10. Dev
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The Yin To My Yang
W e’re still facing each other, her citrus scent swirling in the air between us, despite the scent of those damn lilies trying to overpower it.
An urge to grab them and shove them into the nearest bin nags at me, but I rein in the impulse, knowing I’ve already acted like enough of a caveman for one night.
I’ve never been one to resort to threats or barely held displays of . . . what would you call this? Possessiveness? A claim on something—someone—that’s mine? But she’s not mine.
Sure, I’ve had my fair share of battles with Dad to prove that I’m every bit the CEO he was for Menon Inc . But fighting for a person, for her attention? That’s uncharted territory.
But then I saw one of the blond idiots reach for her face—touch her fucking skin—and molten lava coursed through my veins.
Honestly, I’m baffled by it all—this overwhelming protectiveness and uncontained fury. This entire arrangement is a farce, destined to dissolve with my mother’s passing. So how is this blind and barely controlled rage rearing its head at the mere sight of someone touching her when she’s not even mine to touch?
Her amber-flecked green gaze assesses me before my own dips to the luscious petal-colored curve of her lips. As those tantalizing lips lift upward, so do my eyes, and I clear my throat, taking a step backward.
“We should?—”
A distant scratching and muffled meows halt my words, and both Piper and I turn to the sound.
Piper smiles. “Someone knows her man is here and she’s anxious to see him.” She turns to me, eyes hopeful. “Would you give my girl some love? I promise, she’s not like this with anyone else.”
I nod, following Piper down the hall. “I was actually wondering where she and the other cats stayed when the salon was closed.”
She glances at me over her shoulder, that mischief I’m getting familiar with dancing in her eyes. “You were thinking about me and my pussy, were you?”
My eyes hood. “Never said anything about you. Your pussy, however . . .?”
Piper turns to face forward again, but not before I catch the pink in her cheeks. Yeah, sweetheart, two can play this game.
She clears her throat. “The salon is open seven days a week, so someone is always here to take care of them, but we put them in this room at night before we leave so they don’t get into trouble or get hurt.” With a turn of a key, she unlocks the door to the cats’ room. “They have their beds, litter box, and water in there.”
Sure enough, Vajayjay slips through the crack in the door as it swings open, heading straight to me. Her large jade-colored eyes take me in before her tiny mouth pulls back for a soft meow, showing me her canines.
I’ve never been a cat guy, never even had an inclination toward them. But did I maybe, possibly, perhaps watch an hour of cat videos on YouTube while I was on my way to Germany? Maybe, possibly, perhaps.
As I bend to scratch behind her gray and pink ears, Vajayjay wastes no time climbing up my arm and laying her head on my shoulder. With each stroke down her back, she rubs her chin against my ear, licking it.
“Holy shit,” Piper exclaims, bewildered. “Who are you, and what have you done to my sassy, ‘I will be owned by no man’ cat?”
Five minutes later, we’ve put Vajayjay back in her room, along with the others, and Piper is turning off the computer at the reception desk.
“You never did answer the two sausages that were in here,” I say, barely holding back a sneer, thinking about the assholes again. “Are you hungry?”
She nods, walking up to me. “Starving. I have a date planned with my frozen pizza. Want to join me? It’s about the only thing I can make.” She smirks before she winks. “I promise not to top it with sausage.” At my glare, she lifts her hands up in surrender. “Too soon. Got it. So, about that pizza . . .?”
“Tempting, but no,” I reply. “I hate pizza.”
Piper’s mouth drops open in disdain. “Who the hell hates pizza? I knew you were a robot.”
Annoyed at myself for not having thought of getting reservations earlier, I pull out my phone, dialing Lenni, my admin. “Can you get me a reservation in thirty minutes at Sakura for two?”
Piper’s widened eyes assess me before she rolls them. “Of course you’d demand a table at the most exclusive and booked-out restaurant in the city, thirty minutes before needing it.”
I raise a brow, sliding my phone back into my pocket. “And I’ll get it, too. You know why?” I lean in so our faces are only an inch apart, not waiting for her answer. “Because I always get what I want.”
“Move in with you?!” Piper practically shrieks, and the patrons at the tables next to us turn to stare. “What do you mean, the amendment is to move in with you?”
I stay composed, having anticipated this reaction from her, given it’s similar to the one when I asked her to marry me.
To be honest, I still can’t believe she agreed to marry a stranger with little to gain on her part, besides using me as the face of her salon and to save its reputation. Not that I would have tarnished its image like I’d threatened.
I’ll admit it was a low-handed move on my part. I wouldn’t have carried through with my threat, but fuck if I didn’t love seeing that fire ignite in her amber-flecked eyes. She was stunning then—all that personality and wit housed inside that petite frame of hers—and she’s mesmerizing now.
Sitting to her right, my eyes travel down her torso, taking in the small breasts beneath her metallic short-sleeved shirt that’s cropped and showing off a smooth, toned stomach above high-waisted black trousers. She’d pulled her hair into a long braid in the back seat of my chauffeured car, and with it out of the way, I can finally admire her slender neck. There’s a line of tiny moles that travel down from it to her collarbone, and it takes everything I have to stay focused on our conversation when all I want to do is trail my tongue over them.
