20. Piper
twenty
piper
Maybe Rub Up Against His Leg
Unknown number
Any chance you’d be up for meeting your old man tomorrow? I can be wherever you want. Or I can come to your salon.
Me
Unless you’re looking for your ass to land in jail, do not show up here.
Unknown number
Oh, well, hello there, daughter! I figured that was the only way to get you to respond to me. Fine, if I’m not allowed in your precious place of business, then tell me where and when.
Me
No. Leave me the fuck alone, Dad. I have nothing to say to you.
Unknown number
It doesn’t matter if you have anything to say to me or not, Peppercorn. I have some things to say to you. In fact, I have some things to ask of you. Where and when?
Unknown number
Ignoring me again will only make me more insistent.
Unknown number
Piper?
Unknown number
Don’t be the ungrateful bitch I expected you to be.
Unknown number
Piper?
“ P lease tell me this photoshoot doesn’t involve you getting near me with a pair of scissors,” my fiancé drawls as he scrolls his phone. He’s leaning against a wall nonchalantly, while photographers buzz around adjusting lights and fussing with the background.
We converted the cats’ room for our photoshoot today. They’re not happy about it—meowing as if we replaced their gourmet food with rotten kale—but let’s not get into that.
I give him the stink eye. “Are we ever going to get past that? You know I have a list of stick-up-their-asses clientele like you, don’t you? They’re perfectly happy with my services.”
That gets his attention.
Sliding his phone into his pocket, he gives me that intense stare that always manages to make my lady bits stand at attention like they’re contestants on The Voice . “Your services ?”
I cross my arms around my chest, internally high-fiving myself for drawing his gaze to my breasts. His eyes slide lower, taking in my exposed midriff. I’m in a long-sleeve white crop top and flared denims that accentuate my ass, my hair in two long braids over my breasts.
“Yes. My services. Are your ears still plugged from the flight, Menon?”
He leans in, his subtle woodsy cologne adding to all the things happening to my lady bits. “My ears are fine, but if you don’t check that attitude, your ass will earn a very special kind of . . . service.”
I reel back just in time for one of the photographers to yell, “We’re ready for you, Mr. Menon.”
Dev smirks at me, strutting over to take his position in front of the cameras like he’s a peacock at a pigeon gathering. Arrogant asshole.
“Not going to lie, your fake fiancé is hot as fucking Hades,” Sarina whispers in my ear, having materialized beside me out of thin air.
She must have slipped in a minute ago, but I hadn’t noticed. Probably because I don’t notice much else when a snooty billionaire is taking up all the space in the room. I turn toward her, noticing she’s carrying Snatch in her arms like a newborn baby.
I snort with an eye roll, masking my agreement. “Yeah? Well, Hades just called. He says he wants his ego back. Trust me, my fiancé’s hotness is directly proportional to his . . .” I purse my lips, not finishing my thought on purpose, making both Sarina and I giggle before her cat decides she’s had enough and demands to leave the room.
Sarina lets Snatch out before turning to me with a huge smile stretched on her face.
“Oh my God! You fucked him, didn’t you?” she whispers, placing her hand over her mouth this time as if someone could read her lips otherwise.
“No.” I shake my head, but my eyes connect with the man in question, smoldering at me like he knows the subject of our conversation. “What I meant to say is, that his hotness is directly proportional to his pain-in-the-ass factor, and they are both insufferable.”
“Uh huh,” she drones. “Is that why you both can’t seem to stop looking at each other like neither of you has eaten a meal in months? Guarantee if no one was here right now, you would be ripping each other’s clothes off.”
“You forget. I live with the man and that has yet to occur.”
Not for the lack of trying, of course.
Seriously, I put my best foot forward, wearing my cutest bikini and everything, but nope, the man has the restraint of a celibate monk.
I don’t, though. My restraint is hanging on by a fucking thread.
“Maybe he’s trying to be practical,” Sarina muses. “Maybe he thinks that once you get physical, it will only become more challenging to untangle when it ends.”
I scoff, plucking invisible lint off my shirt. “Then he doesn’t know me at all. Entanglements aren’t things I get tangled in.”
I don’t have to look at my best friend to know she’s rolling her eyes. Thankfully, she’s interrupted mid-eye roll when we hear desperate scratching at the door.
Sarina’s just about to open it when I stop her. “It’s Vajayjay,” I say with a sigh. “She’s been trying to come in ever since she saw Dev walk in here. And if she’s in here, she probably won’t let him finish the shoot.”
