Joshua Wilkins: Arranged Marriage

Chapter 3: Lydia

“Oh god, yes!” My hand found his hair, clenching it in my fist. My legs spread wider as I pushed him further in. I threw my head back, enjoying the sensation of Max between my legs.

His grip around my hips tightened. His hot, wet tongue slid through my folds, touching my bud and caressing it. He groaned against me, making me smirk at the sensation.

This was just what I needed.

It had been almost two weeks since my father and I had that conversation at Olympus. Since then, I had been swamped with work. Sebastian Phillip had been a drama queen at lunch, Derek had been annoyed by the inconvenience, and my father had reached out again, saying my brother prolonged his honeymoon yet again.

Two fingers slid into me, breaking my thoughts. A moan escaped my lips as I looked down at him. His brown eyes looked right back at me, filled with lust and anticipation. This was what I used Max for, release. A release he brought with him so easily.

His fingers bent inside me, pumping me into a frenzy. “Don’t stop!” His tongue kept at it, splitting my folds, touching my bud, igniting the fire within me. He found the spot, the sweet spot that did me dirty, and with a flicker of his tongue, I came undone.

He stood from his kneeling position with a smug grin on his face. My breathing was uncontrolled, heaving with pleasure and post-orgasm relaxation. “Wipe that grin off your face, Max.”

“Oh, I must insist now,” his grin only widened, “you should call me god in all aspects of our conversation.”

I rolled my eyes at him before scooting off the counter. “And with that, my friend, you just lost an orgasm.”

I pushed past him and bent down to get my underwear. In just an hour, I would be standing in the living room of my parents, making small talk. It would be hell, but it would be the good kind of socializing; it always was. My father only presented me with top quality, and he never let me down that way. It made the dinners incredibly valuable because the learning experience was all I wanted.

“Come on, princess,” he tried to bargain, “it was just a joke.”

“I’m late, Max,” I looked back at him, “I have to be at my parents' house soon.”

His white button-down shirt was halfway unbuttoned, his hair an even greater mess than usual, and he looked absolutely stunning. I took a step closer to him and kissed him before leaning back. “We don’t want to evoke the fury that is Brian Conner.”

A hint of something else graced his eyes. A hint of something I couldn’t place. But I knew I didn’t like it; I knew his chocolate brown eyes shouldn’t look like that.

“Right,” he nodded, clenching his jaw. “We can’t have you being seen with someone like me.”

“Max,” I groaned, grabbing his chin. “You knew this,” I looked into his eyes, searching for confirmation, “you knew going into this thing with me that it would only be this. Amazing s*x, godlike orgasms,” I smiled at the last part, which made his mouth tug. “Come on, you think it’s hot, don’t you?” I teased him, “sneaking around with me like this.”

He grabbed my face before roughly pressing his lips onto mine. I happily followed his rhythm, followed his lead. His firm lips molded into mine, as if he thought this would be our last kiss, as if this was the last time seeing me. A moan slipped from my lips before he released me.

“You owe me an orgasm,” he then teased, and I knew we were good to go again. I knew whatever it was I saw in those eyes, it was gone and had turned into the Max I knew. The Max who joked, the Max who laughed, the Max who made me joke and laugh.

“I’ll get back to you on that.” I straightened out my dress again before heading out of the supply closet we had just been in. Being with Max on his break was useful; it got me a quick orgasm without having to talk or linger longer than I wanted.

I snuck out of Olympus, hoping nobody saw me. Knowing we could be caught this way was hot, it made the whole thing a lot steamier and made me come back for seconds every time.

As I climbed into the back of my car, Leon gave me a knowing look before we headed towards the Conner place. Leon knew everything about me because he drove me everywhere I needed to go, but I could trust him. Leon had been my chauffeur since the end of college, which meant he had known me my entire career.

I flicked down the mirror in the back of the car and looked at myself. My strawberry blonde hair was a little messy. It flowed down to my midriff in soft waves, but I mostly kept it up, not wanting everybody to see my hair or be able to touch it. I pulled it out of the bun before starting to braid it. With a few bobby pins, it was quickly gathered into a new, more formal kind of bun and didn’t look like I had just had s*x.

