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9
Jasper
Dee and I fall into a rhythm. Nights at my place—long nights that I curse for ending. Nights when I take her every way I want her, in every room my the condo. I fuck her against the front door one night, unable to wait a second longer because the pencil skirt she’s wearing is driving me wild. I hike it up around her hips, pick her up and brace her body with mine, her legs wrapped around my waist as I fuck her against the wood paneling, her hands digging into my shoulders, the nails leaving half-moons on my shoulders that make me smile when I see them morning.
Another night I fuck her on the kitchen counter, distracted halfway through us attempting to cook dinner together. We burn the rice, and wind up ordering delivery instead. While we’re waiting on that, I bend her over the arm of the couch, thrust deep into her, again and again until we’re both breathless and she’s screaming my name at the top of her lungs.
The third night we come home together, my neighbor issues a noise complaint. In response, we make sure to fuck on the floor right above his bedroom, her with the pair of high heels she wore to work still on, so they clatter against the floor for extra sound effects.
I don’t know what’s gotten into me. I’ve never been like this before, never felt like this about a woman. I sext her all day long, asking for selfies, and when she finally caves in on Friday and sneaks into the ladies’ room to send me a snapshot of the panties she’s wearing, barely covering the lines of her clean-shaven pussy, I have to cancel an afternoon meeting to lock myself in my private office bathroom and jerk off, my hand tightly fisted around my cock, eyes squeezed tight shut as I picture her perfect tits, the way her ass bounces when I fuck her on all fours.
The office, of course, is a rumor mill on steroids. Caroline has stopped speaking to me altogether, passing me my mail with a cold, blank stare. Finally. If only I knew this was all I needed to do in order to get her to stop pining after me.
But I do feel bad about the effect all these rumors are having on Dee. She tries to hide it, tries to cover up the way it upsets her, but I can read it on her face at dinner, anytime I ask her about her day, about the internship. She blames it all on accounting, but I know better. I just feel so helpless. She asked me not to reassign her, not to play favorites, and I get what she means, that would look worse. But surely there has to be something I can do, some way to make up for this mess I’ve stuck her in.
After all, it’s not like she really strode in here trying to play gold-digger. Greg and I picked her out of a stack of applicants because we knew she’d be the least likely candidate to win my father’s affections. We knew whispers about a broke girl seducing me this fast would raise red flags everywhere. We molded her into this shape, and now she’s the one being blamed for it.
It’s not fair.
But then, I never expected Dee to be… well, Dee. I never expected to meet a woman like her, a woman I can discuss every topic that pops into my mind with, from car specs to baseball, which it turns out we’re both obsessed with, to any old topic I stumble across in the morning news or hear on the radio. She’s smart, she’s funny, she’s well-versed in pop culture. She’s the total package. Wife material, as some might say.
Turns out that in fake marriages, I know how to pick ‘em. But what happens when that fake marriage is beginning to feel far too real for me? What happens when our business arrangement runs out, and I don’t want it to end?
These are the thoughts running through my head when I run into Greg on my way into work the Monday before our reunion. We fly to Greece two days from now, and all I can think about is Dee, and what’s going to happen once we get to the other side of this reunion. What’s going to become of the nights we steal together, the mornings we have before we come into the office. All the thousand little in-between moments, stolen glances over the water cooler, winks while we wait in separate cafeteria lines at work. Feeling my veins catch fire whenever my phone buzzes with a text from her.
“Looking forward to getting this over with?” Greg asks with a grin, gesturing me toward his office, and for a second, I don’t even comprehend what he means.
“Hmm?” I step inside, wait for the door to shut.
“The reunion. Are you looking forward to all the charade stuff being done? By the way, excellent acting job, you two. You ought to get Emmys for your performances.” Greg circles around to the far side of his desk and picks up a folder, passing it to me. “Here’s the flight information you requested, along with schedules for the weekend—airport pickup details, hotel info, all in there. And your father’s putting together a cocktail welcome night, first night we get to Greece.”
I’m staring at the envelope like I’ve just been slapped in the face.
