Chapter 9 – Grant
I t would be better if I could just ignore her.
“I may require you for one of those duties I spoke of.”
She’d been silent for so long I thought the call had been disrupted. “ What do I have to do?”
I had blown out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. “My second cousin’s wife wants to throw a wedding reception party for us in Vancouver at New Year’s.”
“Sounds delightful.”
She had not sounded delighted.
Neither am I.
Emilia called to congratulate me on my nuptials and I could tell she was looking to stir trouble. She lives for drama as much as she lives to host huge parties. They must’ve learned of the marriage through the officious Mr. Gray. But, the family is the family and I mustn’t give them any more reason to question my place in it.
As for Daisy, I fear I’m no more suitable husband material than my father was. Just in different ways. Looking back on my wedding day, I feel nothing but irritation. No new dress for my bride and I was shown up by a clerk with a measly handful of wildflowers. I couldn’t claim a kiss to punctuate such a pitiful excuse for a ceremony after that. No more than I can sleep with her after I bullied her into this match. No matter how much I want her.
I had gone home that evening with every intention of speaking to her further about our marriage, what was expected and what was not, but all I could focus on as the car neared the estate was how it was our wedding night and she was mine for the next year, in my house and in my bed. I had a fucking hard-on when I arrived. There was no way I could face her like that.
So, I’d gone to the study, monitoring where she’d spent my money while I drank until I fell asleep. I rarely ever drink like that. I never wanted to be weak and out of control like my father.
I awoke to a heavenly vision. Christ, that nightgown. She almost broke me. Almost . No matter how much my body might desire Daisy, I must remember the point of this marriage – keep the estate. Falling for my wife? Possibly being vulnerable for or attached to someone who’s expected to leave? That’s not how this is going to go.
But, she was stunning in her sexy gown that accentuated her gorgeous curves with her hopeful little smile and those golden locks cascading around her feminine, sloped shoulders. The image is etched into my brain and haunts me constantly.
My phone starts to buzz, causing me to pull my hand away from the direction it was headed. “Yes?” I gruffly answer.
“Good morning, Mr. Barclay. You wished for me to call once today’s schedule had been finalized. And, I sent the announcement to The Chronicle as you requested.”
“Very well. Thank you, Hadley.” My assistant is as efficient as ever. It was necessary to inform the paper before Emila starts broadcasting the news to everyone even if it means more bloodhounds will soon come calling.
I end the call and stare at the ceiling of my penthouse’s master suite wondering what Goldilocks is doing right now or if she’s even up yet. I have no idea why I keep calling her that. I’ve never been one to give nicknames. But, it’s been days since I’ve seen her and, with a groan, I picture those golden curls as I’d seen them in my bed, all fetchingly tousled with her sleepy grin. Despite the hour, my hand drifts back down beneath the sheets.
She said she was interested in art. I imagine her painting landscapes with great concentration. Her pearly white teeth would sink into that plump bottom lip with that same look she wore at City Hall when she slid the gold band onto my finger.
Where did I leave my ring? I think as I rub my thumb over the head of my cock, spreading the drops of precum on my palm.
“In your office… where you’d love to fuck your wife,” I rasp as I begin to stroke. There are many places I’d love to do that.
Thinking of those sweet, plump lips, my pulse speeds up and so does my hand’s movements. Shifting my hips, my heels dig into the mattress as I draw rapidly toward a climax. Those thin, little straps of the nightgown sliding off Daisy’s shoulders, revealing her body to me. My wife, mine to claim. The slit at the bottom gave me a flash of her matching panties . The peach-colored gown and she smells like goddamn peaches. I’ll bet her rosy-tipped tits are the size of them, perfect handfuls. I’ll bet her pussy would taste like them.
The world narrows as my balls tighten up. “Fuck.” My eyes slide closed with the roar of my orgasm breaking over me. The warm jets of my cum landing on my clenched belly and my pounding heart, they’re all that matters in the moment.
