The Wife Arrangement

My stomach sinks into the floor.

Accounting? I didn’t come here to learn how to balance budgets. My forehead creases in disappointment. But hey, the rotations change every couple of weeks. Just because I don’t get to work in design or something fun right away doesn’t mean I won’t get my chance eventually. I just have to do well at this, prove myself—prove that I’m more than just Jasper’s current gold-digging fiancée—and then I’ll have my shot.

Maybe a boring assignment is for the best anyway, when I have so much extra work on the side.

Work. Part of me laughs to think of our agreement that way now. It may have started out as an on-paper agreement, but it certainly doesn’t feel that way anymore. Not after tasting his kisses, feeling his huge cock buried inside me. Not after watching the way his face goes slack and his eyes focused on me, crying out my name when he finishes deep in me.

“—Says she heard them talking in the parking lot,” one of the girls ahead of me on my way out the door is whispering. “She was berating him for opening her car door. She said they should let the valets do that.”

“Oh, my God. How pompous can you get?” another hisses.

“Shh.” The third one elbows the other two, and all three turn plastic-fake grins on, just in time for me to emerge from the office.

My face turns beet-red. But I can imagine who told them that. Caroline. My heart sinks, remembering my lighthearted teasing of Jasper. I guess from the outside that might have sounded douchey… But I didn’t mean it that way. Surely Caroline must have heard the way I said it, how we were joking.

I think about what Jasper told me, about them hooking up once years ago. Is that why she hates me now?

Is that why these other girls are casting sideways glances at the rock on my finger, and tittering and elbowing one another, as though I can’t see them, as though I’m not standing right here?

“So, accounting,” I say, in an attempt to stave off any more banter. “Pretty boring assignment, huh?”

“I’ll find anything we’re assigned to do here fascinating, I’m sure,” one girl replies with a turn of her shoulder.

Another offers me an apologetic smile—the one who told the other two to shush when I approached—but she, too, turns away to follow the others down the hall.

“Some of us have to work for our positions, after all,” the first girl who spoke mutters as we march through the corridors.

I drop my head, clench my fists inside my pockets where no one will be able to see them. Where no one will be able to see the ring, either. How much more of this can I handle?

This isn’t forever, I remind myself. I just need to keep my head down, work hard, and get a good recommendation from Jasper. Then move on, go to school, get a better job, somewhere I won’t immediately be branded as the gold-digger sleeping with the boss.

But they’re right, aren’t they? says out the little nagging voice at the back of my head. That’s exactly what you’re doing, isn’t it?

So I should be punished for it? I argue back mentally. These girls don’t know me or Jasper. What if it was true love?

What if it is?

I shove that feeling down into the pit of my stomach. There it can grow, turn to poison, sicken me from the inside out. But I refuse to even think it. Not when this has already blown up into a bigger, more complicated mess than I ever anticipated.

What have I gotten myself into?

The moment I get a minute to myself, I slip into the bathroom to text Melissa back. I tell her the whole story—the hookup, the mornings after. The return to the office, and the glares I’m getting from just about everyone else here.

Okay, well firstly, screw those gossipers, she replies, which makes me almost smile. Let she who is without sin cast the first stone, or whatever, if we’re going Biblical. But more importantly—how was it???

Amazing, is the only thing I can think to reply. Because it was. He was, more than I’d ever expected. But I don’t know if it’s worth all this fall-out, I add quickly. I should be keeping my eye on my professional goals right now.

Girl, you do. You’re a workaholic, you love cars—I have exactly zero doubts that you’re pulling your weight at this internship. Who cares what those other girls think? They don’t know the full story. All that matters if that you’re enjoying yourself. And that hunky-as-hell husband of yours.

She adds a whole slew of winking faces, and I snort. This time, my smile is almost fully real. Thanks. I’ll try and remember that. But I can’t shake the nagging sensation that maybe, for once in our years-long friendship, Melissa might be wrong. Because if this is how other girls in my own office are judging me for the side-gig I’ve accepted, how will it look once the wider world learns I’m supposed to marry Jasper Quint?

* * *

“How was your day?” Jasper meets me in the lobby with a bouquet of flowers and a huge, shit-eating grin on his face. But his expression dips a little when I don’t return it.

“Not bad,” I say, accepting the flowers with a forced smile. I lean up to kiss his cheek.

“Uh uh.” He leans away. “Not buying it. What happened?”

“Nothing happened.” My cheeks turn bright red, not for the first time throughout this long, long day of pretending I didn’t overhear all the stuff the other girls were saying while we worked through a huge stack of overdue invoices down in accounting, inputting them into the computer, making up spreadsheets… “I just got put into accounting for my first rotation. It’s fine, just…”

“A lot of busywork?” Jasper nods, knowingly, to my surprise. “Been there. My dad started me in accounting for the first two years I worked here. Wouldn’t let me advance into any of the fun stuff until I got a grasp on how the financial side of the business worked.” He smiles a little wryly.

“Well. Two years? I certainly can’t complain about two weeks then.” I laugh. But my worried expression remains, and after a beat, he rests a hand on the small of my back and shoots a glance over my head toward the receptionist’s desk on the far end of the lobby.

