The Convenient Wife (A BWWM Steamy Marriage of Convenience Romance) (13 page)

I’d been married to Dorian for a few
weeks, and the only thing casting a dark cloud over our honeymoon period was my
father.

He wasn’t doing anything directly,
and the problem was the same one I’d been dealing with for a while now. Dad was
a drunk, a barely-functioning alcoholic, and leaving him to his own devices was
never good. Especially not for weeks on end.

Dad was asking questions. Totally
reasonable ones, but for which I still had no good answers. Like, “When’re you
comin’ home, baby?” and “Where you spendin’ all your time, these days?”
Questions any father would ask.

I couldn’t tell him I was married.
He’d be devastated. After all, he hadn’t exactly been invited. And I think part
of me knew that, even though he was sauced half the time, he’d still find a way
to see right through me. He’d know the marriage was a bit… Non-traditional. I
couldn’t take the disappointment in my daddy’s eyes, not even after he’d
disappointed me so many times.

I couldn’t lie to him forever,
either. And I couldn’t just leave him alone. Last time I’d done that, he’d
almost burned the place down when he fell asleep while cooking up a midnight
snack—of course, he’d just stumbled home drunk.

The only option that I really had
was the one I didn’t want to actually consider—a seniors’ facility. I’d seen
too many lawsuits filed against facility after facility for negligence, abuse,
and in the case of more than a few women,
rape.
A curling feeling of nausea wriggled around in the pit of my stomach as I
recalled pictures of unmaintained rooms, clogged toilets, bedsores, and disgusting
food. I couldn’t send my father to a place like that, not ever.

With my student loans taken care of,
I still had some money left—quite a good bit of money—but not enough to afford
the kind of care that my father really needed. For that, I’d need more money
than I could manage without Dorian finding out.

I glanced up from my laptop toward
the bedroom door, hoping that I hadn’t just heard him coming home. Dorian had
no idea about my father, and I wasn’t in any mood to tell him, either. His
mother’s words still echoed through my head whenever the thought of asking him
for money came up. She’d called me an embarrassment, something to be ashamed
of, or worse, someone who would ruin Dorian’s family name—and I didn’t want her
to be right.

Shit, my own brother had abandoned
us because Dad was such a disappointment to him. What would a man like Dorian
think if he found out about the drunken head of our family tree?

But would Dorian actually help if I
told him about my dad? Would he be upset that I hadn’t told him sooner? Or
worse, what if he said no to lending me the money? I felt my stomach twisting
into knots the more I thought about it.

But how long would I be able to lie
to him? An alcoholic father wasn’t something I’d be able to hide forever,
especially when Dorian eventually wanted to meet my family and our child’s grandfather
after it was born. I swallowed around the lump in my throat, rubbing the bridge
of my nose in frustration. How was I going to make this work?

I turned my attention back to my
screen, scrolling through the listings for the top-rated assisted living
facilities. If my father
had
to be
put somewhere, then it had better be the best place money could buy. He
deserved the best care. He was a vet. He’d served our country, served
us.
He’d protected our freedoms. This
was the very least anyone could do for him.

“Not enough supervision, too small,
too many lawsuits,” I sighed, crossing one care facility after another off the
list of possible options. One of them caught my eye, however.

Summer Harbor Care Center was one of
the few care facilities on the list with nothing but good reviews and not a
single black mark on its record in terms of legal trouble. Curious, I clicked
the link and found myself on the nicest-looking webpage of any other senior
center.

I clicked through gorgeous,
professional pictures of spacious, one-room apartments with their own kitchens
for the more able-bodied seniors. There were others of expansive exercise areas
and an enormous pool. A note underneath the pictures mentioned weekly water
aerobics and a lap pool for more serious swimmers. My father didn’t swim, but
it made me feel more confident about the place.

The problem, once again, was money.
I had
none. Not yet. So if
wanted to give my father the care that he needed then I’d have to
ask
Dorian for the money.

I
don’t want him to be disappointed
,
I thought, nervously twisting the sheets up in my hand. How was he supposed to
react to finding out that I had a drunk for a father? And what if he found out
that I’d lied about it? Maybe not directly, but a lie of omission was still a
lie.

I
want him to be
proud
of me,
I thought.

I blinked, a frown forming on my
face. When had I started to care so much what Dorian thought of me? I mean, I
liked Dorian, and after these last couple of weeks he actually proved himself
to not be the total asshole I’d been expecting him to be—in fact, he was quite
the gentleman despite a few snarky remarks. But was this actually working?