But, once the high fades, I acknowledge how fleeting it was. Just like my marriage is going to be. Anything more is too much of a risk, a risk my heart will never take.
∞∞∞
Two hours later, I’m at a meeting where Callie and Reynolds are getting recognition for their hard work on the hockey arena our company had helped build the past year. I like my partners and our new Director of R & D despite her attempts to interrogate me over Daisy’s absence from the janitorial staff. Business has been very good since I joined the Golden Gate partnership a couple of years ago and I’ve done my best to guide our fleet financially. Dollars and cents, mitigating risks, forecasting costs and managing cash flow, developing strategies, it’s what I’ve always enjoyed even if others consider me tight-fisted because of it.
Observing Dean Culver, our COO, at the head of the room, my prickly pride reminds me he’s the reason I’m here after the company needed a new CFO to fill his shoes a couple of years ago. His recommendation is the reason I’m a billionaire, too. Dean and I went to boarding school together after Linus shipped me off there thanks to what would be our biggest battle. Such an unhappy time, one that nearly severed our bond irrevocably and turned my heart to stone. Granite Grant with a heart of stone , the boys at school had said of me. Even Dean, occasionally. They had no idea how true it was.
As the meeting ends, I clap on cue but my mind is very much elsewhere when several of the partners, the wives who are present, Callie and her man, Ezra Sokolov, the former hockey player turned billionaire, start discussing our upcoming charity ball in December. The other partners love hosting events that give back to the community while creating positive buzz for the company. I usually point out that they’re a sound tax write-off as well. No one seems to appreciate my point.
I have no intention of dropping any bombshells today but, when Dean’s wife Tabitha asks if I’m bringing anyone to the ball, I find my mouth opening against my will. “I’ll be bringing my wife.”
“Wife?! You’re not married!” Dean exclaims.
I didn’t care for his incredulous tone. “I have a marriage certificate which says otherwise, Culver.”
I stride away, refusing to answer further questions beyond giving her name and feeling a little smug over shocking them all for once. I also feel a bit foolish. I had proclaimed I would never marry and now I’m married… while not even sharing my wife’s bed. Nevertheless, the ball might be good practice for the perilous traps Emilia’s party will lay at our feet.
Blindly, I reach into my desk drawer and find the gold band I’d deposited there after the ceremony last week. I slip it on my left ring finger – See? I’m married . Even if it feels unfamiliar, I could get used to it. I suppose I must.
No sooner than that’s done, Jameson Reynolds invades my space. “Have you ever heard of knocking?”
“You married Daisy,” he says at length when he’s failed to make me speak from glaring alone.
“Yes, Daisy… who was formerly our employee here.”
“Why?”
“Why not?”
“How well do you know Daisy, Grant?” There’s something about his probing tone that nettles me. Mr. Security being extra cautious.
There’s also something about it that makes me feel guilty. She was frightened the other night when I lost my temper. I may not plan to touch my wife but the mere thought of other men doing so drove me to a jealous fit.
The guilt is there for other reasons, too. She obviously doesn’t have much. Our cleaning staff’s pay is better than minimum wage but no one’s getting rich there. Mrs. Keating said no other baggage arrived for her. Anders never saw her apartment but said it was in a very poor area of the city. And, Jenna told me she ate and ate her first few days at the estate – “As if she hadn’t been fed properly in months, sir.”
Of course, Radcliffe had merely said the new Mrs. Barclay was a surprising choice and mentioned he’d be sure to keep count of my grandmother’s silver. I don’t believe she’s truly a thief but the story about how she wound up in my bed was quite a reach. Just because she seems innocent and sweet doesn’t mean she doesn’t know how to tell a tale to get what she wants out of men.
Tamping down my guilt, I look Jameson in the eye and lie through my teeth. “I know her well enough. She is my wife.”