Caroline is not so subtly glaring daggers at us over her computer screen.

“Did anything else happen?” he asks. “Did Caroline try and mess with your head? She’s done that before, to another girl I had a fling with down in engineering…”

“How many girls here have you had flings with?” I roll my eyes and elbow his side. “Sounds like you should be getting the flak around here, not me.”

“You’re getting flak?” A worried crease appears between his brows.

“No, I mean… That’s not…” I shake my head. “It’s fine.” The last thing I want to do is stir up more trouble, or get anyone a bad name with higher-up management just because they’re spreading perfectly true gossip about me.

“What’s going on? Talk to me, Dee.”

“It’s just hard, you know?” I draw my left hand out of my pocket for what feels like the first time in hours and let the ring catch the overhead lights as we stride through the lobby, out toward Jasper’s car. “I feel like I just painted a target on my back. Everyone knows who I am now, and not for anything I’ve done, but just because I’m Jasper’s Quint’s out-of-nowhere fiancée.”

He laughs for a second. “That sounds like the bad title of a romance novel.” Then he sobers, after a glance at my face. “No, I understand. I have to admit, I didn’t really think about this side of things when we made our, ah…” He waits until we clear the doors and reach the empty parking lot, and are halfway to his car before he speaks again. “This arrangement.” He opens the door for me like usual, and I smile up at him as I climb into the passenger side seat.

“It’s okay, really. I’ll get used to it.”

“If you’d prefer, you don’t have to work with the other interns,” he says, once he’s in the driver’s seat. “I can have you moved to another area of the company—”

“Oh, no. That would only make it worse.” I wince, just imagining the rumors that would fly then. S

he’s sleeping with him so he’ll play favorites and give her whatever assignment she wants. “Really, Jasper. I have to handle this fall-out from our bargain. I’ll deal with it, okay?” I rest my hand over his on the gearshift. “Now, do you mind dropping me off at home?”

“I can.” His gaze drifts to me. Holds mine. “Or we could go back to my condo.”

My heart skips a beat. “Are you sure?” I ask. Not what I meant to say. What I meant to say was Thanks but I need to go home first. I have to change, I need to drop off my luggage… Instead, I find myself leaning across the console toward him, smiling, as he mirrors me and leans in too.

“Absolutely,” he murmurs. Then our lips meet, and I sink into his kiss, and I forget about it all. The worries. The fear about what people are saying. Who cares about any of that?

He slides one hand around my waist, draws me toward him, until I’m practically half on the gear shift, and his hand runs up the front of my dress, caressing my bra, teasing my nipple, taunting me with what’s awaiting me back at his condo. Back when we’re alone again, just the two of us, no pressure from anybody else to be or say or do what they find appropriate.

I have what I need right here, I think, and sink into his kiss.

9

Jasper

Dee and I fall into a rhythm. Nights at my place—long nights that I curse for ending. Nights when I take her every way I want her, in every room my the condo. I fuck her against the front door one night, unable to wait a second longer because the pencil skirt she’s wearing is driving me wild. I hike it up around her hips, pick her up and brace her body with mine, her legs wrapped around my waist as I fuck her against the wood paneling, her hands digging into my shoulders, the nails leaving half-moons on my shoulders that make me smile when I see them morning.

Another night I fuck her on the kitchen counter, distracted halfway through us attempting to cook dinner together. We burn the rice, and wind up ordering delivery instead. While we’re waiting on that, I bend her over the arm of the couch, thrust deep into her, again and again until we’re both breathless and she’s screaming my name at the top of her lungs.

The third night we come home together, my neighbor issues a noise complaint. In response, we make sure to fuck on the floor right above his bedroom, her with the pair of high heels she wore to work still on, so they clatter against the floor for extra sound effects.

I don’t know what’s gotten into me. I’ve never been like this before, never felt like this about a woman. I sext her all day long, asking for selfies, and when she finally caves in on Friday and sneaks into the ladies’ room to send me a snapshot of the panties she’s wearing, barely covering the lines of her clean-shaven pussy, I have to cancel an afternoon meeting to lock myself in my private office bathroom and jerk off, my hand tightly fisted around my cock, eyes squeezed tight shut as I picture her perfect tits, the way her ass bounces when I fuck her on all fours.

The office, of course, is a rumor mill on steroids. Caroline has stopped speaking to me altogether, passing me my mail with a cold, blank stare. Finally. If only I knew this was all I needed to do in order to get her to stop pining after me.

But I do feel bad about the effect all these rumors are having on Dee. She tries to hide it, tries to cover up the way it upsets her, but I can read it on her face at dinner, anytime I ask her about her day, about the internship. She blames it all on accounting, but I know better. I just feel so helpless. She asked me not to reassign her, not to play favorites, and I get what she means, that would look worse. But surely there has to be something I can do, some way to make up for this mess I’ve stuck her in.

After all, it’s not like she really strode in here trying to play gold-digger. Greg and I picked her out of a stack of applicants because we knew she’d be the least likely candidate to win my father’s affections. We knew whispers about a broke girl seducing me this fast would raise red flags everywhere. We molded her into this shape, and now she’s the one being blamed for it.

