Mr and Mrs Sullivan: Standalone Arranged Marriage Romance

by Simone Nicholls

  I didn't know much about him, but from the looks of him, drinking and tattoos seemed to be some of his favourite things.

  I walked back to the lounge room, my wedding dress hustling at my feet. Now that I didn't have my heels on, it was way too long for me. I paced back and forth, wondering how Megan had gotten me into this mess. I thought about calling her, but realized it was probably too late and would wake her up.

  I pursed my lips. Fuck it. I picked up my phone and dialled her number.

  "Hmm, calling me on the wedding night. Are you wanting to thank me?” she answered on the first ring.

  “What the hell were you thinking when you set me up with him?” my tone was harsh.

  "Dane Sullivan. As in the football star player, Dane Sullivan."

  Football player? I guess that answered why the wedding was filled with overly tall and muscular men. "I don't care who he is. He’s a drunk." I went to undo my dress, but couldn't reach and undo the corset. Bloody hell! Don't tell me I was stuck in this for the night. I groaned. Would this nightmare ever end?

  "So you've already googled him then?"

  "No. Why would you say that?"

  "Because his partying and the alcohol is the reason he had to settle down. The club wouldn't sign him on for longer than a year. If he gets his social life and public image back in shape, he’ll get signed for another five next year."

  Well, that explained why he wanted to get married, but why to me? "Couldn't he have married a friend or something? It's not like he’s like me. He could have anyone."

  His looks, fame, hell, just the way he carried himself would have women dropping for his attention. I’d noticed the females were drooling over him at the reception.

  "So could you, Emerald."

  "My situation was different. You know, I couldn't just link up with anyone. It had to be an arranged temporary thing." I cursed because that’s exactly what I had got myself in for. "How did you link us together? It's not like you can run an ad looking for a man wanting to marry a stranger."

  She went silent for a minute. "Well, I may be dating his agent."

  I groaned. "So this was organised over pillow talk?" I wanted to slap her. Lucky for her she was in a different state right now.

  "It solves both problems. You help him repair his public image and he deters men from stalking you."

  "You still haven't promised me that it will stop. I checked my letter box today and I had more cut outs." Creepy ass letters. Looked like they were from a serial killer. All my letterboxes were private apart from the fan one, but somehow this creep had managed to get my private addresses.

  "It will stop. And the police are looking into that one. Look, Em. Just take a Valium and get a good night's sleep."

  "I'm not self-medicating because you had me marry a drunk!"

  "It's only for a year."

  I had my hand on my hip and was looking out at the beach as the waves crashed on the sand. "I'm not moving in with him." I was firm on that. "Ever."

  "It's part of the contract, Emerald."

  "Well, I'm not selling my properties." If I had to live with him, I would make sure I didn't give up one of my houses. I had apartment and houses across the world. They were my escape.

  "You don't have too. Look, you just have to focus on his football season. Be at the games-"

  "Be a trophy wife?" I snapped. "Does this mean I can only take jobs around the city?"

  My career was built for around the world. I didn't do permanent jobs. I was used to being in a different country every week. I liked the freedom of traveling. But school was starting, and this year I wouldn't be doing it by correspondence.

  "No. During the week you can be wherever you want. It's just the weekends."

  "I need to go before I start abusing you." I hung up before she could say another word.

  Just the weekends.

  Was this really worth it? Maybe I should’ve just put up with the men. Wasn't a big deal. So what if they were all drooling, always wanting to touch me, always hitting on me? I groaned. I couldn't have more security if I tried.

  I had three bodyguards and the men still got through.

  I dropped my phone on the couch and laid down. I stared up at the glass ceiling and pondered my situation. Clearly, the star football player had money. Well, that was one thing I had too.

  I didn't just have family money, I had my own money. I had earned every million. Still, money wasn't going to save me from a year with a drunk, would it?

  Money didn't save me from men finding ways to touch me..

  Money didn't solve a damn thing.

