Текст книги "The Bad Boy Arrangement"

Автор книги: Nora Flite

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Ignoring him, I wrenched the handle, diving into the room as adrenaline made my palms slick. Fight or flight.

I'd chosen flight.

The scent of chemicals hit me first. It was dark, my eyes adjusting from the light that filtered in through the huge windows. It could have been a small attic, except every inch of it was filled with one thing.

Painted canvases.

“Nix,” Abell hushed, coming up behind me.

Moving forward, I gazed at the myriad of paintings. They were all stunning, brightly colored like flowers in spring. One by one, I walked past them, my hand in the air—wanting to touch, but knowing better. “What is all this?” I whispered.

Shutting the door gently, Abell stayed where he was, silent.

Peeking back at him, I went back to scanning the art. Someone with skill had done all of these. They were well preserved, only a little dusty. No one had been in here for some time.

Leaning in close, I realized they all had signatures. Tiny, curving white letters in the bottom right corner—they read 'Birch.'

“Did you paint all these?” I asked, standing up straight as a rod.

The light above cast hard shadows along his nose and brow-line. The movement of his head, as he stared at the paintings, was subtle. “No.”

“Then who?”

Coming forward, he reached for one of the paintings where it sat on an easel. At the last second, he pulled away. “My mother.”

Shock spread through me like cement. His mother? And I knew, deep down, even before I asked, that something sad existed in the air between us. “What happened to her?”

His lips made a shape, but it wasn't his normal smile. “She died. Years ago.”

I hugged myself harder. “When you were sixteen. Is that why you ran away?”

Abell twisted, watching me closely. “You have a good memory for details.” Again, he looked at the canvas in front of him. “You want to know what happened?”

“Yes.” I said it fast; there was no hesitation.

His outline was sharp, as solid as a mountain on the horizon. Yet still, I had a terrible feeling that if I touched him, he'd crumble away. “My mother was a... good person.” He paused. “More than that. There isn't a word for her. She was perfect, and kind, and her soul was gentle. Accepting.” Bending his neck, he looked at the window, whispering, “That still wasn't enough for him.”

Ice burned inside of me. “Your father.”

Nodding, Abell opened his palm, finally brushing the side of the easel. “I don't think he ever really loved her. It didn't matter how she felt, or what she did, he just didn't care. When she got sick, and the doctors said she didn't have long... she started painting.

“I joined her. We'd sit up here for hours, just talking, laughing, watching the colors dry. She'd always wanted to be a painter, but she'd given up that dream to take care of me. But I was older now, and she was—” He stopped himself, then grit his teeth. “Dying.”

My feet were rooted to the floor. In my pocket, my phone buzzed—Gram was calling me—but I didn't care. I was attached to nothing in that moment but Abell. If I thought he'd peeled back his walls before, now I knew what that really meant.

He looked past me, over my ear. “The day she went into the hospital, I knew she was done. Everyone knew. But while she lie there, waiting for my father to come, he never did. I called him, over and over, but it made no difference.”

Making a fist, he shut his eyes—and laughed. The sound was torturous. “The woman who never stopped smiling, died with tears in her eyes, because the man she loved until the very end refused to see her! Isn't that amazing? Isn't life fucking amazing?”

Clutching my hands together, I saw the visceral pain contorting his face. Once, as a child, I'd encountered a rabid dog roaming the streets. It's eyes had been rolling, unhinged. Spittle coated it's soaked snout.

Someone had called the police, hoping to prevent anyone from getting hurt. As I watched from the safety of a bank, the dog went after the cop who approached. He shot it before it could dig in its fangs.

In that moment though, I'd seen the pure desire to kill in the eyes of a living creature.

Now, I saw that in Abell.

He was dangerous, he was broken. Being close to someone like this was as reckless as wanting to build a house on the edge of a volcano.

The smartest thing would be to turn, walk out that door, and forget everything.

The contract... my company... the marriage...

Everything.

Crossing the room, I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him against me.

Abell jolted, resisting me before going slack. In the darkness, disbelief fueled his stare. “Stop,” he whispered. “Don't try and act like you care. No one fucking cares. This world is full of selfish, shitty people. No one is worth loving. Not anymore.”

“Say what you want,” I mumbled against his chest. “I remember a night when a certain man, in all his glory, tore down a grassy hill to save someone he didn't know. There was no reason to step in. He just did it... because he cared.”

Gripping my chin, he angled me upwards. The glow in his eyes made me grateful he was holding me up. “You think that I saved you just because I cared?”

“Yes.”

“Maybe I hoped you'd be so thankful, you'd spread your legs for me.”

He's trying to hurt me. “That wasn't it. You said another girl was waiting for you, I remember. Saving me, saving Trish, it messed your night up. You knew it would, and you still acted. Don't lie to me.”