The sex certainly was incredible,
and while I’d never admit it to anyone, I was enjoying just how frequent it had
become. We were working hard at making a baby, and I couldn’t deny I was loving
the effort on his part—and he never made it boring. Dorian was the most
thoughtful, generous, and
considerate
lover I’d ever had. In the past two weeks, I don’t think I’d ever climaxed as much
in my life as I did in that short span of time. I was practically delirious
after every one of our sessions, and more times than not, I ended up passed out
with my arms wrapped around him.

There was an intimacy there between
us, one I hadn’t expected, one that ran even deeper than sex. Dorian listened
to me. He wanted my opinions. He
valued
what I had to say, both in and out of the bedroom. And he took me pretty much
everywhere, like he was proud to have me hanging off his arm.

The thought of our most recent round
of lovemaking made my bite down on my lip a bit, my heart fluttering. In truth,
it only made those feelings more conflicting.

I was starting to wonder how much of
a good idea this agreement was, especially if this turned into some kind of
actual romantic relationship. Would Dorian jump at the chance to be free of me,
knowing that once our marriage was over he could go back to his life of
partying and drinking? The thought of it made my heart ache. And what about our
child? I knew he would support it financially, but having it—or them—grow up
without a consistent father in their lives didn’t sound appealing in the
slightest.

I rubbed my face, my emotions
clouding over my thoughts as Dorian’s face floated before my mind’s eye. I
hated to admit it, but I’d find myself watching him, a smile creeping onto my
face when he wasn’t looking. I’d actually started to feel
happy
around him, and that made me all the more frightened of what
would happen when this all fell apart.

I didn’t want that to happen.

I’ll
get the money myself
, I
thought, brushing a strand of hair from in front of my eyes.
He doesn’t need to know how bad of a mess my
life is. It’s not his problem
.

“Gigi?” came Dorian’s voice from the
other side of the door.

I looked up just in time to see
Dorian opening the door and stepping inside, a warm smile on his face and two
cups of Starbucks in his hand.

My heart raced as I tried my best
not to slam the screen of my laptop down to cover up what I was doing. I’d been
in incognito mode so in case he ever used it—or God forbid, went searching
through my browser history—nothing concerning my father would show up.

“Thought you’d like a little
something to wake you up,” he said, sitting down beside me and handing me a cup
of coffee.

“You went out for coffee? Don’t you
have an espresso machine?”

“I do, but I never learned to use
it,” he confessed, taking a sip from his cup, “Not my smartest purchase, but I
don’t make
smart
purchases often.”

“Thanks,” I said, pulling the laptop
off of my lap and setting it on the floor. I could almost feel him wondering
what I had been looking at. Was I giving something away? Could he tell that I
was keeping something from him? I swallowed thickly as my pulse began to beat
against my skull.

“Doing some work on your laptop?” he
asked, watching as I slid it underneath the bed. He was smiling, but there was
something else there. I knew I’d been distant, but all I could think of was my
father, knowing that in a few days they would repossess his house.

“No, just surfing the internet,” I
said, trying to play down my concerns, the way that I wanted to cry with the
stress of keeping my father off of the streets. “You know, nothing exciting.”

I rolled onto my back and off of
Gigi, my eyes closed and a smile on my face. Ever since we’d gotten married, the
two of us had been having sex like we were the last two human beings on the
planet—and I certainly wasn’t complaining, at least not about the sex. Gigi was
an animal in bed, an absolute firecracker, and as much as I hated to admit it,
I was having a hard time keeping up.

“You’re certainly giving me a run
for my money,” I said, my voice breathy. Despite our lovemaking having a
singular purpose in conceiving an heir, the two of us never let that stop us
from enjoying our time together. Gigi was a fantastic lover, and even though
she confessed to not having an abundance of partners, she always knew exactly
what to do to make me see stars.

Normally after sex she’d at least
have a smile on her face, but today something seemed off—no, not just today. Gigi
had been acting strange ever since I walked in on her with her laptop.

“You’re not so bad yourself.”

She didn’t look at me, her gaze cast
out toward the window, her expression thoughtful and distant. I couldn’t shake
the feeling that something was wrong, something that she just refused to tell
me anything about. Was she having second thoughts about the deal? Was it
something I had done?

