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2
WYATT JAMES
I couldn’t get out of that reception hall fast enough. After three hours of shaking hands and faked congratulations, I’d had my fill. Then again, being on a private jet to Bora Bora wasn’t any better. I was comfortable, the crew catering to my every whim, but I still wasn’t looking forward to the long flight.
The only bright spot during the entire flight was being able to look down at Allison while she slept peacefully at my side. I had known the twins for a long while, and I couldn’t recall a single moment when Allison had been a peaceful girl.
A social butterfly full of laughter?
Sure.
Obnoxious and a little self-centered?
Definitely.
But peaceful wasn’t a word I would usually associate with her.
With her sister, Addison, definitely. That girl was full of peace and quiet. Hell, I didn’t think I’d ever heard the girl speak. She was seen, more than likely with a book in her hands, but never heard. Meanwhile, Allison didn’t know when to shut up.
It wasn’t that I didn’t like Allison. I supposed in my own way I did. But my parents liked her more. In their mind, she was the pretty daughter-in-law they always wanted. In my mind, she was a means to an end—a way to pacify my family and get what I deserved.
The family business.
I had never planned to get married. I was thirty-two years old, and the thought of a wife and kids had never crossed my mind. It wasn’t until my grandmother, the matriarch of our clan, sat me down and told me she would never leave everything to a playboy like me that I cared.
Her exact words were, “I wouldn’t mind leaving everything to a man with a family to worry about, but you? Well, you have nothing to lose, and a man with nothing to lose will more than likely lose everything.”
And she was right.
Which was where Allison Banks came into the picture.
Our fathers attended college together and had spent many a weekend since drinking scotch and reminiscing about their fraternity days. So when my grandmother mentioned the word marriage, it was only natural for my father to think of his old friend and his twin daughters.
“What about Allison Banks?” he’d asked.
I had tossed her name around my brain a bit before deciding if I was going to be attached to a woman for the rest of my life, it was at least going to be someone I could tolerate. And while Allison was gorgeous, she was shallow and untrustworthy.
Not to mention, she was several years younger than me. Hell, I could still remember the starry-eyed way the twin girls looked at me when I was seventeen and forced to attend a family dinner with my parents. The girls had spent the rest of the night clutching their baby dolls and giggling at me from across the table.
I was seconds away from turning down my father’s idea of marrying Allison when he pointed out a few important details.
One: Allison Banks was a socialite through and through. She was already a part of our social circle and knew the way things worked.
Two: She was a flake who worried mostly about herself, which meant she would probably spend most of her time out blowing my money and less time hassling me.
And three: she was no longer a little girl clutching a baby doll. No. These days, Allison Banks was all woman. She had a stellar body with gorgeous curves and breasts most women paid good money for.
Looking down at the sleeping beauty at my side, my eyes roamed over the soft swells under her top, and my body tightened. My father had been right. All signs of the little girl she used to be were gone. I could still remember the first time I saw her after the marriage talk with my father.
I had gone to Lux with a few friends, and she had been there, clubbing with two of her girlfriends and wearing clothes that left nothing to the imagination. Her eyes were glassy as if she had spent the better part of the night drinking, and she was hanging on Jefferson Wayne, an old high school buddy of mine. I had stepped in, bought her next drink, and the rest was history.
That was six months ago, and in those six months, my feelings for Allison hadn’t changed. I wasn’t sure if I would ever love her, but then again, I wasn’t positive I could ever love any woman. Still, business was business, and as far as I was concerned, once we got home from our honeymoon, she could do whatever the hell she wanted as long as she wasn’t running around and sleeping with every dick in town. I liked sex as much as the next man, but as long as she remained faithful, I supposed I would do the same.
Sex.
I had never had sex with Allison, which was comical, considering I had been a bit of a whore in my life. How I managed to marry the one woman I had never slept with was beyond me, but she hadn’t pushed for sex, and neither had I.
It was complicated.
