The Convenient Wife (A BWWM Steamy Marriage of Convenience Romance) (4 page)

Six weeks had passed since the
funeral, and I was as unhappy as I’ve ever been. The loss of my Grandfather hit
me harder than I expected, but it was the mess he’d left behind that was
ruining my life.

“Mr. Lambert?”

I hated that name now more than
ever. It was mine now, and it just felt wrong. I glanced up at the young
secretary standing in the doorway. She was a perky redhead perched atop a three
inch pair of heels and she still barely topped five foot four. Today she’d
chosen to wear a more revealing blouse than usual, dipping low between her
unnaturally large breasts in an inviting way. I looked away, careful not to
linger too long. She was playing the same game all of them were, and I didn’t
like it.

“Yes Miss Chambers,” I replied,
eager to be alone again.

“Your four thirty just cancelled.”

I spun round in my chair and pounded
my hand on the desk. That was the third cancellation this week. Nobody would
have cancelled on my grandfather, but these assholes knew I was only here on a
temporary basis. After his death, I was forced to step in as the acting
president of the company, but with my mother still in charge of the largest
block of voting shares—
my
shares,
held in trust until I could provide an heir—I couldn’t even begin to bring my
father’s company back from the pit she’d driven it into.

And of course, what little power I
had, she aimed to take from me. The board was ready to vote in a new CEO, and
she made it clear it wasn’t going to be me. Soon I’d be back to my old life, living
off monthly trust disbursements at least until the year was up and I was found
single and childless… Then, I didn’t know what I’d do. I hadn’t exactly planned
for all of this. I had no investments in my name. Even the mansion I lived in
was just a piece of property held by the family corporation.

At least I wasn’t going to die in
this chair like my grandfather did.

I glanced up at the clock and felt a
cool chill roll over me.

“That will be all, Miss Chambers,” I
said, closing my eyes and putting my throbbing head in my hands. There wasn’t
much else to say. I could hear the click and lock of the door, and the click
clack of heels moving across the marble floor.

“Mr. Lambert, you look very
stressed,” she whispered, bringing herself closer. I could feel the heat
radiating off her body as she pressed up against my arm. “Is there
anything
I can do for you?” she asked.

And there it was, Grandpa’s
other
gift.

I tried to press her away, but she
was undeterred, her hand snaking down against my tailored Italian suit, finding
itself pressing against the other part of me that was now throbbing. And why
shouldn’t it be? I’d never been afraid to use my wealth to have a little fun.
It’s not like those girls at my parties would be there if I was Chad from
accounting. Miss Chambers was a stunningly beautiful little minx that I would
have had no qualms about taking to bed just a few months ago…

She let out a little gasp of
surprise as I pulled her hand from my thigh, sharply setting it down against
the curve of her hip.

“I said, that will be
all
, Miss Chambers.”

I watched her closely as she made
her way out of the office with a hint of anger in her step, closing the big
heavy wooden doors behind her. That’s how they all acted now, ever since my
mother decided to leak the terms of my inheritance to the press. Everyone
assumed I must be desperately seeking a wife, and the women I surrounded myself
in my past life weren’t exactly shy about chasing the money.

Mother probably thought she was
helping things along by making me the most eligible bachelor in the country. At
any other time in my life I probably would have enjoyed this, but now it seemed
to bring about a wave of dread inside me.

I knew why I was feeling this way.

I pulled out my smartphone, flipping
through the contacts absentmindedly, stopping on the short and simple entry I
was looking for.

Gigi
.

The saying goes, you only want the
things you can’t have… The man who said that wasn’t a billionaire, because
there wasn’t a thing on this damn planet I couldn’t have.

But Gigi was more
than just a
thing
…

She intrigued me right from the
start. Ethical, strong willed, funny… I liked her, and not just because she
stood up to me about modifying the terms of the will. My wealth didn’t seem to
effect her. She was different from the other women in my life. In the short time
I knew Gigi, I did all the chasing. The night of that fateful phone call, I was
so damn close to
having
her.

Maybe that would have helped get her
out of my damn head. Instead, she pretended like that night never happened. We
saw each other twice during the funeral arrangements and final reading of the
will, but she barely acknowledged my presence. With her job complete, she went
back to her law firm without so much as a Dear Dorian letter.

“Why don’t you call me?” I asked my
phone, staring at her name. None of this made sense. I was bombarded every day
by email and texts and voicemails from half the women in this city, but the one
I wanted wasn’t making so much as a peep.

I couldn’t just wait forever. Time
was ticking. My thumb swiped across the keypad. Satisfied with the message, I
hit send.

“Let’s go, Dad.”

