A Dangerous Contract
1273 Words
Josephine Brooks
“We’ve only been married for less than six hours for goodness sake!” I whispered.
The door bell rang again and I grabbed Nikolai.
“f**k. What do married couples do?”
“Oh God.” I spun around, panic rising fast. “What do we do? We’re not ready. The guest room still has my suitcases open. We look like roommates, not newlyweds.”
Nikolai moved fast. “Act natural. Couples don’t stand ten feet apart.” He grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the living room. His grip was firm, warm. My skin tingled where his fingers wrapped around mine.
“Okay. We’re newly weds so we have to look like we couldn’t wait to devour each other. The first thing people expect is that we can’t keep our hands off each other. We need to look like we were just about to have sex.”
His eyes widened. “Josephine—”
“No time to argue,” I cut in, stepping close until my chest nearly brushed his.
I hesitated for half a second, then reached up and started unbuttoning his shirt, fingers moving fast. One button. Two. Three. I left it halfway open, exposing the hard lines of his chest and the dark hair there. My knuckles brushed his skin. It was warm, smooth, and far too tempting.
“Mess up my hair,” I ordered.
Nikolai’s breath hitched. His fingers slid into my hair, gripping just tight enough to send a shiver down my spine.
He tugged lightly, angling my face up toward his. Our bodies pressed closer. I could feel the solid wall of his chest against my breasts, the way his open shirt let heat radiate between us.
My hands moved to my own dress. I unbuttoned the top few buttons, letting the fabric gape open just enough to show the lace edge of my bra and the curve of my cleavage.
“Okay that should do it. Now it looks like we’ve been very busy. Do we sit on the couch? Stand close?”
He stepped behind me and slid one arm around my waist, pulling my back against his chest. The move was sudden. His body heat seeped through my thin dress. I could feel the hard line of his chest, the way his forearm rested just below my breasts. “Put your hand on my arm. Look relaxed.”
I tried. My fingers landed awkwardly on his sleeve. “Not like that. Lower.” His voice was low, rough. He adjusted my hand himself, pressing my palm flat against his stomach. The muscles there tensed under my touch. I swallowed hard.
His other hand stayed on my waist, fingers splayed wide. Every breath I took made my back brush his front. I could smell his cologne.
“This feels weird,” I whispered.
“Too bad. Sell it.” His breath brushed my ear.
I hated how aware I was of him, his height, the way his thumb unconsciously stroked the side of my waist, the solid press of his body against mine.
The doorbell rang a third time.
Nikolai cursed under his breath. “Ready?”
“No,” I said, but he was already moving us toward the door.
He opened it with me still tucked against his side, his arm never leaving my waist.
Arthur looked apologetic. “Sorry again for the late calls. We won’t take much of your time,” Arthur continued. “Just confirming the address for documentation purposes. The board requires accurate records of residence.”
I forced a smile, leaning into Nikolai like it was the most natural thing in the world. My heart was still racing. “Of course.”
“Congratulations again. We’ll see you soon.” Arthur said and wished us a goodnight before leaving with the stern looking woman he came with.
We stood close together and waved them goodbye and then closed the front door.
As soon as the door closed, I let out a shaky breath
I turned to him, his hands still below my boobs. “We nearly had a heart attack over an address check and a walkthrough? My God, Nikolai, I thought they were going to demand to watch us sleep!”
He ran a hand through his hair, looking as rattled as I felt. “Welcome to your mother’s trust. They don’t play around.”
My eyes dropped to his waist when his shirt rose as he lifted his hand to his hair, his briefs peeking out.
I suddenly realized that we were still so close. I cleared my throat.
“You can stop touching me now,” I said, crossing my arms. My voice came out sharper than I meant. “We’re not performing anymore.”
Nikolai’s eyes darkened. “You didn’t seem to mind a minute ago.”
“I was acting.” I lifted my chin. “Don’t get any ideas. I still can’t stand you.”
A slow, dangerous smile tugged at his lips. “Good. Because the feeling is mutual, princess. You’re still the same spoiled, sharp-tongued girl who caused me headaches eight years ago.”
My cheeks heated. “And you’re still the arrogant ass”
We glared at each other. For a second I thought he might step closer again. Instead, he exhaled harshly. “We need to make this place look lived-in before the next surprise visit. Move some of your clothes into my wardrobe. Give me a couple of your pillows. Scatter your things in the bathroom.”
“Fine,” I snapped, glad for something practical to do.
I grabbed an armful of my clothes from the guest room and carried them into his master bedroom. The space smelled like him, that same cologne mixed with clean sheets.
I opened his massive wardrobe and started hanging my dresses next to his suits. The contrast looked strangely intimate.
My fingers brushed one of his shirts. Soft, expensive fabric. I yanked my hand back like it burned.
The contrast looked strangely intimate. My dresses against his suits. Like we actually shared something
Nikolai appeared with two of my pillows. He tossed them onto the bed. “These stay here now.”
Finally, the rooms looked convincing. Our things were mixed together in a way that screamed shared life.
I stood in the master bedroom doorway, arms crossed. “There. Now it looks like we’ve been f*****g in here for weeks.”
The words slipped out. Nikolai’s head snapped toward me. His gaze dropped to my mouth, then lower, tracing the line of my body.
Before either of us could say something, I heard my phone chime from the living room.
I walked out his bedroom. It better not be Mark using another number to text me after I blocked him.
Suddenly he wanted to change for me, learn for me after hearing about my trust fund. And then they call women gold diggers.
I picked up my phone and the screen lit up. The notification was a new email from an unknown sender.
I opened it and it read:
Subject line:
Congratulations on your marriage.
I frowned, no one else knew that I was ‘married’ except Arthur.
I read the body: Congratulations, Josephine. You have no idea who you just married. Ask him what happened in New York.
I blinked as I read the message again.
What happened in New York?
What kind of message was this? Who even was this?
God, don’t tell me this man had a secret family or worse I’m about to be in a crime documentary.
- Writer