  All it did was buy me places to hide.

  I looked at the wedding ring on my finger and bit my lip. This probably wouldn’t do a damn thing either.

  Chapter 3

  DANE

  I woke up rubbing my eyes. Where the hell was I? I looked around the room. Down stairs. I was down stairs. Why wasn't my head pounding? After the amount of spewing I did, I expected more than a slight headache.

  I remembered Emerald giving me something to take and swallowing something that tasted funny.

  Fuck, Emerald! My eyes went wide at the realisation. It was just hitting me. I’d been so nervous about being alone with her, I’d gotten off my face.

  I threw the blankets back and stumbled to my feet. Not only do I remember her cleaning vomit off my mouth, but she also put me to bed.

  Fuck Sullivan.

  I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror. I looked like a hung-over wreck and I smelled like the bar. The white shirt I was wearing was covered in stains. I looked like a train-wreck.

  I quickly ripped off my shirt, not wanting to remind her of what a drunk I’d been.

  I walked up the passage and that’s when I saw her. Asleep on the couch, still in her wedding dress. Her hair was to the side and while she looked like a sleeping angel, I looked like something that would be picked off the street.

  Her dress had worked its way down, and her breasts were basically spilling out. I grabbed the over throw off the arm chair and laid it over her.

  She stirred but didn't wake. After last night’s impression, I doubt I could come back from that. But I would try. I hadn't shown her the house. I hadn't given her the tour I was planning on. Or wowed her with a view of the beach.

  Hell, I didn't even give her a bed to sleep in. I walked up the step and into the foyer, noticing my side table on the ground and water everywhere. I guessed I’d done that too. But by the tracks left in the water, it looked like she had fallen and ditched her heels here.

  God, I was a prick.

  I took the stairs two at a time and walked up the second floor till I reached my room. It was spotless because the cleaner had been here. I grabbed a pair of jeans, boxers and a shirt that were folded on my bed and headed for the shower. I was going to make a better second impression. Even if I was nervous as hell at the thought of being alone with her.

  I got out of the shower and instantly felt better. I smelled like myself again, thank god. Looking at myself in the mirror, I decided to roll up my shelves. I didn't know why I was so bloody nervous. I could kick a winning goal on the siren but the thought of facing Emerald had me doubting every single thing. Right down to the socks I would wear.

  I decided to go with bare feet.

  Spraying myself with more deodorant, I decided I couldn't put it off any longer.

  I opened my door and headed down to the second floor. I'd cook her breakfast and tell her how extremely sorry I was. Sure, I liked to party, but that didn't mean I was a drunk. For nine months out of the year I was sober.

  It was only in the off season that I let myself drink. And yeah, I’d been drinking a bit too much lately. And waking up in strange places with women I didn’t know made the situation twenty times worse.

  I stepped over the water at the bottom of the stairs. I had to clean that up. I walked into the lounge, expecting her to be still on the couch but she wasn't. My house was open living, there wer
en’t many places to hide. I looked out the window and there she was. Sitting on the beach, still in her wedding dress.

  I pushed open the sliding door and walked down the porch steps.

  Time to be a man Sullivan.

  "Morning," I said to her back. She was just as beautiful as I’d remembered. Even in my drunken state, I had immediately placed her out of my league. There weren’t a lot of women in the world that fit into that class. In fact, I hadn’t met one. Until now.

  She looked over her shoulder, and damn I’d been right. She was completely out of my league. Was it possible for a woman to be that beautiful in real life? I didn't think it was. No wonder she was such a successful model. Not only did she have the figure for it, but she also blew every other model away with her classic beauty.

  "Morning." Her words were sharp. She forced a smile. "You're looking better."

  "Yeah," I scratched the back of my neck. Okay time to put the charm on. I wasn't above grovelling. "I'm so sorry. I really didn't mean to put you in that position."

  "It’s fine." She glanced away and looked back at the ocean.

