Marry Me Now: An Arranged Marriage Collection

But then the doors open, and he walks in.

And my stomach plummets all the way through the concrete floor of this bunkerlike office. Suddenly, I can’t breathe. I can’t focus on anything, least of all the carefully detailed notes I’d planned on taking.

Because there he is. My new boss, the CEO of Pitfire Media and head of the company I’ve wanted to work for ever since I moved to Los Angeles.

My new husband, John Walloway, I realize with a sinking sensation in the pit of my stomach. Youngest CEO of a major media company ever, a veritable genius and a workaholic to judge by the tabloid reports—or lack thereof—about him. But he certainly didn’t seem work-focused last weekend when he was fucking me six ways from Sunday.

He’s glancing around the room, a polite but disinterested smile on his face as he nods to each new hire in turn. Until he reaches me. Then he stops, stutters. It’s just for a second, but it’s a long enough pause to let me know that he sees me. He realizes what it means that I’m here.

And I’m gratified to realize that he didn’t expect this either, at least. He seems just as stunned as I am.

But it doesn’t stop the slow, self-satisfied grin that spreads across his face as he keeps his gaze locked onto mine. The sea of people around us seems to vanish, and for a split second, it’s just the two of us in this room. He looks like he’s just won a damn medal. Like his whole body is bursting with the need to tell me I knew you couldn’t stay away.

And the worst part is, as I watch him now, I’m afraid he’s right.

How the hell am I going to stay away from him now?

4

John

The moment I walk into the conference room on Monday morning, it’s like I can sense her. Like the rest of the room fades away and all I can focus on is Mara.

My new wife.

But why is she here, of all places? Sitting in the orientation session for Pitfire’s newest hires. I don’t remember hiring anyone named Mara Greene—I kept our marriage certificate close, so I’d be able to look her up and reach out to her if she stood me up for breakfast yesterday. Which she did. A predictable move.

This, on the other hand… This, I didn’t see coming. Which is probably why it makes me grin so much.

That, and it’s just a natural reaction to the sensation of my cock stiffening at the sight of her. It’s not my fault. One glimpse and I’m back in that hotel room, watching her on all fours in front of me, begging me to put my cock in her mouth, to fuck her from behind on the shag carpet, to spread-eagle her across the bed and have my way with her.

And oh, how I did. Every way I could think of, and yet here I am, still craving more. There aren’t many—no, correction, there are no women who have done this to me before. Not even my most recent ex, who I’d thought at the time was pretty decent in the sack.

She was nothing compared to Mara. Nobody has been. Which was why I was feeling pretty damn lucky that she’s the one who wound up with my mother’s vintage ring on her finger. I carry it for sentimental reasons mostly, after my mother foisted it on me years ago, insisting that I find someone to marry and carry on the family name. I’d only really considered putting it on someone’s finger once, and every tabloid in America has reported on how well that idea turned out.

But Mara was different. With Mara, after one night I wanted to give her the world.

Then the next morning, she woke up a different person. Acting like I was dirt, some random nobody who tricked her into a marriage she didn’t want. As if it hadn’t been her idea in the first place.

But something about that reaction, her anger and even her annoyance that I wouldn’t just end the marriage after a single night, made me even more certain that I wanted her. Because it told me she wasn’t faking. Mara Greene had no idea who I was.

It’s written all over her face now too, as she watches me, stunned in shock. She didn’t know I was the CEO of the company she’d just joined. She didn’t know I’m worth billions. It’s not only refreshing, it’s reassuring, too. Because she couldn’t be a gold-digger, coming after me for my money, trying to drain away my hard-earned work, if she didn’t even know I had any money.

Well. The ring was probably a clue that I had some, but still.

One glance down, and my grin widens. Mara realizes her mistake and jerks her hand off the table a second later, flipping the diamond around under her palm, but it’s too late. I saw it.

She’s still wearing the ring.

That has to mean something, doesn’t it?

And now, as much as she hates me—as much as she clearly wanted nothing more to do with me after our night together—here she is. Forced to work under me. I already know from what I got to know of her last weekend that work for Mara is everything: it’s her first and last priority, and all the rest in between. She won’t quit this job. She’d see it as a point of pride to stick it out.

Which means I’ve got her at my whim. My smile turns possessive, eager.

Oh, I’ll have fun with this. I’ll make her wait until she’s the one begging me again. Just remembering the sound of her voice as she pleaded with me to let her come again is enough to make my cock inch toward dangerously hard while I’m standing at the front of a room full of employees.

With effort, I tear my gaze from Mara, pleased in the knowledge that I’ll have all the time in the world to win her over. And oh, how I intend to. Because she might have fuzzy memories of our wedding night, but I remember every single second. And I’m not about to let her slip through my fingers.

Just wait, little kitten, I think with a smile as I clap my hands for attention to get this meeting started. Just wait.

Her eyes lock on mine again, and I could almost swear she’s thinking similar thoughts based on the way her eyes widen and her lips part, her cheeks flush in that pink-tinged way they do whenever she’s nervous—or hot and eager for action. So probably a little bit of both right now.

“Thank you all for being here today,” I say with a broad smile. “If you’ve made it this far, then congratulations. You are the cream of the crop. Some of the best this industry has to offer—I should know, because I personally made sure our hiring process is the most rigorous out there.” It seems Mara’s talk about working hard and playing hard in the club was spot-on, if she’s here today. It still surprises me that I didn’t recognize her name from the applicant pool while we were dancing—normally I approve every new hire, but last week I was distracted, eager for the weekend and some release. And then when I met her, well… for once in a very, very long time, work was the last thing on my mind.

But it reassures me that we have more in common than she thinks we do, if she’s here at Pitfire. She must be determined and smart to have landed this position.

Determined, smart, hot, sexy as hell in bed… I sure chose my new wife well, didn’t I?

I force thoughts of her from my mind again while I focus on the new hires, all watching me with upturned faces and eager eyes. “I won’t bore you with any long lectures today, as I know you’re all eager to get started at your new positions. Your direct managers will explain your day-to-day schedule with you after this meeting, as well as orienting you and training you for any equipment and procedures you may need to learn. I just wanted to call you all in this morning to meet you each individually, face-to-face. As CEO, it can be easy to lose track of people, especially in a company this large.”

I look at Mara again, grinning. “So I make it a personal point of pride to get to know each and every one of my employees, from the top all the way on down to our newest hires. If you ever run up against anything you need help with, or any areas where you think the company can improve, my office is always open. I started this company from nothing, with nothing but my own ingenuity and creativity. So I always welcome new suggestions, no matter whether they’re from long-standing employees or new ones. All of your opinions and ideas matter here at Pitfire.”

The room bursts into applause, and I chuckle under my breath. Mar

a doesn’t clap, I notice. She has her hands tightly clasped together under the table, her right hand wrapped protectively around the left one, almost like she’s toying with the ring right now. Probably wondering what my game is.

Oh, she has no idea.