A Tempting Arrangement (Twisted Vows Book 1)

31. Misty

Sender:Mrs. Everette

Subject: Primrose Gala

Misty,

Due to the public announcement of your marriage to my son, you will be expected to attend the Primrose gala as his date. Myself and a team of stylists will arrive at your place of residence at 1:00 p.m. tomorrow to prepare you to be properly presented to our society. Your attire will be provided.

Regards,

Mrs. Everette

I read Damon’s mother’s email for the third time before dropping my forehead into my palms and rubbing them over my face. Just what I freaking needed, an unhinged mother-in-law. I may actually murder him for this.

I want to tell her to go screw herself, to take whatever plain dress she has picked out and shove it up her ass, but there’s this nagging feeling I can’t shake. The one that reminds me that I don’t belong, that I never did.

From: Misty Hart

To: Mrs. Everette

Subject: Primrose Gala

See you then,

Misty.

I’m back in my cubicle at the Bruins building. I wouldn’t say I’m exactly hiding, but I wouldn’t not say it either. The idea of arriving at—whichever building Damon’s in today—and having to walk past the rows of his no doubt gossiping employees makes my skin itch. It’s one thing to be married to him in secret; it’s an entire other thing to have everyone know.

Waking up to the Times headline being“Billionaire heir marries young employee” was enough to make me sick. It’s still leaps and bounds better than its less professional rivals that dedicated whole sections on my gold-digging abilities and that they hope he got a prenup…

The fact that they aren’t completely off the mark stings even more.

I’m in PR—I know exactly how this is going to play out. By the time we separate, I’ll be listed as some kind of gold digger who couldn’t even secure any money in the divorce, then be laughed out of the industry. What’s the point of getting my visa if I can’t work here anyway?

The absolute best-case scenario is they paint it as a love story, and I come out as devastated in the end…at least with that narrative, I’m not an absolute bitch.

I lift the white-gold chain from around my neck, pulling out my ring, and spin the simple band between my fingers. It’s warm to the touch from being against my skin, and the emerald cut gleams more than glistens.

I hadn’t been ready to put it on this morning—it felt too real to just walk around in public wearing it. Instead, I’d stolen the necklace Damon wore yesterday so I’m not completely breaking Damon’s demand that I wear it. He didn’t specify it needed to be on my finger.

A shiver rolls down my neck, raising goose bumps in its wake at the thrill of pushing him. I shouldn’t. I know I shouldn’t.

Damon’s not the type of guy to push. All I have to do is look at how the other men in his class defer to him to know that he’s a man who likes control.

I’ve spent years being perfect, being the fun girl that you keep around. And it’s worked for me. Keeps me safe. I learned the lesson not to play with men in positions of power over me the hard way, and I have the scars to prove it.

So why do I feel so comfortable pushing boundaries with Damon? There’s a thrill that goes through me every time I defy him. Like I’m some kind of adrenaline junkie seeing how high I can climb before I crash to the ground.

That’s not right, because he’d catch me, and something tells me I’d like every second of the way he’d punish me.

Sidney: You’re married!

I rarely get to see Sidney since moving to Boston. She’s married to Jaxton Ryder, leading goal scorer in the league. He, Piper, and Lucas grew up together and kind of scooped Sidney and me up into their family, whether we wanted to be or not. Jax managed to get himself traded to the Ottawa Senators when she’d landed her position in parliament.

Me: Temporarily married. More like a marriage of convenience.

Sidney: I know, Piper told me but I thought you were keeping it a secret. The story’s all over Canadian news. Canadian girl moves to the U.S and marries a billionaire. Has a nice ring to it.

My hand trembles holding the phone as dread sinks low in my stomach. If she knows, my family knows. Thomas knows. The room grows dark, and blackness takes over my peripheral vision, and I have to force myself to breathe to stop from fainting. There’s no way they’re going to let this slide.

