“It's called a wedding dress. Do you always have to be so dramatic, Nichole?” Ignoring my glare, she handed me a small green envelope.
Poking the sharp corner, I squinted at the gold seal and elegant writing that spelled my name. “Don't tell me this is a sample wedding invitation, I'm not inviting anyone to this mess.”
Her mouth scrunched, like she'd eaten a handful of lemon rinds. “It's an invitation to the Birch's Christmas party. It's this weekend, you're going.”
“You expect me to put on a cocktail dress and make nice with the guy who's selling me to his son?”
My mother turned away, phone sticking to her ear as she avoided my attempt to burn a hole through her skull with my brain. “Speaking of dresses, don't you dare miss that wedding dress appointment next week. Find something that fits. You don't have much time to slim down, so your options will be limited.”
Narrowing my eyes at her, I shoved the list and invitation into my purse. “Guess I'll just be stuck with whatever they can dig out from the back, then. Something that fits my apparently gigantic ass.”
When I turned away, I exaggerated my hips as I walked around the hallway corner. It was a ridiculous strut, over the top and straight out of some strip club dance routine. I wanted her to maybe get the sense that she was being horrible.
She hadn't yet, but hey, there was still time.
Why is she never satisfied with me! This feeling wasn't new, but it still stung.
As a kid, my mother used to make me weigh myself every morning and night. If the number deviated greatly, she'd deny me dinner. I'd often go to bed hungry.
Yeah. She was a real piece of work.
“Nice walk,” a deep voice said.
Turning, I gawked at Abell. He was lounging by the water cooler, crumpling a paper cup. His stare said he appreciated the way I'd been swaying around like an animal in heat.
Stuttering, I said, “I—that—you don't understand.”
“No need to defend yourself. I wasn't complaining.”
Red from head to toe, I choked the strap of my purse. “Why are you here?”
Abell rocked forward, coming my way. Suddenly he pulled up short, standing back further than usual. His smile wavered, eyes taking me in again.
What the hell is wrong with him? Do I smell bad?
He gathered himself, teeth glinting brightly. “I'm here to run into you.”
“I actually was hoping to see you, too,” I said.
He gave me a look that implied he was more than happy to hear that. “You were angry with me last time we spoke, or was that just your way of flirting?”
Instead of fighting with him, I motioned for Abell to follow me. Ducking into an empty hall, I made sure we were alone before rounding on him. “We need to talk about this marriage situation.”
His chuckle slid over my heart, caressing it. “You already know where I stand, Sugar.”
A tiny tremble took hold in my knees. Stay on target. “I've moved past the denial stage of this. Your father has my company by the throat, and I've worked too hard to lose everything. Marrying you is the last thing I want to do, but I'm open to making it work.”
Abell had turned to stone, doubt contorting in his face. “You are?”
Nodding, I held up a hand. “You want your money, I want my company. I just have one condition.”
“Go on.”
Lowering my voice, I bit off the words. “No. Sex. Ever.”
His forehead crinkled dramatically. “In general?”
“Between us!” I hissed, clenching my fists. “It'll be a sham marriage, get it? We'll do it on paper, but nothing else. It's the only way I'll agree to it.”
“Didn't my father also demand I knock you up? Do you have a sham baby in your pocket, too?”
My throat went dry as old toast. “We'll tell him we're trying, when we aren't.”
Scratching at his cheek, he asked, “What if I say no to your one condition?”
“Jeez,” I laughed, “Do you want to sleep with me again that badly?”
He smiled, saying plenty with just his eyes.
Blushing furiously, I mumbled, “This is the only way I'll go along. I'm not going to subject myself to becoming someone's whore. I'd give the company up before that.”
“Ouch.” Touching his hand over his heart, he sighed. “You make it sound like sleeping with me is a punishment.”
“Just tell me you agree to my terms.”
Abell looked down his nose at me. He was quiet, making me wonder what was going on behind his stoniness. Finally, he gave a tiny shrug. “When you beg me to fuck you, do I still have to resist?”
My mouth fell open. “I'd never beg you to fuck me.”
“You will.” His smirk could cut diamonds. “You definitely will. And when you do, my stipulation is that... I won't hold back.”
A flutter crept through my body, building a home between my thighs. I squeezed them, ignoring how good the pressure felt. “You've got me all wrong. I'm not that desperate.”
He gave me a long, intense look.
Breaking away, I said, “I already told my mother I was going along with the marriage.”
Abell tilted his head, as if viewing me in a new light. “She'll let my father know, I imagine. Guess I don't have to spill the good news to him.”
“Then we're done here.” Yanking out the list my mother made, I confirmed the time slots. That eager, cautious woman... she'd actually set up a meeting with a florist today. “I have an appointment to get to, see you later.”
He pushed off the wall. “I'll come along.”
Stumbling, I shot him a confused stare. “Why? It's just looking at flowers.”
He hunched closer to me, I could hear him inhale. “Who knows, you might need a second pair of hands.”
It took all of my strength to stop staring at his mouth. Grabbing my phone, I called for a private car. “I don't have the time to argue with you.” I need air, I need it now!
Marching out the front of the building, I shielded my eyes from the sun. In mere minutes, a shiny black car pulled up against the curb. In my rush to escape Abell and all he represented, I opened the door, practically jumping inside. Phew, I thought in relief.
I'd just buckled myself in when Abell slid into the backseat across from me. I stared at him in disbelief. Grinning, he clicked his seat belt. “Are you going to shove me out of the car?”
My driver twisted around, offering me a look that said he didn't know what to do, but would listen to my instructions.
I shut my eyes tight. “I'll wait until we're in the middle of moving traffic before I kick you out.”
Abell's laugh was low, scratchy—real. It was the first hint of something genuine beneath his surface, and it threw me for a loop. “You're staring at me,” he said.
“Sorry.” I focused on anything else but the man sitting beside me. Don't get fooled by him. He's a player, that's all.
The driver turned us onto Main street, taking us quickly towards the flower shop. It was a tiny building shoved onto a corner across from the mall, the front of it covered in painted vines and actual flowers.
I slid from the car so fast that I banged my forehead on the edge of the roof. “Ow!” Cupping the tender spot, I winced.
“You alright?” Abell asked, hurrying to my side.
“Yeah. I just banged it, nothing major.” Lifting my eyes, I stood still as an ancient tree. Abell was leaning over me, his fingers pressing against my skin next to my injury.
The concern in his stare left me baffled. His magnetic pull demanded I not look away. Brushing my hair back, he said, “Looks like you'll have a small bump. Does it hurt?”
The thumping of my heart was so loud, it blocked the rush of passing traffic. I struggled to make sense of what was happening. Abell was being so sweet, I was spiraling into a confused bubble.
Just answer him!