Chapter Eleven
Lilac
My heart hammers as I open the door to the study inside the mansion on campus. A tall, lanky man leans against the fireplace, holding a glass in his hand. His inky hair is slicked back, neat, and the dark suit he wears hugs his muscular frame.
My gaze lands on Irvin next, and I suck in a breath.
His presence consumes the room as he rises from his chair, his loafers creaking against the wooden floor.
His coal-black Armani suit molds to his hard muscles, and a lilac flower is tucked into the breast pocket of his jacket.
His warm fingers stroke the side of my face, his icy jade eyes narrowing.
A wicked smile stretches across his face, turning my insides to goo. Heat burns down my spine.
“You made it.” His voice is smooth like whiskey. He turns to the gentleman by the fireplace. “This is my lawyer, Nico. He’s the one who drew up the paperwork for our contract.”
The man stretches out his arm, and I place my hand in his warm palm. We shake, then I withdraw. Irvin slides his palm into mine and brings it to his mouth. His soft lips press against my skin, and I bite my lip.
Irvin ushers me to the wingback chair, and I sink nervously into the soft cushion.
He places a stack of papers in my hand, and we read over them. Then he tells me to sign on the dotted line.
My pulse spikes. Should I go through with this? Something feels off—warning bells blaze inside my skull.
I study the dotted line and glance back at Irvin.
“I don’t know about this.”
Irvin cups my face, stroking my bottom lip and gazing into my eyes.
“What’s wrong, princess?”
My chest tightens. Do I really want to go through with this? It seems too good to be true. He seems too good to be true.
My shoulders stiffen.
“I don’t know about any of this,” I repeat.
His gaze softens, and he cups my face again, his eyes zeroing in on my mouth.
“Regardless of whether you agreed to be my fake wife, I already paid your rent and tuition. As your boyfriend, it’s my job to take care of you. I only asked you to be my fake wife so you wouldn’t feel like you’re taking advantage of me.”
My throat tightens. He’s right. I don’t want to feel that way. And he already paid my bills, so I feel like I owe him. Plus, I don’t want him to think I’m using him. He shouldn’t pay my bills, even if he were my boyfriend.
I breathe in deeply, burning my lungs, and exhale loudly.
I grab the pen from his hand and sign my name on the dotted line.
I’m officially Irvin’s temporary fake wife.
Irvin’s eyes crinkle with warmth.
“We need to discuss living arrangements. In order for my father to believe our relationship is real, I need to move into your place—or you can move in here.”
“I haven’t thought about it. I mean, you can live with me for the time being. I don’t feel comfortable living with Keanu and Jameson.”
He intertwines his thick fingers with mine. “Okay. I’ll have my movers here. Let’s go down to the backyard of the mansion for our ceremony.”
Irvin removes a velvet box from his dress pocket and opens it. A huge diamond ring and silver wedding band gleam in the warm light. He slides them onto my fingers, and I notice a matching band on his right hand.
I look down at the dress I picked out. It’s long and boho—a wedding dress—with white and purple lilacs crowning my head.
I spent all night making it. Even though this wedding is fake, I wanted to make it special.
This will be the only time I’ll ever get to have a wedding because, after our fake breakup, I’m probably not going to date anyone else.
It sounds stupid to make something special that’s not real. It’s fun to play make-believe, I suppose.
When we step outside, everyone’s wearing coats, but it’s warmed up a bit, and thankfully, it’s not snowing.
The sun shines in the crystal-clear sky.
Black cloth covers round tables, with matching black and red roses decorating the chairs.
A live band plays soft music in the background.
The salty air feels luxurious and intimate.
A waft of rosewater and vanilla drifts across the yard.
Energy buzzes under my cool skin like a jazz tune.
I glance at my friends, all dressed in elegant gowns, and cock my eyebrow at Irvin.
“You told my friends about this fake wedding?”
He nods. “We have to make it as real to everyone as possible.”
Whoever he really marries after our fake breakup will be the luckiest girl in the world. Despite his controlling, overbearing behavior, he’s a gentleman—kind—and thinks of me in ways that make my heart break a little, knowing he won’t be mine forever.