Abell's expression was rampant with chiseled grooves. He challenged me in that silence, dared me to bail under the intensity in his glare.

But I wouldn't break. I had fire in me, and he knew it.

Cradling me to him, he crushed my face to his chest until my skull throbbed. It was pain, but I loved it. “Thank you,” he said softly.

Hearing his heart beat, I wanted... I wanted to stay there. We could hide away in this room full of memories, never facing the people who had hurt us. I'd never run from anything before, but he made it feel so easy.

I was shaking; we both felt it. “Sorry. It's cold in here,” I lied.

Abell's lips quirked. “You use that line as an excuse a lot. Let me finally warm you up.”

My attention was frozen on his mouth. “But... the agreement,” I said in a hush.

From his pocket, he lifted the mistletoe. “Holiday tradition trumps everything.”

I licked my lower lip, my lungs constricting. “Tradition. Right. That...”

His mouth glided across mine, linking us tight. Abell was warm, even cozy. It would have been magical to stand there, our tongues slipping together as the rest of the world—my responsibilities—faded away.

In my pocket, my phone buzzed, shattering the moment.

Abell leaned back, both of us gasping softly as we parted. The stars in his eyes held me steady, chained me there in his arms. He said, “I think your brother is calling. It's probably time to leave.”

Shoving my emotions down, enough to back away, I dusted my dress off. “Right. Yeah. We should go before he sends in a search party.”

Why did he stop kissing me?

And why did it make me feel so anxious?

Together we left the room, our hands dangerously close to touching by our sides. I was aware of the distance, I wanted to close it, and I knew it was wrong.

Everything about this was wrong.

On the edge of the main foyer, surrounded by the crowd, Gram was typing into his phone. Breaking away from Abell, I waved an arm. “Gram!”

He looked up when I called to him. “Nicky! There you are! I had started to think you weren't here.”

I jogged to meet him. Before I could say another word, I pulled up short—Abell had clasped my shoulders from behind, effectively stopping me in my tracks.

From my vantage, I got to witness the unease in my brother's eyes.

Abell said, “You must be Gram. Nice to meet you in person.” Stepping beside me, he held out a hand.

Gram shook it, eyes narrowing a fraction. “Same. Thanks for the invite, your house is amazing.”

“It's not mine, but I'll take the credit,” Abell said. I saw his hand squeeze, knuckles going bloodless. Wincing, he pulled away, shaking his fingers with a shallow laugh. “Nice strong grip you have there, brother-in-law.”

Gram's shoulders balled up by his ears. His smile was tight as a drum. “Don't get ahead of yourself.”

They were weighing each other, the silent judgment of two men trying to discover the intent of the other. It was a silly attempt at machismo. I didn't need, or want, either of them starting a fight. “Hey, both of you, stop it.”

“Stop what?” Gram asked.

Rolling my eyes, I gave him a light shove. “You know what. Quit sizing him up. And you, Abell, don't antagonize him.”

“I'm not!”

I lifted one eyebrow. “You are. Just quit it. This is a Christmas party, we should be full of good cheer.”

A loud ringing cut through the air.

Conversation died, and I looked up, spotting Corin at the center of the room. He had a glass held high, tapping the rim with a spoon. At the sight of his smug smile, my stomach dropped. What the hell is he doing?

“Attention,” he said loudly. “I'd like to make a toast.” He scanned the room, finally halting when he found me. I stopped breathing. “The Birch family wants to welcome Nichole Halloway into our fold. She and my son are going to be married at the end of the month, and I for one couldn't be happier. And, you're all invited to the reception!”

All attention was on me. Glasses went up, a cacophony of happy 'cheers!' rumbling over and over. The applause became a hurricane.

And to my credit, I managed a fake smile.

I smiled and smiled and waved a hand politely.

And Corin's eyes never left mine.

– Chapter Nine -

Nix

In a flash, the days went by. They evaporated hour by hour, until finally, the current date slammed into me like a car crash.

Today I'd be trying on my wedding dress.

How did two weeks just vanish? It had been a blur. I'd weathered it in a haze of planning, firm acceptance...

And the occasional cocktail in the afternoon.

But there was more plaguing me than just the wedding. Abell had drilled himself into my life. He found numerous ways to be close to me, always pushing the limits—always trying to get me to buckle to him.

I'd been strong, but if I was honest, it had been a struggle. The bastard was too good at finding the cracks in my armor. One gritty whisper and my thighs were soaked. It was as if my atoms had been programmed to react to him.

Each day, the temptation to just drag him somewhere private so we could repeat what we'd done the night we'd met grew stronger.

I need to stop seeing him.

That was the answer; avoid Abell Birch.

Except when I stepped outside my door that evening...

Abell was waiting for me.

Dammit.

He was parked out front, leaning on the hood of his car. The sun was reflecting off of the glossy paint, but his teeth rivaled the shine. I'd never seen such a smug looking man. He wore it like it was his cologne.