In truth, I know so little about Daisy beyond the fact that she’s twenty-four, desperate enough to agree to everything I demanded of her and far more beguiling than may be wise that it’s laughable.
“How well do you know her?’ I ask, turning the question back on him.
“Well enough to know I would hate any man who would take advantage of a vulnerable girl like her.”
His words turn my guilt up another notch. It also pisses me off. “Daisy will not be taken advantage of by being married to me. If anything, she will benefit the most. Was that all?” I snap, turning to my laptop in the hope that he’ll go.
Dissatisfied, he storms off without another word. My first interrogation of the day is done and my thoughts turn back to the object of it. Daisy, Daisy, Daisy… What are you up to today? I wonder idly when I should be working.
I had the latest model of the best phone delivered to her yesterday before I called her. In addition to Anders, it will help me keep tabs on her whereabouts. When I check the app, I see she’s not at the estate this morning as I expected. She’s in the city. What is she up to?
“There’s someone from your bank on the line, sir,” Hadley says through the speaker.
“Send it my way.”
The fraud management liaison quickly explains their concern that my credit card has been stolen. I pull up the charges on my computer, chuckling under my breath. If she’s still vexed with me over our wedding night, she’ll have to try harder to express it.
Charges this morning to that art supply store again, six hundred dollars this time. The same boutique where she purchased that enchanting nightgown, three hundred. Not even a day’s pay. She’s going to need to look the part of my wife before long anyway.
What’s this one? Four thousand dollars at a shoe store? Well, that’s a little more like it for my would-be trophy wife but from a Foot Locker? How many pairs of athletic shoes does one need?
What about a jewelry store, Goldilocks? I think, glancing at my ring. The gold band alone won’t do for her. I’ll need to rectify that.
“That’s just my wife doing some shopping. Run it all through and don’t worry about calling to check with me again unless it’s serious money.”
“Yes, of course, sir. And, congratulations. By serious money though, how much do you…”
“Seven figures.” If she drops a million in one place, we may have that allowance talk but I doubt I’d say no to her even then. I’ve trapped her in this marriage for my own selfish reasons. I can afford to spoil her while it lasts.
But, why would you wish to spoil her?
A good question.I’ve never intentionally spoiled anyone in my entire life.
As I end the call, one purchase from our wedding night catches my eye. That wasn’t there when I’d looked that night. It’s from an online retailer. The Well-Dressed Man?
Curious, I stroll out of my office to find Hadley at her desk, eating her lunch and chatting with Grace, our CEO Anthony’s wife and assistant. “Did you need something, sir?” Hadley asks, wiping her mouth.
“Yes, the bank is trying to reconcile some charges on my account. I believe they’re all purchases my wife has made but have you ever heard of this retailer?” I ask, pointing to the name on the statement I’d printed out.
I immediately regret asking as I can tell I’ve embarrassed her (and possibly myself) in some way. “The Well-Dressed Man?” Christ, she’s choking on her last bite of food.
“If the Heimlich is required, Hadley, hold up one finger,” I instruct her.
She glares at me through teary eyes, taking a sip of her water, while Grace pats her back and is giggling like a schoolgirl. “Holy frijoles. No surprise you wouldn’t know that website, Grant.” Grace’s cheeks get redder and redder as she starts a backtracking ramble. “Not that you couldn’t. Obviously. Couples can explore things and, um… I suppose your wife, uh…”
Unamused by the suspicions springing to my mind, I stalk back into my office and look up the damn site. Silicone, silicone, everywhere. Hideous, day-glow colors and an assortment of fake cocks that are extra-terrestrial in appearance. Well, isn’t that enlightening? Mr. Buzzy, Mr. Big, Jack Master, Thumper-Pumper, Joyride 3000 and the one Daisy had chosen, Mad Maximus.
“What in the actual fuck?”
Picking up my phone, I call Anders. “Yes, Mr. Barclay?”
“I’m going to need you to drive my wife over here. At once.”