My father walked sullenly from
around the front counter of the police station, his shoulders hunched and his
head down. He looked like a scolded child who was being picked up by his mother
from the principal’s office.

“Sorry, Gigi,” he said, his voice
rough from what I could only assume was one hell of a hangover. He looked up at
me through his bushy white eyebrows and bloodshot eyes.

“I know.”

“Be sure he stays away for more than
a week this time, Gigi,” the desk clerk said, though he couldn’t hide the
pitying smile behind that bristly mustache. I hated their pity more than
anything.

“Thanks Officer Miller,” I said,
resting my hand on my father’s shoulder as the two of us headed out the door.

The bright afternoon sunlight was
blinding as my father and I stepped out of the station, the sounds of the city
roaring over us as we made our way down the precinct’s front steps. The street
was filled with people bustling about on their lunch breaks, even a few
officers loitering outside as they ordered from a greasy hotdog cart. A few of
them nodded in our direction, even calling out to my father in a mock-scolding
tone.

“Where’d you park, sweetie?” my
father asked, squinting over at the tiny visitor lot on the side of the
building. “I don’t see your car.”

“That’s because I don’t
have
a car, Daddy. It got towed weeks
ago.”

“Towed?”
he asked, his voice rising to a
squawk. “What’d they take your car for?”

I thought for a moment about
unloading on him, letting him know that on top of all my other troubles, I
didn’t need his shit. Then I bit the inside of my cheek as I realized that
would probably only make him drink more, and a couple hours after the fact, I’d
feel like shit about myself. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll just walk down to the
bus stop and catch the next one home.”

“Like hell I ain’t gonna worry about
it,” he grumped, his bushy brows furrowed. “My little girl loses her car and
she doesn’t expect her old man to worry. What kinda fool do you take me for?
How long have you been hiding this?”

“It’s nothing. I’ll get it back
soon... You don’t need to be worry about me, I promise,” I replied, trying to
hide from the facts. The car was gone. Repossessed, and by now, certainly in
the hands of its brand new owner. “Let’s go, Dad.”

My father walked sullenly from
around the front counter of the police station, his shoulders hunched and his
head down. He looked like a scolded child who was being picked up by his mother
from the principal’s office.

“Sorry, Gigi,” he said, his voice
rough from what I could only assume was one hell of a hangover. He looked up at
me through his bushy white eyebrows and bloodshot eyes.

“I know.”

“Be sure he stays away for more than
a week this time, Gigi,” the desk clerk said, though he couldn’t hide the
pitying smile behind that bristly mustache. I hated their pity more than
anything.

“Thanks Officer Miller,” I said,
resting my hand on my father’s shoulder as the two of us headed out the door.

The bright afternoon sunlight was
blinding as my father and I stepped out of the station, the sounds of the city
roaring over us as we made our way down the precinct’s front steps. The street
was filled with people bustling about on their lunch breaks, even a few
officers loitering outside as they ordered from a greasy hotdog cart. A few of
them nodded in our direction, even calling out to my father in a mock-scolding
tone.

I thought for a moment about
unloading on my father, letting him know that on top of all my other troubles,
I didn’t need his shit. Then I bit the inside of my cheek as I realized that
would probably only make him drink more, and a couple hours after the fact, I’d
feel like shit about myself.

“You going to tell me the truth?” my
father grumped, his bushy brows furrowed. “My little girl loses her car and she
doesn’t expect her old man to worry, but I know damn well it didn’t just get
towed. What kinda fool do you take me for?”

“It’s nothing. You don’t need to be
worry about me.”

“Who else am I supposed to be
worried about if I can’t worry about my little girl?” he snorted as we crossed
the busy street.

“You could always start with
worrying about yourself, Dad. I mean, how many times this month has it been?
Four? Five?” I sighed and shook my head, hiking my purse higher up on my shoulder
as we walked.

“You’re just counting the times I
called you,” he muttered.

“Daddy!” I scolded, smacking him on
his arm. “What would have happened if the cops
didn’t
find you? You could have ended up dead in a ditch!”

I let out a frustrated sigh. He just
didn’t get it! How could someone be so stupid, so inconsiderate about how much
their life meant to other people?

“What was it this time?”

“The hell are you talkin’ about,
girl?” he huffed, doing his best to sound innocent.

“You don’t go on one of your benders
without a reason—maybe not a good reason, but you always find one. So, what was
it this time?”

“Got some bad news in the mail,
that’s all,” he grumbled, scuffing his feet on the ground as he walked.

He was like a five-year-old. It
drove me up the wall.

“Yeah? What bad news did you get
this time, Daddy? Power bill too high? Didn’t win the publisher’s clearinghouse
ten million dollar prize?”