Rocking off of the car, he waved at me. “Nice to run into you, Sugar.”

Narrowing my eyes, I edged down the steps. “What are you doing here?”

“Bringing you coffee.” He revealed two cups behind him, balancing on the Ferrari's hood. “Extra cream, just the way you like it.”

I blushed red hot. “You came here just to bring me coffee?”

“Is that surprising?”

Opening my mouth, I paused. “Yeah, actually.”

“I'm hurt.” Passing me one of the drinks, he chuckled. “But I was also told you'd be doing errands today, and I thought you could use some company.”

He'd been told? By who? Thinking about the Christmas party, I connected the dots. “My mother told you, didn't she?”

Sipping his coffee, he nodded. “Yup.”

Cursing that woman for meddling, I took a quick pull from my paper cup. The aroma of coffee grinds and the sultriness of cream washed over me. He'd made the drink perfectly. “Abell, you don't want to come to a bridal store. It's what groups of girls do, you know? Giggling, sitting around, trying on clothes? Boring.”

“Beautiful women changing in and out of their clothing? Sounds like my kind of place.”

Prickles of jealousy ran up my spine. I washed them down with another drink. “Thanks for this, by the way.” I wiggled the coffee side to side.

“Thank me by letting me drive you to your appointment.”

My resistance was flaking off, washed away by days of his flirting. Peering at the ground so I didn't have to see his grin, I said, “Alright. My gift to you is letting you drive me.”

He cut the air with his warm laugh. “Aren't I lucky?” Tapping his keys, the doors unlocked. “Your chariot awaits.”

It was a challenge not to lighten up when he was so playful. Slipping into the car, I went to turn the radio on. “Hey,” I said, hesitating. “What happened to your knob?”

“My 'knob' is just fine, what'd you hear?”

Rolling my eyes, I pointed at the radio. He saw what I meant, and his frown was a quick flicker. Pushing the gas pedal, he started us forward so roughly I bounced back in my seat. “Hey!”

“Sorry.”

I shot him a side-eye. He's hiding something. I didn't know how to casually prod, so I let it be. Whatever had happened to his radio didn't matter, anyway.

Well, except that now I didn't have music to escape into and avoid conversation.

Heat roared from the vents, making the Ferrari toasty—welcome compared to the chilly day. It actually made me sleepy, sitting there with the hum of the engine and the cozy warmth.

“I don't usually have to ask this,” he said, his smirk going crooked. “But you'll have to direct me.”

Lifting my chin, I dared to meet his smile with my own. “It's not the first time I've done that.”

In the centers of his irises, a glimmer of delicious promise grew. “I guess you're right. You did direct me to fuck you over and over that night.” Pointedly, he looked down at my chest, growling in the back of his throat.

Pushing my knees together, I turned away. My breath was coming so fast it actually fogged the window up. “There, up ahead, ” I said, my tone shaking. Calm down. I pointed at the street. “Turn right there, the shop is just a bit further.”

It was a mint and pink building, the giant windows displaying white dresses in various styles. Just as I was regaining my composure, a new wave—a different wave—of nerves slammed into me.

This is it. Struggling with the handle, I jumped out of the Ferrari and sucked in the chilly air.

Abell locked the car, walking to me with his hands folded behind his head. “You alright?”

Breathe. Breathe. You can do this.

My hands rested on my knees, I was bent in two. “Yeah. I mean, no.” Giggling uneasily, I shook myself. “It's just weird. I never expected... I don't know.”

“What? You never thought you'd get married?”

My brain flashed with memories. One of them, a vivid image of my mother throwing a cellphone at my father, had my stomach twisting. “You know what my parents are like, I don't have the most positive views about the custom.”

“I hear you there.”

Yes. Of course he did. The story about his poor mother had opened my eyes to his tragic past. It also helped me understand that day, when he'd cradled a tulip and complimented how it would suit me.

Everything he knew about color, he'd learned from her.

My lungs stretched; I was dizzy, but less panicked. “Come on,” I said. “Let's get this over with.”

The door jingled as we entered. A man in a crisp, grey vest looked up, greeting me with a giant smile. “Hello! How can I help you?”

“Um, I guess I have an appointment? Nix Halloway?”

“Oh, of course!” He threw up his hands, startling me. “Your mother called ahead. You aren't giving us much time to get you fitted, you know,” he teased. “I'm Bates, I'll be taking care of you.” Spotting Abell, he lifted an eyebrow. “Are you the fiance?”

Fiance. Cripes.

Abell reached out, circling an arm around my waist. “That's right. Future husband.” He squeezed one of my ass cheeks firmly.

I bit my tongue, the pain stopping me from whimpering at his possessive touch. Sliding out of his reach, I motioned for Bates to hurry and lead the way, staying several feet ahead of Abell. “Sorry for the short notice, I usually do things with much more planning.”

