Chapter 15 Can I Squeeze Your Butt?
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Can I Squeeze Your Butt?
IRINA
Ismoothed down the fabric of the brand new, totally-not-my-usual-style dress as I waited out the front of my apartment building for my ride.
I tried to tell myself it was the cool morning that had me shivering, as I wrapped my cardigan tighter around my shoulders.
But I knew, deep down, that it was nerves.
Thank fuck Kat was so preoccupied with freaking out over Sir Daddy Dom to notice how off the planet I’d been the last few days. Still, I’d avoided her as much as possible, afraid that she would somehow rat out my plans for the Easter weekend. Plans she needed to not know about for her own good.
I’d gotten home late Thursday night, after she’d already gone to bed. I’d been out at Bondi Eastmeadow, trying on dress after dress, searching for one that felt right.
I’d settled on a white sundress with a pretty, floral pattern in yellows and greens. Nothing about this ‘wedding’ was traditional, but for some reason, I felt like I needed to wear white, even if it was tempered with a pattern.
I’m getting married today …
This morning, I’d woken early and snuck into the bathroom while Kat was making the most of her Good Friday with a sleep-in.
I’d washed my hair, had tried to use my straightener to wave it, then decided I really shouldn’t have attempted that without Kat’s help to do the back parts, so I’d redone the entire thing until it fell straight and glossy down my back.
I’d slipped my feet into a pair of Kat’s sandals that I’d borrowed from her wardrobe without her knowledge.
The dress was new, and around my wrist I wore a tarnished silver bangle—one of the only things I had of my mother’s, kept in a box with the few things I’d brought from home with me.
Things that I wanted to remember about Romania.
Things that I couldn’t ever let myself forget …
My bra-and-panty set was a pale, eggshell blue.
I was well and truly nebunesc with all this superstitious nonsense. But I really needed this marriage to work, to fool the authorities long enough for me to make myself permanently safe from my past.
And maybe a tiny little part of me was excited to be marrying Henry. I mean, he was adorable. And hot. And so much fun to tease. And clever … And he was doing me a massive favour by offering to marry me.
Holy shit. I’m getting married today!
Were my armpits sweating? La dracu, did I forget to put on deodorant? I surreptitiously sniffed at my armpits as a bulked-up guy in a puffer jacket and an Eastern Sydney Cockerels cap walked past, fists stuffed in his jacket. He did a double-take, his eyes locked on my nose in my pit.
“What’re you looking at, g?oaz?? Never seen anyone check their BO before?” I snarked. The man frowned, heading further along the street before plonking himself down on the bus stop bench.
His eyes remained on me like two little prickling points of heat, even from a distance. I tugged my phone out of my bag to check my Tickle notifications, hoping I had an ETA on the car Henry was sending for me. I sighed. Nothing new.
And the jerk in the football team baseball cap was still staring at me. I glanced out of the corner of my eye, not wanting him to know that I knew he was watching me.
La naiba, was he photographing me? He had his phone out and pointed in my direction.
Fuck, maybe he’d recognised me from Tickle.
And here I was, standing outside my apartment building, which was big and ugly and wouldn’t be all that hard for anyone with half a brain and Google maps to determine my location.
Ru_Snack_XXXplores: Where is this driver of yours?
Ru_Snack_XXXplores: There’s some creeper taking photographs of me in my wedding dress …
M_Jay: I’m tracking his location. He should be there any second.
M_Jay: He’s around the corner, thirty seconds tops.
I glanced up, turning my head into the breeze—in the creeper’s direction. I hoped it looked like I was just trying to get my hair to blow out of my face, but I needed to know what he was up to.
Shit. He had his phone to his ear, and he was back on his feet. His eyes found mine, and he muttered something into the phone, walking purposefully back towards me.
Fuck. What if he wasn’t some Tickle weirdo? What if he was an undercover cop, who was about to arrest me?
My heart slammed against my ribcage. Frozen to the spot with indecision, I could do nothing but watch as he strode ever closer. If I ran, wouldn’t that just make me look guilty? But if I didn’t run, and he caught me …
I was screwed no matter what.
A black SUV screeched to a halt in front of me, the front passenger window down. A pretty, petite brunette with giant oversized sunglasses that made her look like a fly gesticulated wildly at me.
“Get in!” she squeaked. “I’m Liv—Henry’s PA!”
That was all I needed. I lunged for the back door, wrenching it open and launching my overnight bag in before I flung myself across the leather seat too.