  I didn't like the way she just dismissed it like it was nothing. Like she hadn't done anything for me. No one had never looked after me like that. Not even Mum did that when I was little. It was a big deal that she did. And I didn't expect that of her. Ever.

  Yet, she’d done it, without knowing me. She had a good heart and I had taken advantage of it.

  "I don’t care. It wasn’t right, what I did to you. It won’t happen again."

  I watched her shrug her shoulders. Her whole body turned to look at the ocean.

  That didn’t go as expected. What the hell did I do now?

  I guess when it came down to it, I was a stranger to her. A stranger that she had to look after.

  "You hungry?" I changed the subject. I needed her to be comfortable around me, and who would turn down food? We had to start somewhere. After all, we would be together for a year. But it wasn't just that reason I wanted her to feel comfortable around me. I didn’t know why, but suddenly her welfare was important to me.

  She nodded and went to get up. I took her a few steps towards her and took her hand in mine to help her up. She pulled up the ends of her dress so she wouldn’t trip.

  "Still in your wedding dress, I see.” I held her hand, even though she was steady on her feet. She was quick to take her hand out of mine. Both her slim hands were holding up her dress now as she walked.

  God, even her feet were perfect.

  "Don't even start with me on the dress." She grumbled.

  I didn't understand, wasn’t a woman meant to love their wedding dress? Maybe she didn't like it because she was forced to wear it. Wasn't like we married out of love. Hell, maybe she didn't even pick the dress.

  It was perfect on her though. Framed her body. All I wanted to do was touch her hips as she walked up the stairs. Her ass slightly swaying. So damn perfect.

  She walked through the door and I followed in her shadow, sliding the door shut behind me. It was going to be a warm day. The sting of the sun was already warming our bodies.

  "Can you do me a favour?" She spun around, looking at me biting her bottom lip.

  "After what you did for me last night, yes." I'd do anything she asked.

  "Can you get me out of this dress?"

  I just stared at her. Did I hear that wrong? Yeah, I must have. "What did you say?"

  "Can you get me out of this dress?" She said it slower. "I swear they have stitched it on to me." She spun around, giving me access to her back. She pulled her hair forward.

  "You sure you want me to take it off?" My hands were itching to do it. Surely, she wasn't giving me permission to strip her?

  "God, yes." She blew out and looked over her shoulder frowning. "Please."

  She didn't have to beg me. My hands slowly undid the corset. The more skin that showed, the more excited I became. Then my eyes noticed the black lace. Please don't let her be dressed in sexy lingerie.

  I was hoping for a mismatch bra and panties. That would be enough to send my fantasies off. But as I undid the final lock and the dress fell to the ground. She sighed in relief. And I froze.

  The black straps ran up her thighs, clipping her underwear to her tights. The black lace only covered half her ass. She turned around and I couldn't take my eyes off her breasts. The low cut black bra, was just screaming for me to free them out of it.

  "Thanks for that." She put her hands on her hips and I ripped my eyes off her breasts and looked her in the eyes.

  "You um, really are um..." What was I trying to say? How incredibly beautiful she was? How she had me throbbing, like no other woman had before? How I’d never seen anything sexier than what was in front of me.

  "I had a shoot before the wedding." She shrugged her shoulders. "Didn't have time to change."

  "Wait." I pointed at her. "There are photos of you wearing that, just that?"

  "I’m a model." She frowned. "It's what I do."

  "So you model underwear?"

  "Sometimes." She tiled her head. "Most of the time I have more clothes on." She smiled, "And I don't usually do personal shows. Like this."

  I snapped out of my stupor rather quickly "Right, I'll let you get dressed."

  But I watched her turn around and walk to the couch opening a suitcase. I knew I had to look away. I knew it was the gentleman thing to do. Still, my eyes were glued on her as she undid the straps that connected her tights and rolled them down. Taking them off. I loved seeing the way her underwear moved up her ass as she put her leg on the couch and rolled her tights down. Was it possible to get this hard, without even touching her? As my blood ran downwards, I knew my answer. Fuck yes.