Jesus, she’s a vision, and if I don’t control the fucking boner barely hidden behind the tablecloth draped over my lap, we’re going to end this conversation early.
I take in a long breath. “I need to release a statement to the press tomorrow regarding our engagement. If they think we’re trying to hide it, gossip rags will have a field day. They’ll do that anyway, but I’ve learned that getting ahead of the communication is key. But when it’s all out there, do you realize what’s going to happen?”
“Yes,” she states adamantly. “You might not know this, but I have a pretty famous brother in the NHL. I know that our engagement will get a lot of media attention, but I don’t see how living with you will change anything.”
I knew she was Rowan Parker’s sister—it was part of the background check I had done before asking her to marry me. Still, I pinch the bridge of my nose, no longer interested in the dragonfly noodle dish in front of me. “Let me ask you something, Peter?—”
“ Piper ,” she corrects, those fiery eyes narrowing in determination.
“Do you have paparazzi follow you around everywhere, camping out in front of your salon, or lurking around your condo because of your brother’s fame?”
I can practically see the wheels turning in her head as she connects the dots. “Aside from your visit last week, and a few times when really high-profile clients have come in, no, we haven’t had to deal with cameras. We beef up security when we know celebrities are coming to the salon.”
“Right, but has any of it been for you, specifically?”
She shakes her head. “No. Most people don’t know that I’m related to Rowan.”
“Now imagine the frenzy when they find out you’re marrying the CEO of the world’s most profitable company?” I watch as understanding dawns in her eyes. “Unfortunately, I’m constantly being followed and photographed by the paps. Even more so than my parents. It’s something my ex had to deal with and it made her miserable, and unfortunately, it’s something you’ll have to deal with, too, no matter how much I don’t want that for you.”
“So we’ll beef up security around the salon and my condo. Why would moving in with you make this any better?” she argues.
“Because my house is practically a fortress. Not only is it tucked away from the paparazzi, but it’s also highly secure. Yes, it’ll increase your commute to work, but those are things we can deal with.”
“But—”
I gesture for her to let me continue. “But what I can’t do is take a chance on your safety and privacy, Peter.”
Her shoulders slump. I know she wants to argue, but knows I’m right.
“Of course I’ll increase the security around your salon. The way I was able to get inside past your doorman today? Or the way those two idiots were able to come in past salon hours?” My molars grind, remembering the way they fucking touched her. “Yeah, that shit isn’t going to fly anymore. And staying with me will at least give me the peace of mind that you’re in the safest place possible when you’re home.”
Piper shakes her head. “But it’s not my home.”
I tilt my head. “Then make it yours. You would have had to move in with me after the wedding, anyway. You know, until . . .” I look away, the words stuck in my throat. Fuck, just the thought that my mom won’t be here in mere months cracks my heart open each time it enters my brain.
“I know,” Piper whispers, grasping my hand in my lap, reminding me of how she did the same thing in front of those assholes who showed up at her salon. Her touch tempers the storm inside me, dulling the ache that felt unbearable only moments ago.
I look down at our connected hands, torn between wanting to pull away and needing to tighten our grasp. “It’ll also reinforce the facade. No one will question our relationship if we’re living together.”
As if my words are a bucket of cold water to her emotions, something crosses Piper’s expression. She straightens in her chair, withdrawing her hand from mine, and making me wish I could retract my words.
But I don’t.
Because the more we acknowledge this charade now, the easier it will be for both of us when it inevitably ends. Because there’s no denying it will.
I haven’t known her long enough, but from what I see, the woman is the yin to my yang, my polar opposite in every way that matters, and that’s putting it mildly.
She’s spontaneous, wild, and possibly a little unhinged. She literally prattled on about her plans to breed her rabbits for ten minutes on our way here, for God’s sake, telling me she plays songs like “ Lick It ” by Khia to set the mood for them!
And while she doesn’t shy away from any physical connection, the woman runs for the hills at the mention of commitment. In fact, from what I can tell, she’s committed to chewing the same stick of gum longer than any past relationship.
Meanwhile, I’m steadfast, reliable, and thrive on routine and order. Apart from Camila, I’ve had two other women in my life, both of whom I slept with after having committed to them.
So to even consider something working out between us long term is laughable, given everything—from our personalities, our worlds, and our outlooks—about us is fundamentally different in every way.
We’re silent for a few moments while I dig into my noodles. We still need to discuss our story, given my parents have invited her for dinner this weekend, though I suspect we can keep the premise of how we met relatively the same .
She plays with the dumplings on her plate, still irritated about having to move in with me. I gather she’s wrestling with the changes coming her way over the next few months.
Deciding to give her a few minutes, I refrain from jumping into the next order of business. But as usual, the tables turn as they often do between us, and I realize that when it comes to being a pain in the ass, Piper Parker wins the gold every time.
Her eyes sparkle. “Want me to make your home mine, huh? Fine. But I hope you know what you’re in for, Mr. Menon. There’s a reason my brother wrapped yellow police tape around the wing of the house I occupied when we both lived with our mom.” Her smile turns as saccharine and deranged as the Joker’s. “But I have a feeling you’re the type who likes to learn the hard way. And you’re in luck . . . you know why?” She doesn’t wait for my response. “Because I’m a damn good teacher.”