Worry infested my thoughts. I
wondered if that deep down, Gigi really didn’t want any of this—didn’t want me.
I heaved a sigh, running my fingers in my hair before turning my gaze back over
to her as she sat up, her arms crossed over her breasts, protecting them from
my gaze, keeping me at a distance.

“Everything all right?” I asked,
unable to mask my frown.

“Fine,” she said curtly, not even
sparing me a glance. I felt a cold sensation in my stomach, and I knew that
something wasn’t right. “Couldn’t be better.”

I grazed my fingers over her bare
shoulder. “You’re sure? You look like you have something on your mind.”

“Yeah, Dorian. Don’t worry about it,
I’m just thinking,” she said, this time sparing me a glance and a half-smile.
The more she assured me that everything was fine, the less fine it felt. She
wasn’t telling me something, and it bothered me to no end. We’d only been
married a short time, but I’d felt a bond growing between us ever since the
moment we’d kissed, a connection that I actually wanted to strengthen.

“All right, then,” I said as I
pulled the covers off of myself. “I’m going to get myself something to drink.
Do you want anything?”

“No… thanks.”

It would have felt better if she’d
yelled at me.

“Right,” I sighed, getting out of
bed. I threw my robe on over my naked body, glancing back at her as she
continued her pensive staring out the window. Her thoughts weren’t here, with
me, and it made me nervous.

I left the bedroom, wrapping the
belt around my waist as I let the door softly click closed behind me.
Everything was so silent as I walked through the living room and to my overly
spacious kitchen. I visited this place so infrequently that I almost felt like
I was a stranger in someone else’s home. I glanced out at the late morning sun,
watching it glint off the tall mirrored towers that made up all of downtown.

I remembered why I never came here
as the silence drew in around me, why I always surrounded myself with countless
faces I’d never remember by the next morning—I was afraid of being alone. And
for the first time since I actually met Gigi, I felt alone again. I sighed,
grabbing my water and heading back toward the master bedroom.

Just before I reached the handle,
the soft
ding
of my elevator made me
stop short. I turned my head, drawing my hand back as I went over to
investigate.

My maid was only here every other
week since I used the penthouse so little, and there were only a handful of
people in the world who even had a key—none of whom I wanted to see right now,
especially
my mother. The woman I found,
however, was definitely not my maid, and
certainly
not my mother.

“Hi,
baby!”

Harmony Van Holden was a stunning
bombshell of a blonde. Long legs, a perfect hourglass figure, and tits that
could sink a ship if she ever had a mind to show them off to a busy helmsman.
She and I had known one another since we were in our preteens, and she had even
been my first kiss—among other things. Harmony was an heiress to the Van Holden
fortune, and growing up, everyone assumed we’d end up together. They were dead
wrong. The instant I had my hormones in check, I realized how empty headed she
really was. And of course, there were the older men I caught her sleeping with
on the side…

“Harmony,” I said, frowning as I
noted the rather ostentatious—if stylish—trench coat that covered her up from
her neck to her knees. “You don’t have a key to my penthouse.”

“I missed you,” she said, her voice
taking on a whining tone as she protruded her lips in a pout. “Didn’t you miss
me, sweetie?”

“Can’t say that I have… How did you
get a key to the elevator, Harmony?” I asked, raising my voice just a bit. I
wasn’t exactly amused by where this was going, especially with Gigi in the
other room.

“Didn’t you give me one?” she asked,
a coy smile on her lips as she tried to walk farther into the penthouse. I put
myself in her way, looking into her eyes.

“That was almost ten years ago. You
need to leave.”

“But I just got here, baby! Don’t
you want to catch up? For old time’s sake? Have a little fun?” she grinned and
bit her lip. I could smell the vodka on her breath. “You still have all of
those rooms, right? I just miss those days when we’d fuck in each and every one
of them.”

“Harmony—” I started to say, but as
I opened my mouth she darted past me, her heels clicking loudly on the marble
floor.

“Oh, Dorian, I’ve missed this
place!”

“Harmony. Give me the key and
leave
. You should not be—” I couldn’t
finish before she spun toward me, pulling the lapels of her trench coat wide
and shrugging it off of her shoulders with a flourish.