Greg frowns at me. “Everything all right?” His eyebrows rise. “Look, if you’re worried about how this is going to go down, don’t be, Jasper. She’s perfect. Seriously. Some of those dollar store outfits she’s been wearing to work lately, not to mention all the rumors all over the office? Your father is going to lose his shit when he meets her. She’s his worst nightmare made manifest.” Greg looks positively giddy at the thought of it. “Maybe we can start a rumor that she’s planning to pawn the rock you gave her as soon as the ink’s dry on the marriage license too. You know, for good measure.”
I glare at him.
His expression falls, only a little. “What? I thought you guys planned all this. She’s the gold-digger bride who teaches your dad a much-needed lesson about meddling in his son’s affairs, when those affairs shouldn’t be related to your performance at the office. No?”
“Don’t talk about her like that,” I say, my voice low and angry. My stomach clenches. I mean, yes, that was the plan. But just hearing Greg describe her like that turns my stomach.
What am I going to do if my father does do what we want? If he demands that I leave Dee? I went into this wanting a wife he’d hate, so he’d let me off the hook, demand I divorce her and leave me alone to take over as CEO whether I have a wife on my arm and a passel of kids underfoot or not.
But now…
Now, I’m realizing, I might not want to leave her. Even if Dad does demand it.
Greg, meanwhile, is staring at me like I’ve grown a second head. “Jasper.” He crosses around to my side of the table now, and takes the files from my hands for a moment, so he can rest his hands on my shoulders and level with me, eye to eye. “Dude. I know I’m your assistant and all, but as your distant cousin… As your friend, are you all right? You’ve been acting super weird since this charade started, and now, what, you’re telling me you don’t want me to call her what we’re currently hoping everyone here is calling her?”
“You don’t understand.” I brush his hands off my shoulders and reach for the file, ready to storm out.
Greg starts to laugh, then. “Oh, my God. Are you actually falling for her, Jasper?”
“Of course not,” I snap, instinctively. Immediately, a surge of guilt rises in my stomach. I’m not. Am I?
“Did we choose too well? Did we pick the one gold-digger who’s actually capable of hitting pay dirt with you? Because I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look so riled up before, not even on the test track, let alone over some girl.”
“She’s not just some girl,” I snap. “She’s going to be my wife. At least, as far as the public knows. I won’t have her talked about like this.”
“So you don’t want your father to hate her after all then?” Greg quirks a brow. “Because if not, she is going to need a serious makeover, and a new background story before she meets him, I gotta say—”
“I’m not listening to any more of this.” I turn the doorknob, file tucked un
der my arm. “You’re my assistant, Greg. Do as I tell you, and show my fiancée some respect.” With that, I slam the door on him and head out of the building. Toward my car, where Dee will already be waiting, leaning against the hood, sunning herself the way she always does until I meet her out here to drive her home.
Home. My condo has never really felt like a home before. Not without her in it. I used to work overtime all the time, spend countless hours in the office, but now… Now I can’t wait to get there. Can’t wait to tear the place apart with her.
The moment Dee pushes herself off the hood of my car, smiling, arms spread wide to greet me—the moment I step into those arms and pull her body against mine, her curves melding into mine, a perfect fit, and my mouth claims hers—I feel right. I feel whole again.
Screw whatever Greg thinks. Screw what anyone thinks. She and I will figure this out together.
But as I take the wheel, and Dee picks up the sheaf of paper Greg gave me without thinking, flipping through it and exclaiming at the first class plane tickets, the fancy chain hotel name, my pulse thuds in my temples. What if Greg included anything else? What if he added a personal note about our initial plan or about my father’s reaction?
I reach over, as casually as I can to pluck the folder from her hands. “Let’s look at that later,” I tell her with a sideways grin, and hope I manage to seem nonchalant as I toss the file into the backseat. Because what am I going to say if she ever finds out how all this began? If she learns that we chose her because she seemed like the least likely candidate to fit into my life, out of every single other intern in that pool?
She knows we want to fool my father into thinking I’m married, so I can be promoted to CEO. She doesn’t know that the whole plan was for my father to hate her on sight, for him to disapprove so strongly that he demands I divorce her, and stops asking me to wed before I take over the company.