Me: It was supposed to be a secret. The asshole just couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

“Am I the asshole?” Damon’s low, rumbly voice comes from directly beside my ear, and my entire body jerks.

“Jesus, you scared me.” I hold a hand to my chest, trying to regain some semblance of calm.

His eyes narrow on the ring he gave me, hanging an inch below my palm.

“Do you enjoy disobeying me?” He raises a perfectly arched brow.

I bite my lip to hide my smile, because yeah…I do. “I’m technically wearing it.”

He cups the back of my neck before rubbing his thumb over the tight tendon there.

“Tell me, wife. Since you’re obviously not bothered by me”—his grip tightens, and his voice turns dark, edged with a warning I don’t think is for me—“what made you look so scared?”

“Nothing.”

The stubble on his chin scrapes against my temple. “You’re a horrible liar.”

I huff out a laugh because he’s wrong. I’m an excellent liar. I’ve been hiding every single dark part of me for nearly seven years.

“I received an email from your mother.” Deflect, deflect, deflect.

His brows pull together as if he knows exactly what I’m doing. He shifts so that he’s leaning against my desk. Damon looks wrong here in his perfectly tailored navy suit, showing off just a hint of stretch across his shoulders.

The contrast between him and the fake wood paneling is a perfect representation of the two of us. We can be in the same space, but we’ll never belong. Yet another lesson Thomas’s family taught me.

He leans back, watching me. “What did she want?”

I shudder. “She’s coming over tomorrow to help me get ready.”

His lips twitch into a smile.

“Do you want me to call her off?” His voice is low, serious.

“Hardly. I can handle her.”

He eyes me for a long time. “I spoke with her, and she won’t speak to you like she did again.”

My chest tightens, but I push through it. “Thank you.”

“I won’t be there tonight. I have to go out of town for a meeting.”

I’m curious but don’t bother asking. It has nothing to do with me.

As if reading me like an open book, he continues. “The Mercer acquisition has hit a stalemate. If it was anything else, I’d have one of the other reps take care of it.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

His head tilts to the side. “Don’t I?”

I break eye contact before I can say something stupid like he doesn’t have to tell me, but I want him to.

I go with something safe. “Does that mean we won’t go to the gala?”

“I wouldn’t miss a chance to show you off to the world. I’ll be back in plenty of time.”

My cheeks flush, and now I’m biting back a smile. This man is entirely too charming when he wants to be.

“Don’t look so pleased to be rid of me, Nymph.”

He couldn’t be further from the truth. I swallow before replying, “Of course. What kind of dutiful wife would I be if I didn’t wait by the door for my dear husband.”

He tucks a stray strand of my hair behind my ear, dragging his knuckles over my cheekbone. “I don’t think dutiful is the right word to describe you.”

“Oh yeah? How would you describe me?” I regret the words instantly.

He takes my hand and places it on his cock, over his wool-blend pants, then bends down until his lips nearly touch mine, and his breath tingles my skin. “You are a tempting goddess whose sole purpose in life is to test me.”

I swallow hard, and his gaze tracks my tongue, wetting my lips. He hasn’t touched me since the night I’d pulled away from him, and my body is starting to rebel. I lift so our mouths connect, and a low groan rumbles in his chest before he pulls away.

“This card will buy you whatever you need to be ready for the gala.”

“Anything? What if I decide I need a car.”

He pulls out his phone and hits a few buttons until mine beeps. “That’s the number to our preferred dealer. We’ve vetted their quality, but you can go wherever you want, of course.”

“I was kidding.”

“I’m not.” He unlatches my necklace and slides my wedding ring off it, carefully returning it to my finger. “Do not take this off.”

I roll my eyes because all that did was make me want to wear it on the chain even more. “Of course, Sir.”

His eyes turn molten, and his chest rises and falls as if he’s holding himself back for several moments before he relaxes. “Lock your door tonight. Matthias will be stationed downstairs if you need anything.”

“Your brother? That’s not necessary.”

“I assure you, it is.”