It’s not fair.

But then, I never expected Dee to be… well, Dee. I never expected to meet a woman like her, a woman I can discuss every topic that pops into my mind with, from car specs to baseball, which it turns out we’re both obsessed with, to any old topic I stumble across in the morning news or hear on the radio. She’s smart, she’s funny, she’s well-versed in pop culture. She’s the total package. Wife material, as some might say.

Turns out that in fake marriages, I know how to pick ‘em. But what happens when that fake marriage is beginning to feel far too real for me? What happens when our business arrangement runs out, and I don’t want it to end?

These are the thoughts running through my head when I run into Greg on my way into work the Monday before our reunion. We fly to Greece two days from now, and all I can think about is Dee, and what’s going to happen once we get to the other side of this reunion. What’s going to become of the nights we steal together, the mornings we have before we come into the office. All the thousand little in-between moments, stolen glances over the water cooler, winks while we wait in separate cafeteria lines at work. Feeling my veins catch fire whenever my phone buzzes with a text from her.

“Looking forward to getting this over with?” Greg asks with a grin, gesturing me toward his office, and for a second, I don’t even comprehend what he means.

“Hmm?” I step inside, wait for the door to shut.

“The reunion. Are you looking forward to all the charade stuff being done? By the way, excellent acting job, you two. You ought to get Emmys for your performances.” Greg circles around to the far side of his desk and picks up a folder, passing it to me. “Here’s the flight information you requested, along with schedules for the weekend—airport pickup details, hotel info, all in there. And your father’s putting together a cocktail welcome night, first night we get to Greece.”

I’m staring at the envelope like I’ve just been slapped in the face.

Greg frowns at me. “Everything all right?” His eyebrows rise. “Look, if you’re worried about how this is going to go down, don’t be, Jasper. She’s perfect. Seriously. Some of those dollar store outfits she’s been wearing to work lately, not to mention all the rumors all over the office? Your father is going to lose his shit when he meets her. She’s his worst nightmare made manifest.” Greg looks positively giddy at the thought of it. “Maybe we can start a rumor that she’s planning to pawn the rock you gave her as soon as the ink’s dry on the marriage license too. You know, for good measure.”

I glare at him.

His expression falls, only a little. “What? I thought you guys planned all this. She’s the gold-digger bride who teaches your dad a much-needed lesson about meddling in his son’s affairs, when those affairs shouldn’t be related to your performance at the office. No?”

“Don’t talk about her like that,” I say, my voice low and angry. My stomach clenches. I mean, yes, that was the plan. But just hearing Greg describe her like that turns my stomach.

What am I going to do if my father does do what we want? If he demands that I leave Dee? I went into this wanting a wife he’d hate, so he’d let me off the hook, demand I divorce her and leave me alone to take over as CEO whether I have a wife on my arm and a passel of kids underfoot or not.

But now…

Now, I’m realizing, I might not want to leave her. Even if Dad does demand it.

Greg, meanwhile, is staring at me like I’ve grown a second head. “Jasper.” He crosses around to my side of the table now, and takes the files from my hands for a moment, so he can rest his hands on my shoulders and level with me, eye to eye. “Dude. I know I’m your assistant and all, but as your distant cousin… As your friend, are you all right? You’ve been acting super weird since this charade started, and now, what, you’re telling me you don’t want me to call her what we’re currently hoping everyone here is calling her?”

“You don’t understand.” I brush his hands off my shoulders and reach for the file, ready to

storm out.

Greg starts to laugh, then. “Oh, my God. Are you actually falling for her, Jasper?”

“Of course not,” I snap, instinctively. Immediately, a surge of guilt rises in my stomach. I’m not. Am I?

“Did we choose too well? Did we pick the one gold-digger who’s actually capable of hitting pay dirt with you? Because I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look so riled up before, not even on the test track, let alone over some girl.”

“She’s not just some girl,” I snap. “She’s going to be my wife. At least, as far as the public knows. I won’t have her talked about like this.”

“So you don’t want your father to hate her after all then?” Greg quirks a brow. “Because if not, she is going to need a serious makeover, and a new background story before she meets him, I gotta say—”

“I’m not listening to any more of this.” I turn the doorknob, file tucked under my arm. “You’re my assistant, Greg. Do as I tell you, and show my fiancée some respect.” With that, I slam the door on him and head out of the building. Toward my car, where Dee will already be waiting, leaning against the hood, sunning herself the way she always does until I meet her out here to drive her home.

Home. My condo has never really felt like a home before. Not without her in it. I used to work overtime all the time, spend countless hours in the office, but now… Now I can’t wait to get there. Can’t wait to tear the place apart with her.

The moment Dee pushes herself off the hood of my car, smiling, arms spread wide to greet me—the moment I step into those arms and pull her body against mine, her curves melding into mine, a perfect fit, and my mouth claims hers—I feel right. I feel whole again.

Screw whatever Greg thinks. Screw what anyone thinks. She and I will figure this out together.