“Nah, none of that,” he said,
heaving a long sigh before letting it out in a soft whistle. “They’re takin’
the house.”

“What do you mean, they’re taking
the house?” I asked, narrowing my eyes as I turned my head to look at him. He
wouldn’t meet my gaze, his eyes downcast, searching for anything else to look
at but me. I could see the guilt and shame written all over him, even in the
way he licked his lips—he only did that when he was searching for something to
say, and it never turned out to be anything good. “Tell me what happened, Dad.”

“I might’ve… forgot to pay a few
months of the mortgage,” he said, giving his shoulders a noncommittal shrug as
he cast his stare out along the street.

I stopped, my feet glued to the
sidewalk as I stared at him. I felt like I’d been punched right in the chest, a
tightness gathering right between my breasts. I couldn’t breathe for a moment.

“You lost our house?”

“I lost
my
house,” my father growled, his lower lip trembling. “You ain’t
lived there since you went to college.”

“I still
grew up
there, Dad!”

“Not like it matters, anyway.
Nothin’ I can do about it.”

“If you’d told me sooner…” I began,
but only let out a cry of frustration.

“You still ain’t told
me
the truth,” he observed coolly, like
changing the subject would somehow set things right, let him off the hook.
“Where’s your damn car?”

I wasn’t going to tell him all this,
but now the dam broke. If he was going to lay everything on my shoulders, then
goddamn if I wasn’t going to return the favor.

“They took it, Dad. I haven’t been
paying for my student loans, so they took my car. And they’re docking my wages.
So I guess you’re not the only one in the family who can’t seem to handle
paying off their loans. Like father like daughter…”

My father stood there for a long
time, his heavy-lidded eyes fixed on me, and this time it was my turn to look
away. It was like he was looking straight through me, making me feel
vulnerable, like nothing I could do would stay hidden from him.

“You’d best not be anything like me,
girl, if you know what’s good for you,” he said after a long moment of silence.
He shook his head, sitting himself down on one of the benches that lined the
sidewalk. “C’mere.”

I heaved a sigh, resigning myself to
sit there beside him, my head in my hands as the rest of the world passed us
by. I felt so small in the grand scheme of things, a tiny little ant that was
about to get crushed underneath a massive financial boot. It all felt like too
much.

“What do I do, Daddy?”

“Don’t start drinking,” he said, his
hand resting on my back.

“You know what I mean,” I said,
unable to stop the laugh bubbling up from my throat.

“I do, but you already know the
answer. You got to work hard, baby girl, and maybe—one day—you’ll be free. But
if I know the world, then it sure as hell won’t make it easy for you.”

“You’re not making a very convincing
argument against drinking, Dad,” I said, finally lifting my head from my hands.

He smiled patiently, maybe even
regretfully. “I know, but that’s way too easy for my little girl. You always
take the hard path in life, never once goin’ for the
shortcut
, even when you know you’ve earned the break. That’s what I
love about you. It’s what makes you better than your old man.”

“Don’t say that, Daddy,” I
whispered, looking over at him only to catch tears glistening in his eyes. It
hurt to see him cry. It hurt deep down to my core.

“Our family has a bad history of
workin’ hard our whole lives without getting anywhere, Gigi. That isn’t what I
want for you—it’s not what you deserve. You’re worth more money than any fancy
law firm could
ever
pay you. You’re
smart as a damn whip. You deserve to make it in life—you deserve better...”

I reached out, grasping my father’s
hand as I looked into his old, tired eyes. There were things behind my father’s
gaze I’d never understand, but I knew pain when I saw it, and it ripped me
apart.

He’s
right
, I thought, my
grip on his hand tightening before I leaned in to wrap my arms around him.
I deserve better than this
.

“Let’s get you home, Dad,” I said,
standing up.

My father and I walked what little
distance remained to the bus stop, arriving just in time to catch the last bus
that would pass through for another hour.

Our ride to his house took us almost
two hours, between which we transferred busses twice and sat waiting at a very
crowded depot for almost another half hour. I quickly remembered exactly why I
hated public transportation and why I
loved
having my own car.

After our intrepid bus trip, it was
another half hour walk to my father’s two-story colonial he’d bought on a
military salary, and had—until recently—been maintaining his sizable mortgage
on by way of his pension. I’d spent the better part of a decade in that house
after my father managed to finally pin down a semi-permanent spot on the base
nearby.

I had my first kiss in that house,
my first drink of wine—I even lost my virginity to Tyrese Freeman after senior
prom in my bedroom. All of that was going to go away, lost to whoever was in
the market for a “fixer-upper.” My face burned just thinking about it.

“You think you can make it to the
door without my help? I asked.