He rolled his eyes and ground his teeth to dust. It hurt, since he’d been doing it the entire time he was in the shower. “Turn around. I have to get some clothes on. I’m not going to have this discussion in a towel.”
Surprisingly, she actually complied. When she was facing the wall, she opened her mouth again. “I think we should order some room service. I might as well get something out of this deal. Maybe we’ll both feel better with something in our stomach.”
“Right. So you can run up my credit card.”
“Of course. What’s a wife for?”
Despite his shitty past with a few women he’d thought actually loved him doing just that, Brock had to smile. She didn’t know. She might assume that he had some money, based on the room, but she didn’t know.
He pulled open his suitcase and a sickening thought hit him in the gut. Fuck. He was legally married to her. What did that mean? Could he just apply for an annulment? Even after they’d obviously consummated the marriage? He had no doubt they’d had sex last night. He’d definitely seen two used condoms in the bathroom garbage. Two.
He had a company to think about and protect. Assets. The money was the last of his worries. It was all the people who depended on him for jobs. What the hell have I done?
He was a hundred percent sure their drunken marriage didn’t involve a pre-nup.
“Go ahead and order whatever you want. I- yeah. Just do that.” Maybe if he was nice, gave her what she wanted and was agreeable, she’d sign the annulment without a hitch. Something in his gut tightened.
Or maybe not. Maybe he could actually kill two birds with one stone, as cliché as that was. He knew his parents wanted him to settle down and get married. He wasn’t young anymore, not that thirty-five was old, but to his mother, he might as well have been ancient. She wanted grandkids. She wanted him to be happy. People always said money couldn’t bring that, and it was true. In his experience, it brought the exact opposite when it came to love.
If he was already married, he didn’t have to worry about that anymore. This woman, whoever she was, maybe she wasn’t that bad when he got to know her. Maybe she’d agree to stay married to him. It might not be a conventional marriage, but he could make her comfortable. He could get on with his business and she could- well- start a new life that involved nicer things, compliments of whatever agreement they came to. He wouldn’t have to worry about love and heartbreak and all that bullshit. She wouldn’t have to worry about lack of money.
All the women from his past would have jumped at a chance for an agreement like that.
The thing that made it different, was that this one married him and slept with him without knowing who he was and that she’d get anything out of the deal other than him.
Drunk or not, it meant something.
Brock slipped on a grey t-shirt and a pair of jeans. He heard the woman’s- he really had to get her name- voice on the phone, ordering what sounded like a banquet of food. She knew there was only two of them, right?
His resolve grew by the minute. What was wrong with a good old-fashioned marriage of convenience? His own parents had separate rooms and had since he was born. Once he was conceived, that was it. They stayed together because they were friendly and tolerated each other and for his sake, and for the sake of appearances. They stayed together because it would have been harder not to. They weren’t exactly unhappy. They got along better than most married couples.
He never wanted that for himself, but heck, a lot of marriages were worse. Who knew, it could even turn into something else eventually. He was jaded as hell about love, but he wasn’t going to rule it out entirely.
Maybe, just maybe, he’d convince this woman that the horrible decision they’d made last night wasn’t so horrible after all.
It didn’t hurt that she was stunningly beautiful. Or that in her zest for ordering breakfast, she’d leaned toward the phone, pulling his loose-fitting t-shirt taut across the swells of her breasts, revealing the hard peaks of her straining nipples.
Brock’s cock jumped to life so hard that the head probably bore the imprint of his zipper.
Maybe she’d just agree to stay married. There was probably more than one way to convince her. A secondary plan formed in his man brain, the part that was ruled by his dick and not normal nerves and blood vessels and all that. He decided to pull out all the stops and go with Plan A. Plan B could wait. It didn’t hurt to see who she really was.