Sarina folds her bottom lip in a pouty face. “Aww, poor girl. She just wants a little love from her man.”
“She practically licked him to death as soon as he entered,” I counter. “She’s gotten more action than I have. I can’t even believe I’m saying this, but I might be jealous of my cat!”
Sarina giggles. “I mean, maybe you should take notes. She’s clearly doing something right.” At my death stare, my asshole best friend, world renowned for her brutal honesty, continues, “Maybe rub up against his leg or purr in his ear or something.”
“Wow,” I say in mock indignation. “Thanks for the words of wisdom, Yoda. Also . . .” I mumble the rest of my words, hoping she doesn’t hear them, “I already tried both of those things, and the asshole still didn’t budge.”
Sarina throws her head back, laughing, catching the attention of various people working the shoot. Despite my efforts, my face heats up, and of course, that doesn’t go unmissed by the gorgeous overlord, A.K.A. my husband-to-be. His eyes hold mine before the corners of his lips turn up in a smug smile, like he thinks he’s the reason for my blush.
He is, of course, but I hate how he knows it.
A second later, Sarina must decide enough is enough because she swings the door ajar, letting Vajayjay slip inside. And what does my cat do?
Yup, less than ten seconds later, she’s purring in Dev’s lap, climbing his shoulders while the cameras continue clicking.
“I heard you visited my mom yesterday,” Dev says, looking at me through the mirror.
He’s sitting on my salon chair, looking like a GQ model in a cat sanctuary, with not just my cat sprawled out on his lap, but Beaver and Snatch pawing his leg for attention. The image is both absurd and absurdly adorable. It’s like I’m watching a feline version of his fan club, and to be honest, I’m not sure I’m not a member.
Dev scratches the back of Vajayjay’s ear absentmindedly, his long fingers moving in a way that has me thinking about all the things those fingers could do. My traitorous cat arches into his touch, purring even louder while making eye contact with me. I swear the little ho knows I would switch spots with her in a second and is making a show of getting what I can’t have.
See if I give you that catnip you’ve been jonesing for, little heathen. Momma’s going to keep it all for herself because clearly, you don’t know how to share.
Dev is on a twenty-minute break, waiting for the photographers to call him again after they’ve changed up the set. He’s also supposed to be changing into a suit once I’ve restyled his hair, but as it stands, I’m having a hard time recalling why we’d want to cover up what he’s currently wearing.
I take a second to admire him in his polo and trousers. The fabric clings to his bulging biceps and thighs like it’s painted on, reminding me of the unexpected and incredibly welcomed show I got this morning when I was on my way to work. I ogled him through the glass doors of his home gym, doing pull-ups with the focused intensity of a man scaling Everest. Each upward movement made the muscles of his back and biceps ripple under his sweat-soaked skin, and his ass was so fucking delectable and taut in his gym shorts, I practically short-circuited.
I run my fingers through his dark hair, touching it up with some gel. “Yeah. I wanted to see if she had any requests for the wedding and run some plans by her.”
His expression is a mix of surprise and . . . appreciation, perhaps? “That’s kind of you to include her.”
I shrug. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I? Isn’t she the reason we’re doing this?”
A strange silence passes between us, and my words settle like leaden weight amidst the tension. Do the lies we’re spinning, the unexpected emotions, and the eventuality of this arrangement affect him, too? Because I can’t seem to find my way through them most nights when I place my head on my pillow.
Dev drops his gaze to my cat, almost like he can’t seem to hold mine anymore, but not before I see a flicker of something—longing? Anguish?—before his mask of cool composure replaces it once again.
And suddenly, I’m overly aware of all our points of contact, the air between us thickening with something I’m not ready to name. I search for a way to redirect us back into normal, less-turbulent waters where we banter without acknowledging the shifting foundation beneath our current arrangement.
Dev must sense the change too, because he takes a breath, finding my eyes in the mirror again. “Anything else you both talked about?”
Seizing the opportunity, I waggle my brows. “Oh, you know,” I say, my stomach unclenching slowly, “just some girl-talk. Why? Afraid we were talking about you?” I adjust a few more strands of his hair, a mischievous grin forming across my face. “Don’t worry, we have far more interesting things to talk about than the great Dev Menon.”
Dev suppresses a smile, but I feel the tension dissipate between us. “I wouldn’t doubt it.”
