you better air, more privacy and more comfortable seats. There was a tufted velveteen couch, long and low, that gave Marj impure thoughts. A bottle of chardonnay chilled on the table and a waiter poured her a glass. She sipped it, cool and crisp, and thought how perfect it was for the light, airy dance that went on below them.
She wasn’t much interested in the ballet itself apart from the evident athleticism of the dancers, their powerful legs propelling them through the air to turn as delicately as leaves in the wind, belying their strength. She was interested in seeing Brandon for the first real block of time they’d been together since Lena’s dinner—and that hadn’t exactly been quality time, considering the lawyers and the Wicked Queen and all the oysters and kale and insults that went by.