Harmony stood in all of her glory in
the middle of my living room, wearing a sheer, black lace babydoll, her bountiful
breasts barely contained by the just-as-sheer cups of the lingerie that did
nothing to hide her familiar, puffy pink nipples. Just below, the bottom of her
babydoll hid a skimpy, matching thong, the crotch of which was practically
see-through and damp.

“Do you
really
want me to go, sweetie?” she asked, her voice dipping into a
sultry purr as she took a few steps closer. “I know how
lonely
you are up here by yourself. I’ve thought about you so much
over the years…”

“You mean before or after you fucked
half the fortune five-hundred?”

“That’s no way to talk to a girl
who’s trying to do you a favor. Your mother said you still had feelings for
me,” she said with a pout.

“My mother put you up to this?” I
asked, my brow furrowing as rage swept up to replace confusion. “She told you
to come here?”

“Aren’t you glad she did, though? I
can’t stand the thought of you all alone up here by yourself, moping and
frowning when you get into one of your moods.” Harmony came closer, reaching
out toward the belt of my robe to start to untie me. “I know just how to fix
this.”

I pushed her hand aside and took a
step back, putting some distance between me and my horny ex-girlfriend.

“Leave. I won’t ask you again,” I
said.

“That didn’t sound like asking,
baby. I like it when you get all
demanding.
”

Harmony giggled and once again tried
to close the distance between us, lunging once more for my belt before I pushed
her away. I almost couldn’t believe that my mother would stoop this low—almost.
By now, she would have found out about my and Gigi’s pre-nup, bribed some
lawyer at the firm we’d used to get her hands on the contract and learn all
about our little agreement.

“Harmony, we are
not
doing this right now,” I said,
getting angrier the longer she kept up her little game. I was not in the mood
for one of my mother’s schemes, not with Gigi acting the way she was. “Pick up
your coat and—”

“What’s going on?” came Gigi’s voice
from the door to my bedroom. “Who’s this, Dorian?”

“Who am
I?”
Harmony asked, turning her head to look at Gigi in one of my
spare silk robes. “Who the hell are you? And what’re you doing in
my
boyfriend’s penthouse?”

“I’m not in your boyfriend’s
penthouse,” Gigi said, her eyes narrowing. “You’re in my
husband
penthouse. And mine.”

The way she claimed me, and the space
we shared together, made my heart leap for just a moment. But then I saw the
look on her face, the hot simmer of her anger, and dread washed over me
instead.

“Gigi,” I began, but a cold look
from her cut my forthcoming apology short. I elected for an explanation
instead. “This is Harmony. Harmony and I used to date a long time ago, and
Harmony is
very
drunk. She was just
about to leave, weren’t you, Harmony?”

The confused look on my drunken ex’s
face would’ve been comical, if it weren’t for the load of shit I was definitely
about to catch for all of this. Without a word, I bent down and snatched up
Harmony’s coat from the floor, shoving it into her hands and guiding her to the
elevator doors. Just before they opened, I halted her, holding out my hand.

“Give me the key, Harmony.”

She pouted, digging in her coat
pocket and handing me a silver and gold cardkey before turning away from me and
stomping into the elevator.

“Can’t believe you’d say no to
this,”
she said as the doors closed. “So
what if you’re married? I’ve fucked married men before. Call me when you change
your mind, Dorian.”

I sighed, rubbing the palms of my
hands over my face as I walked back toward the living room where Gigi was
waiting for me, her arms crossed over her chest and her face a mask of anger
and annoyance.

“We had a deal, Dorian,” she
growled.

“Yes, I’m aware of the deal,” I shot
back, going on the defensive. She couldn’t honestly think that I was actually
going to cheat on her while she was in the next room, could she?

She scowled, though it was less
menacing than I’d expected. “I meant the part of the agreement that
I
came up with. The one where you don’t
stick your
dick
in every floozy who
walks through the door. Remember?”

I narrowed my eyes at her, utterly
incredulous that she’d accuse
me
of
cheating when she’d been the one all this time acting like she was a million
miles away. For all I knew, she was talking to some boyfriend over the internet
when I’d walked in the other day.

“Of course I remember. I’m not the
one acting all suspicious lately, Georgia.”

I should’ve shut my mouth. I
should’ve just let this all go. But all the women in my life were screwing with
me, it seemed, and I wasn’t going to get played for a fool. Not by the only one
out of the whole lot of them I trusted.

Gigi glared at me silently for a
moment, her mouth open. Then her cheeks darkened and she took a step back like
just being in my presence disgusted her.