Emboldened by our shift back to familiar territory, I decide maybe now would be a good time to drop a little bombshell. “I was telling her how my birthday was coming up,” I say lightly, hoping the little tidbit of information will pique his interest. “She wanted to know my plans.”
“Your birthday is coming up? When?”
Bingo!
“This Saturday,” I say, aiming for casual, but feeling a weird flutter of anticipation inside my chest. “I’m turning the big three-oh.”
He clears his throat, shoving away what I think is uncertainty. For a man who exudes confidence and self-assuredness through boardrooms and billion-dollar deals, it’s both heartwarming and thrilling to see this moment of hesitation toward me. “Do you . . . do you have any plans?”
“I do, actually,” I say, moving around to face him. I lean my hip against the counter, aware of how this position brings us eye to eye. “I’m taking your sister to Disneyland.”
Dev’s eyes widen. “You’re taking Deena to Disneyland ?”
I nod, enjoying his reaction all too much. “Yeah, we discussed it when I saw her yesterday. Your mom didn’t have a problem with it. The last time I went was with Rowan years ago, and it’s something I’ve wanted to do again. Deena said it’s been a few years for her, too, so we thought we’d make a weekend of it and stay at the park on Saturday night.”
“Just you and her?” Dev asks, and I can’t quite decipher his tone. Is that just curiosity? Surprise? Or do I sense some disappointment, too?
“Well, no . . .” I say, studying his face. “Ralph is going to come with us, since I know you wouldn’t like us going alone. I just figured you’re always so busy, so I didn’t ask.”
I pause for effect, barely suppressing a grin and hoping he bites. I’m already looking forward to making Claire’s wish come true.
“Unless . . . you want to join us?”
He ponders the question for a moment. “Yeah. I’ll cancel my plans.”
“Really?” My brows rise. Honestly, I didn’t think it was going to be this easy to persuade the workaholic I’m to be marrying. “Are you serious?”
He shrugs. “Yeah. We’ll take the jet. I’ll also have my admin make a call to our VIP tour guide to make special arrangements so we can have privacy and security during our?—”
“God,” I breathe, a little overwhelmed. I knew Rowan dealt with needing security when he went to public places, but this is on a level I hadn’t considered. “Maybe Disneyland isn’t the right place this year?—”
“Peter,” Dev says, getting my attention. “If Disneyland is where you want to go for your birthday, it’s where we’ll go. I just want to make sure we have the privacy we need.”
“It just seems like a huge hassle now that I think about it. Maybe we can just watch a movie at home, instead.”
Dev’s nostrils flare. “We’re not watching a movie at home for your thirtieth birthday, Peter. And it isn’t a hassle; it’s a matter of me making a single phone call.”
I twist my hands together, looking down at them, feeling a tightness in my chest I hadn’t expected. No matter how many times I’ve tried to catch him off-guard or entice him, the man knows how to turn the tables around on me.
“Thank you,” I murmur softly.
“You’re welcome,” he replies, just as Vajayjay decides she’s had enough of our tension-filled banter, getting up on her hind legs so her front paws are on Dev’s chest. She stares into his eyes deeply before licking his scruff.
I giggle, shaking my head at my attention hog cat as she settles back on his lap. “I’m not sure she’s going to let you even go back to work.”
Dev finds my eyes, and I’m not sure he’s just referring to her when he says, “Maybe I want to spend the day with her, too.”
A zing of electricity courses through me before I muse, “Lucky pussy.”
Dev’s brow rises, a smirk playing on his lips. “You jealous, Peter?”
“No,” I respond, taking a deliberate step toward him. His eyes darken, tracking my movement. I reach out, seemingly to adjust a few more strands of his already-perfect hair, letting my fingers trail down to his sideburns and his stubbled jaw. “Just waiting for my turn. But let’s just say if I was on your lap, you’d be walking out of here with your pants drenched.”
Dev’s tongue darts out, wetting his bottom lip, seeming to consider his next words. “Is that a threat or a promise?”
In a move I wasn’t anticipating myself, I scoop Vajayjay into my arms, carrying her out of the room with her siblings curiously following their sister. Placing them in the hallway, I ignore their protest as I close the door and turn the lock behind me.
When I return, Dev is still seated, studying me with a mixture of curiosity and anticipation, his hands tightening over the arms of the chair.
My voice, low and steady, despite the way my heart is hammering inside my chest, I answer his question, “Maybe we should find out.”