I touched up my makeup a little, adding some eyeshadow in a pink tone, which made them look fresher and not like I only sleep five hours every night. My green eyes stood out, looking sharp as ever. I pulled up a gloss to cover my lips, which made them shinier but also gave them some depth.

The light jacket at my side provided a little heat, but not enough to suffocate me in the slow heating of New York in late March. My dress was luckily already wrinkled as a part of the design, which made it less likely that anybody would notice. My two-inch stilettos gave me some extra height, leaving me at five foot ten inches. I was taller than most, which was why I never wore taller heels.

As we drove through the spring of New York, I couldn’t help but notice the few, those we all hated unless we were a part of that group. The lovestruck people, the people in love, or the idiots, as my father would say.

Love is a weakness, not a strength.

Only Brian Conner would say that, just before he started a campaign to run the newest romance novel. My father believed in sense and in logic; love didn’t cave to either. He married my mother for the contacts; she knew and got the most out of it she could. Marriage isn’t all love; it’s a partnership. But what if I wanted both?

My phone suddenly rang loudly. When I picked it up, I couldn’t help but smile at the name. Kathleen. My best friend since college, a young woman with a feisty way of seeing life and its obstacles, which made her my go-to after an evening at the Conner home.

“What’s up?” I asked as I answered the phone.

“The sky, hopefully,” her dad joke made me roll my eyes, “are you heading there now?”

“Soon arriving at hell, table for four.” I said in my customer service voice. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

“That’s why we’re getting drunk after.” I couldn’t help the chuckle that slid from my lips. Of course, we were getting drunk. “I’ll be waiting at the Howling Duck.”

The Howling Duck was a trashy place, but Kathleen didn’t make the money I did, which meant she had to take the cheaper option. I loved going with her anyway because even though the bar was trashy, the company was great.

“Hopefully, I’ll be there by nine, ten at the latest!” She laughed at the other end before we said our goodbyes.

The tall building came into view, and we stopped in front of the home of the Conners. My mother and father lived in a big penthouse apartment at the top. As I stepped out of the car, I slung my purse over my shoulder and folded the jacket over my arms. 6:34. I’m already late, and I know how my dad will react when he sees me. He will think I don’t take this seriously, even though I’m the kid who does.

I went past the doorman into the lobby, where I quickly greeted the receptionist before pushing the elevator button. Going all the way to the top was frightening but also exhilarating. I loved to come home and visit my mother; I loved talking shop with my dad, but I hated the dinner parties. It was exhausting and excruciating to smile at the men, to listen to them babble on and on about insignificant things when I knew the significant things to bring up. But I knew it would be impolite, so I kept my mouth shut and let them talk.

When I knocked on the door to the penthouse, I felt an unnerving feeling in my gut. Like this wasn’t going to end well and this was a bad decision. Like I should turn around and leave right now before it was too late.

I knocked on the door before Mira opened it up. My mother only hired help for these types of things, and she always hired Mira. “Good evening, Miss Conner.”

I gave her my jacket and purse before heading towards the living room of the penthouse. The white furniture almost looked tacky, in my opinion, but my mother loved it. She loved how clean everything looked, and my dad just let her buy whatever she needed, as long as she was mildly happy. The big couches filled up the living room, centering a glass coffee table in the middle, where you could put your carefully mixed drinks. The floor-to-ceiling windows opened up the space and faced west where the sun was setting.

“Honey!” My mother opened up her arms wide enough that I couldn’t get out of the hug.

“Mom,” I greeted, before I let her engulf me in a big hug.

My mother looked exactly like me, just older. How it went over my father, I do not know. My brother looks like a replica of him. She was dressed in a royal blue evening dress, looking way more fabulous than she normally did for a night like this.

“You look perfect,” she smiled at me before she started tugging a little on my hair, making a few strands come down and surround my face.

“Then why are you changing it?” I asked jokingly, as she straightened my dress and looked me up and down.

“I—”

“Lydia,” my father interrupted, “come.”

With that, I was summoned, summoned to the office where we would have the talk. Talking about who was coming, and how I should use it to my advantage. We went into the stylish office, very low maintenance and minimalistic. It only had what it needed, exactly like my dad liked it.