  My wife was the sexiest woman on the planet, and it was going to torture me being so close and not being able to touch.

  She pulled a dress out from her bag and threaded her arms through it. Wasn't till it dropped covering her that I was able to look away.

  "Breakfast? Are you still hungry?" I called out as I went to the kitchen

  "Yeah, but you don't have to cook." She pulled her hair up, I'm sure she had had a hairdresser working on it this time yesterday but she threw it up like it wasn't perfectly shaped for her face.

  With her hair pulled up, I noticed the delicate lines of her neck. Fuck, I was a goner.

  "I can cook." I opened the fridge. I needed to distract myself. She was turning me into a pussy.

  I was gawking like a teenager.

  I scanned the fridge. "You're not vegan are you?" My hand hovered over the bacon and eggs.

  "Nope."

  "Eggs and bacon then?"

  "Sure."

  I started cooking and forced myself to focus on that and not the fact her dress had risen up her perfect thigh. I knew what was under that dress and I’d never wanted to rip something off a woman as badly as I wanted to rip that off her.

  "We should talk."

  I looked over my shoulder taking my eyes off the eggs. "About?"

  "Maybe start with what we do?" She arched her eyebrows at me. "Megan said something about you being footballer last night."

  So she didn't know who I was before she married me. That meant she hadn't married me for money or fame.

  "Who's Megan?" I took the bacon out of the oven.

  "My agent. She’s dating your agent, apparently. They paired us together." She didn't sound happy about it so I wasn't shocked to turn around and see her frowning. "I thought it came together too quickly and easily."

  I placed the bacon and eggs in front of her.

  "So that's how Jamieson found you. I don't mean this in a mean way or anything but why the hell would you get married? You're young right?" I had so many questions for her. I didn't realize how many until I had the opportunity to ask them. "You look young."

  "Eighteen." She picked her fork.

  I stilled. My wife was eighteen. Fuck.

  I lifted my shoulders and narrowed my gaze. “Why do it?”
>
  "Why did you?" She threw back.

  "I didn't really get an option." I placed some bacon and eggs on a plate for myself.

  "Yeah, but you could have married a friend or something. Hell, there were enough females at the wedding."

  I did have a lot of female admirers. But not one of them was nearly as beautiful as my pretend wife. "Yeah, there were just as many men there for you. Hell, all of my teammates were ready to jump you. I still think most of them made a crack on you as the night went on,"

  She rolled her eyes. "Typical."

  "So why didn't you marry one of your admirers?" I inquired. I was beyond curious at this point.

  "I needed it to be a contact. Clean and crisp. No emotions or feelings." She took a bite of her bacon. "Just keep it business, you know? So, why didn't you?"

  Keep it business. Guess that meant my charm wasn't going to work on her. I knew I had charm when it came to women. Normally, I wouldn't have to do much to get a woman. Though I had a feeling Emerald was going to be difficult in that scenario. Like I thought. Totally out of my league.

  "Similar reasons." I mumbled.

  "What do you want from me?"

  I choked on my bacon, because what I wanted was her in my bed.

  "Are you okay?"

  I filled a glass up with water and downed it. "Yep, I’m good." I wiped my mouth.

  "Like I was saying, what do you want from me?" She cut up her eggs and looked at me like I was just another business connection. Hell, she was using me and I was using her. We’d just fooled the world by declaring we loved each other enough to get married.

  "I thought we covered that in the contract."

  "Not really. It just outlined you needed me for a year."

  "I have to repair my public image." Now that I’ve mentioned it out loud, it was pathetic. I would’ve thought being good at the damn sport would get me a contract. I was wrong. Apparently image was everything. I was the captain and if I didn't pull my shit together, I wouldn't just lose the chance of a five year contract at the best club, but I would lose the privilege of being a captain. "Marrying you was the first step to repairing it."

  She nodded. "I can help with that."