“It's no trouble. I'm going to get you into a dress you'll love.” His voice rolled with amusement. “Your mother emphasized not to worry about the cost, and we all know money smooths every inconvenient wrinkle life has for us.”

Once, I would have agreed. For some reason, thinking about money formed a crater in my guts. Money is why I'm doing this. I glanced sideways at Abell. And money is why he's going along with this charade.

That fact dug at me like a rusty nail.

Shaking off my weird mood, I followed Bates further into the store. Dresses hung off every hook, glittering bright as new snow in every style.

Abruptly, the clerk pulled up short, pointing at Abell. “I'm sorry, Mister...”

“Just call me the husband to be.”

The clerk made a face. “We prefer the fiances to stay here.” He pointed at a lone bench in the middle of the store. “Seeing your bride in her dress before the big day isn't standard.”

“I don't think I'm a very 'standard' guy,” Abell said. Nodding at me, he ran his fingers down the front of his shirt. Helplessly, I pictured him running his hand over me. “Do you care if I watch?” He didn't hide the lust that ruled his expression.

I wanted to be offended, but a little twinge rolled through my belly. “You weren't supposed to come at all. Just sit there, I'll be done fast.”

Bates frowned as deep as he could. “It takes time to find the perfect dress for the biggest day of your life.”

I laughed sourly. “Anything that fits me will be good enough.” When his frown shifted into sadness, I corrected myself. “Not to say what you do isn't worth the effort! I'm just... I'm easy to please.”

Abell's voice was thick as he whispered, “You certainly are.”

Sweating across my neck, I nudged Bates around the corner. “Let's get this show on the road!” Glaring over at Abell, I tried to express all of my distaste in a single scowl.

Of course, he only bared his pearly teeth, flopping onto the bench comfortably.

Bates led me to an area that was quiet and empty. A stall was cut into the wall, dresses decorating the racks around us like an ethereal lace forest.

The instant we were alone, he handed me several of them, stacking my arms until I grunted. “Go on,” he said, waving at me. “Get in the stall and try one!”

Brushing the curtain aside, I squinted at the inside of the room. “There are no mirrors in here.”

“Of course not!” He pointed at a podium that was surrounded by reflective walls. “Your first visual will be dramatic, astounding! It's the only way to experience the dress, and to know if it's the one.”

Pursing my lips, I chuckled. “I like your enthusiasm, but I'm warning you, I'm not going to get that excited about this.”

“Maybe you'll be surprised.”

I started to argue, but he reached out, pushing me gently into the stall. “Go, go!”

The curtain drifted shut, leaving me alone. Sighing, I set the dresses on the hooks on the walls. They were all different, sharing only the common theme of bright white.

I can't believe I'm doing this. Which do I put on first? Deciding it didn't matter, I ran my fingertips over the front of a ball-gown style dress. It's so expensive looking.

This stuff was meant for a queen, not me.

Tugging my clothes off, I kept my heels on, figuring the extra height would help me not drag the wedding dress along the floor.

I pulled the full skirt upwards, the weight of it amazing me. It managed to have a heaviness to it, but also, a surprising lightness. What kind of fabric was this?

The pleats were coated in filigree and glitter. It reminded me of fairy wings, and that thought alone made me smile. I hadn't been exposed to much fluff or fantasy as a child. My parents had set out from the start to infuse me with responsibility.

Binding the corset around my middle, I felt like... a bride.

Will I look like one?

Zipping the back closed, I buried that wandering thought. It didn't matter how I looked. This was about hard work, dedication, and sacrifice.

Especially sacrifice.

“Don't dawdle,” the clerk called to me. “Chop chop! Let's see how you look!”

Inhaling until my lungs could swell no more, I held the air. I didn't release it until I started to see black spots.

Okay. Here we go.

Stepping out of the stall, I was faced by multiple reflections of myself. From every angle I saw the dress clinging to me; the lace ruffles, the rose shaped edges curling down my bare back.

I'd never worn anything like this before. The woman in the mirror didn't look like me. She was serene and soft. I was hard edges and daggers.

What the hell was I doing putting this on?

I didn't belong here, I didn't... I couldn't get away with this. Everyone would laugh and say I was fake.

And wasn't I?

“Isn't it gorgeous?” Bates gushed.

Half-turning, I adjusted my hair over my shoulder. I couldn't tell the clerk my complex jumble of emotions and thoughts. “I don't know. It's a great dress, it just isn't... I look funny.”

This isn't me. I'm not a bride.

I'm a soldier.

Bates clicked his tongue. “You look stunning!”

A thick, restrained voice spoke out. “Stunning isn't a strong enough word.”

Freezing, I clutched my hair tight. In the mirror, I could see his reflection; blue eyes, a tight jaw and tighter fists.

Abell was there.

And he was watching me.