“You’ve got her?” Henry’s voice sounded agitated through the car speakers as whoever was driving roared back onto the street. I sat up, peering through the back window. The guy in the cap was walking on towards the corner, as if he hadn’t been about to abduct me in broad daylight.
“Put your goddamned seat belt on!” a familiar, grouchy voice snarled. Letting out a shaky breath, I dragged the belt over myself.
“I’m taking that as a confirmation that Irina is in the car with you?” Henry asked tightly.
“Yeah, I’m here,” I panted. “I could have sworn that guy was …”
“Did you get dash cam of him?” Henry interrupted. His gargantuan security guy—the one who had threatened to throw me overboard—grunted something unintelligible, which Henry must have taken as a yes.
“I’ll look into him, Irina,” he promised. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there to pick you up myself, but I’ll see you on the plane. Lucian, be nice.”
Henry ended the call, and the grouch, who must be Lucian, muttered, “No promises,” into the silence.
“Lucian!” Liv admonished, tapping him on the arm with the back of her hand. He flinched, even though it was barely more than a tickle, and rubbed at the spot as he turned out into traffic.
The brunette turned in her seat, flashing a sweet smile at me. “I’m Liv. And your dress is gorgeous! Henry’s a lucky man!”
Lucian made an odd, choking sound. I narrowed my eyes at him in the rear-view mirror.
“Not a fan of the dress, Lucian?” I asked, my voice sickly sweet. “Or maybe you’re jealous?”
“Why would I be jealous of your dress?” he barked.
I laughed lightly. “Well, it would look stunning against your pretty blond hair. I’m sure it comes in your size too—it’s from a very inclusive boutique.
I’d let you wear mine, except it would burst open over that barrel chest of yours, and I want to keep it pristine, seeing as it’s my wedding dress and all. ”
Lucian growled under his breath. Literally growled while Liv giggled, patting him on the arm, again. “Don’t be such a stick in the mud, Lucian! Your cousin is getting married today! You should be—”
“Hold on!” I blurted, leaning forwards so I could stick my head in between the front seats. “You’re Henry’s cousin? You look nothing alike!”
Lucian rolled his eyes. “My mother’s Finnish. Not that it’s any of your business.” He turned to Liv. “And as for you, Olivia …”
I smirked at the way his voice softened when he addressed her. Something was going on there, for sure. No way did this grumpy bastard melt like that if he wasn’t crushing hard on the little lady.
“I don’t think I should be anything other than sceptical, at best. This is not the marriage Henry deserves,” he finished, meeting my gaze in the mirror and scowling.
“And yet it’s the one he’s chosen for himself,” I murmured.
“He chose it, did he?” Lucian blasted. “Or did a woman sneak into his room, remove her underwear and sell him some sob story about the big scary ‘thing’ that she won’t elaborate on that’s waiting for her if she’s forced to return to Europe, so she could trigger his saviour complex and manoeuvre him into this exact scenario? ”
Anger flared in my chest. Did this jerk really think I’d premeditated this?
“Listen here, you idiotule. I was so shocked when he asked me to marry him that I laughed for a good minute, because I thought he was joking. I’m not going to deny that his offer is the best chance I’ve got to save my ass, but you can shove it if you think I tried to ‘manoeuvre’ him into this!
He’s a big boy; he can make his own decisions! ”
Lucian’s nostrils flared, but he said nothing. Probably because Liv’s hand was covering his on the gear knob, her thumb moving softly back and forth over his wrist. Yep. There was something going on there.
I flopped back against my seat, trying to get myself under control.
The worst part was … I actually liked Henry.
And under any other circumstances, I would have relished the flirting, and the chemistry and the anticipation of the super-hot sexy times that the flirting and the chemistry would have led to.
I was insanely grateful to him for what he was doing for me, and still in shock that he would go to such lengths to help me—a virtual stranger—with something as serious as this mess I was in.
But the way he’d called this marriage a business proposal …
maybe he really did want to keep this professional.
Maybe I’d read more into our banter than he felt.
Or maybe he had his big burly cousin telling him that he had to keep me at arm’s length in case I was out to scam him.
Well, Lucian could go to hell! I would be the best fake wife that Henry had ever had, and I’d show Lucian that everything he thought about me was wrong.
“Does he own this too?” I asked, wide-eyed and gaping-mouthed as we crossed the tarmac towards an actual private jet and the flight attendant waiting by the stairs to usher us on board.