A man who looks nothing like him—older—appears. His ashy blond hair is slicked back, and he’s muscular, about my height. This must be his father. He stands next to the pastor, palms steepled.
When we arrive at the altar, Irvin stands beside him, and we face each other. The pastor asks us to repeat the vows. We say our “I do’s.”
I have to remind myself this is all an act. We’re only having this wedding to convince the others we’re married.
When the pastor says, “You may kiss the bride,” Irvin pulls me in and cups my face, pressing his warm lips against mine, claiming me like I’m his.
Warmth spreads across my chest, and my eyes widen to the size of saucers. I shouldn’t have enjoyed the kiss the way I did. I shouldn’t want this kiss to actually be real.
I have to remind myself that this is fake. I stroke my lips, as if tracing his essence.
Irvin intertwines his fingers with mine, bringing my palm to his lips and planting soft kisses on my skin. He wets his lips before speaking.
“Thank you for doing this for me. You don’t know how much I’ve waited for this day.”
Our friends cheer and clap.
At the reception, I have a Coke and liquor in my hand, and I dance with Winter and Lyrical while rap music plays in the background.
“I can’t believe you tied the knot with Irvin,” Winter’s voice is sincere.
My eyes connect with Irvin, and he holds up his highball glass, waving. He winks, smiling, watching me like a hawk. I’ve noticed Irvin watches me all the time, as if studying me like I’m a subject. The thought sends a chill down my spine.
Keanu and Jameson smack him on the back and speak to him.
Someone clears their throat, and I turn around. Irvin’s father. He holds out his hand, and I place my palm in his. He shakes it firmly.
“It’s so lovely to meet you.” He presses his lips to the back of my hand. “My name is Preston, Irvin’s father.”
My cheeks burn, and I pull back, smiling.
Irvin steps between us, yanks me close, and glares down at his father, gritting his teeth.
“Father.” He gives him a vicious smile. “Don’t ever put your mouth on any part of my wife again.”
I can feel the tension between them.
Preston’s eyebrows pinch together, and he shoves his fingers into his pockets.
“Oh please, son. I’m not trying to steal your lady from you.”
Irvin’s jaw flexes. “I know you’re not. I just don’t want your mouth anywhere near my wife.”
I place my hand on his chest. “It’s okay, Irvin.”
His gaze softens when his eyes meet mine.
Preston grabs a glass of whiskey from a nearby waitress’s silver tray.
“It’s a bummer your parents aren’t here. I would’ve wanted to meet them.”
My chest tightens. What the hell? Why is he asking about my parents? Does he know what happened? I bite my bottom lip. Hard.
“Well, they aren’t here because of business.”
Preston cocks an eyebrow. “I spoke to your friends, and you told Lyrical your mother was a stay-at-home wife and your father owned a bank.”
I did tell her that—but that was years ago. I’m surprised Lyrical remembered. My palms grow sweaty, and I wipe them on my dress.
“Well, yeah. He did.”
His eyes narrow curiously. “What was the name of the bank?”
I play with the sleeve of my dress, avoiding eye contact. “Um, it’s a local bank in Florida. You wouldn’t have heard of it.”
Irvin tightens his hand around my waist. He frowns, gritting his teeth.
“Dad. Back off,” Irvin snaps. “I met her parents over the phone. They’re legit,” he lies.
I want to sigh in relief, but I hold my breath.
His father’s eyes narrow in confusion. “You did?”
“I did. Both are good people.” He pauses. “Dad, back off,” Irvin repeats. “Excuse us,” he snaps then.
We disappear into the crowd, and he introduces us to people.
I glance back at Preston, and a muscle ticks beneath his eye.
I’m glad to be away from his father.
I spot five men wearing plague masks from the eighteenth century, dressed in suits. They give me the creeps.
“Who are they?” I ask.
“The board members of the American Billionaire Club,” Irvin answers, not explaining further.