“I find it almost impossible that you can keep people to yourself,” I tried lifting the mood a little, “I mean I should know everyone in the publishing field by now.”

“This is not a business meeting per se,” my father sat down, gesturing to the chair in front of the table. I sat down on the white leather chair as I looked at my father in his customary dark green suit, with a weird feeling growing in my stomach. “This is not easy to say, and I don’t know how to say it properly.”

“Just spit it out, father,” I pressured. My father always knew what to say, he always got his way, and I’d never in my soon-to-be twenty-five years seen him nervous.

“You’re getting married.” His dark eyes met mine, obviously curious to see my reaction.

You’re getting married. It echoed in my mind, but it didn’t seem like the words festered. Instead, I looked at the desk. I saw the unread manuscripts in one pile and the read ones with notes on the other side. I saw the figurine standing on the front of the desk, the small triangular item I couldn’t place as something I knew. I knew it intrigued me, and therefore my glance always landed on it.

“Lydia?” His question lingered in the room, almost sounding like it was too far away, like he was asking me something but I was underwater.

“No,” was all that came out. It was the only thing I could think of saying.

Getting married.

I had known I would have to settle down at some point. I knew I had to get kids and follow the rules pitched by the society we lived in, but that was not yet. Henry had gotten another timeline. I have to marry before I’m thirty. I remember it as clear as day: he had gotten the news and looked like he might die, but he found his true love; he got his happy ending.

Automatically, I figured I had until my thirtieth birthday too, and I wasn’t even twenty-five yet. I thought I had plenty of time to settle, to find a man, and be happy. To have all I wanted. Right now, I was just working. Sure, I was f*****g Max too, but that wasn’t love; that was business, just like this had been meant to be.

Married.

“I’m not thirty yet.” I found my father’s eyes and saw the look in them. He was baffled too. “I still have time, I still have—”

“He sought me out,” he elaborated, “I wouldn’t have accepted, except this is a magical offer, Lydia. It’s everything we could ever want for you.”

“We or you?” The anger started to rise within me. I knew what he wanted; he wanted the best deal. He would rather sell off his daughter to get further with business.

“Lydia,” this time my name sounded more like a plea than anything else. “Trust me, this is a good match for you too.”

“I don’t want to get married,” I stood abruptly, “I want to run the company. I’ve been working so hard for so long, and now before I can make a name for myself, you’re going to sell me off to the highest bidder?”

Anger ran through me, firing my words, making them come out fast and burn brighter. I grabbed onto the feeling, hating how it felt in my body. I hated being angry, but this was my life, and now my father wanted to take even more control.

“Lydia! Calm down!” He stood too, looking at me with the same intensity, but I didn’t care. In that moment, I was not afraid of the wildfire that was Brian Conner; I was afraid of losing myself.

“I will not calm down! You cannot take away my decisions like this!” My fists clenched so hard I felt my nails digging into the skin. “I do not have time to become a wife! I want to work!”

When I was supposed to become a wife, it would be after I had my career. It would be on my terms, with a man I wanted by my side.

“And maybe this is the way you show how much you value the company.” His tone flattened again, trying to calm me instead of making it worse by yelling back at me.

“What do you mean?” Confusion took over the anger. What did he mean? How could I show that by getting tied down?

He sat down and motioned for me to do the same. I tried to calm myself, tried to take deep breaths, but nothing worked. “If you get this deal, Lydia,” my father started as he folded his fingers under his chin, “you will not only show me but all the board members, how much you are willing to do for the company, and then the only right action from me and them will be to make you the next CEO of Conner Books.”

I leaned back in my chair. Almost as if the words shot me. If you get this deal. I’ve always been good at landing deals. I’ve always been good at getting what I wanted. I inherited that from my father.

“Who is it?” Who could probably be such a good catch—such a good deal—that it would grant me the position of CEO?

“Joshua Wilkins.” My father’s face fell into serious folds as he leaned back also.

“The tech guy?!” I couldn’t believe it. Joshua Wilkins?!

“Yeah,” a deep voice came from behind me, “the tech guy.”