For the rest of the evening, Irvin and I dance, drink, and laugh. It truly feels like a real wedding, and for once, I imagine Irvin is actually my husband. It’s a stupid dream—one that will never happen.
Once everyone leaves, we head to his bedroom.
My mind wanders to his father. I knew this was going to happen—someone would eventually ask about my past.
I lie on the bed, staring at the ceiling.
Irvin presses a kiss to my forehead. “I’m sorry for my father.”
I sit up and intertwine my fingers with his. “You didn’t have to lie to him, Irvin.”
He slides his fingers through my hair. “I know.”
I tilt my head to the side. “Then why did you?”
His eyes linger too long on my mouth. “Because we’re only fake married temporarily. There isn’t a reason for him to know your business.” He sighs. “Everyone has something to hide—or something they aren’t proud of.”
He yanks me into his lap, thrusting his fingers through my hair again, then presses his mouth against mine.
This is what I need—an orgasm—but this isn’t a good idea. We should keep things platonic so my emotions won’t get more involved than they already are.
He bites my bottom lip. It stings, but I love it. He gazes into my eyes, then strokes my cheeks.
“Now that you’re my fake wife, I’m going to fuck every inch of you.”
He kisses the side of my neck, unzipping my white dress and pulling it over my head.
I should tell him no. I should push him away.
But I don’t. Why am I not stopping him? If I don’t put a stop to this, Irvin is going to assume this is real.
He already lives in this delulu world where we’re actually together, but no matter—I draw the line, but he doesn’t listen.
I do want him, but we can’t simply be together.
This marriage isn’t real—but I can enjoy the sex with him.
He yanks down my panties, lies down between my legs, rubs his nose over my clit, and licks it. I moan, my core tingling, and arch my back.
“Irvin… We shouldn’t.”
He pulls away, and lust lights his jade pupils. “Stop lying to yourself about not wanting me to fuck you.”
He’s right. I am lying to myself, and I can’t anymore—and he knows it. He knows that I want him to touch me, and I can’t fight him anymore.
Slowly, I nod for him to keep going as tremors rush to my core.
He slides his fingers inside me. I allow him to finger-fuck me and lick me at the same time. I feel my orgasm climbing my spine, and before I know it, I come in his mouth. He keeps licking me, and I try to push him away, but he doesn’t stop.
“I came.”
He yanks his hard dick out from his dress pants and shoves it inside me.
This time, I feel full and stretched, and a little bit of pain as he fucks me hard and fast. He yanks me by the hair, kissing my neck as I dig my nails into his back.
He fucks me hard and long. The only thing I hear is the sound of my moans.
He bites my lip hard as I feel him throbbing inside of me.
When he pulls out, warm cum sticks to my stomach.
“I missed being inside of you. You finally belong to me.”
His words chill me to the bone. What does he mean by I finally belong to him?
He slides back into me again, continuing to fuck me long and hard, and I enjoy every second of it. I missed him being inside of me too, but I don’t dare say it out loud.
I moan his name, my words echoing off the walls as I feel him throbbing inside of me again.
My stomach drops. Is he coming inside of me?
I try to push on his chest gently.
“Irvin. Don’t come in me, please.”
He laughs, and it sends chills down my spine. “Open your mouth, princess.”
I sit up on my knees and do what he says, feeling the head of his dick easing into my mouth. I choke and gag as spit trickles down my chin. He grabs the back of my head and pushes hard, sliding in and out. His face is flushed, and he nibbles on his bottom lip.
“Your mouth feels so damn good around my dick, princess.”
He slowly slides in and out, fucking my mouth now.
“Shit, Lilac. I missed your mouth.”
Desire grows in the pit of my stomach as my core tingles.
Several minutes later, I taste the salty flavor in my mouth and swallow his cum.
I stare at him as he slides his pants back on, disappearing into his bathroom and returning with a wet rag in hand.
He wipes me clean and zips up my dress. My heart pounds as I stare at him, realizing that I have to keep my guard up with Irvin because if I don’t, I’ll start to fall in love with my temporary husband—and I can’t have that.