Hooking Up (Shacking Up 2)

“I think an arrest record counts. Your father had to work pretty hard to keep that under wraps, didn’t he? It really isn’t very good for business, is it?”

“I don’t have an arrest record.” I was just hanging out with someone who did, which was essentially the issue.

“I wonder how that would go over with your current employer, knowing how closely aligned you’ve been with known felons.”

“Are you trying to blackmail me into staying married to your pathetic, tiny-dicked ass?”

“My dick is more than adequate. Maybe you’ve just been overly free with who you put out for and you’re too worked in.”

I cross the room in three quick strides, hand poised to slap that smug smile off his face, but he’s expecting the attack. He grabs my wrist and steps into me, folding my arm behind my back as he pushes me against the wall. His grip on my arm sends a shot of pain to my shoulder. “You’re hurting me.”

“You were going to hit me, again, I’m defending myself.”

“This is harassment.”

He scoffs and suddenly his expression is dark, that smug smile dropping. “You may want to reconsider your position on this annulment, Amalie. In addition to your history of physical violence, I don’t think it would go over well if people found out about your time in prison.”

I didn’t spend any time in a cell, but the eight hours I spent in an interrogation room inside a Mexican airport surrounded by men who wore sashes made of bullets was enough to scare me straight. It’s also one of the reasons I ended up with Armstrong.

He has the ability to spin this however he wants. Truth doesn’t necessarily trump the excitement of scandal. Regardless of how much he embellishes, this kind of thing would be highly damaging and hard to recover from. It could be on the same level as the events at our wedding, which were easy to hide with his family being in control of so many of the media-related sites. Even if it’s untrue, it could certainly taint my reputation and cost me a lot more than dignity. “Why are you doing this? What do you want from me?”

He’s so close. I can feel the warmth of his breath on my cheek. I hate that he’s touching me. “Finally, a reasonable question. I want you to be my wife, at least on paper. I can overlook your past and your promiscuity and you can overlook my extracurriculars and we can both be happy.”

“My promiscuity?” I struggle against his hold on my wrist. “Get off me.”

Armstrong releases me and steps back quickly, possibly to avoid my potential wrath. I’m spitting mad, but he has my attention, that’s for sure.

He adjusts his suit jacket, that dark smile still curving the corner of his mouth. “Do you really think I would marry someone I hadn’t done a background check on? I’m pragmatic, Amalie. Your family has money. My family has a well-established business that requires some support. Like I said before, when I came to Bora Bora, I can help elevate your social status and you can assist my family in keeping our empire afloat.”

Mimi said there were things going on with his family, now I have to wonder if this is what she meant. “Did you ever even like me? Does that even matter to you?”

“You’re lovely to look at and you complement me well when you’re behaving. I also quite enjoyed fucking you.” His smile is more of a leer. “I thought with time you’d settle into your role. I assumed you’d managed your vengeful side while you were in Bora Bora, getting played by my cousin. You do realize Lexington is just using you to get back at me.”

“Why would he do that?” This conversation makes it feel like my wine wants to come back up and revisit the world.

Armstrong’s smile is triumphant. “So you are letting my cousin fuck you.”

“That’s not what I said. I asked you why he would use me to get back at you. What would be the purpose of that?”

Armstrong’s expression is one of pompous satisfaction. “Because he doesn’t like it when I take the things he wants.”

“Am I somehow one of those things? Tell me, Armstrong, why did you ask me out in the first place?”

His brow furrows, the shift confusing him. “Don’t try to change the topic.”

“I’m not. It’s a question directly related to this conversation. Why did you introduce yourself and ask me to dance?”

He adjusts his tie. It’s a tell. A sign he’s uncomfortable, or being caught in some kind of lie. He does it a lot. “I told you why. I was saving you from making a mistake, one it appears you’ve decided to make anyway, despite my best efforts. I also thought you were attractive.”

“Right, of course, you were saving me from Lex. Can you explain what you meant when you said Lex doesn’t like it when you take the things he wants?”

“He has an inferiority complex when it comes to me.”

“Is that why you hate each other?” I can’t trust anything that Armstrong says, but I’m still interested in the answer.

“I don’t hate Lexington. I feel sorry for him, because he thinks he can best me, and he can’t.”

“And what is he trying to best you at?”

“You, of course.” He gives me a withering look. “You can stop lying, Amalie. I can smell his cologne all over you. I have to admit, he’s played this very smartly, although Ruby and Bancroft’s engagement party gave him an advantage.”

I have to cross my arms over my chest so I don’t dick punch him again. “This a game to you.”

“Not at all.”

“Are you sure? Because that’s exactly how it sounds. Like I was a game you were playing to win.”

“He walked away from you. That’s not my fault.”

“Are you referring to the night we met? If so I’ll assume this entire thing with me is game to you. Good job on winning, too bad I’m not some medal you can show off.”

He has the audacity to look affronted. “That’s not why I asked you to marry me, though.”

I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. “No. That was about money. Jesus Christ, Armstrong, this whole thing between us has been about you getting what someone else wanted, or whatever would best benefit your status. Is that the world you live in? Where people’s emotions are just an inconvenient side effect of the games you play with them?”

“I’m not the only one involved here. Have you questioned why Lexington was in your bridal suite on our wedding day?”

It feels like I’ve stepped in quicksand I can’t get free from. I can’t tell truth from lies anymore.

My lack of immediate response spurs him on. “Do you really think it’s a coincidence that his date seduced me and then he ends up alone with you? Come on, Amalie, you’re smarter than that.”

“Seduced? What a crock of shit.” My whole body feels suddenly numb.

“Regardless of your perception, Brittany came on to me, not the other way around.”

“And that’s supposed to make it okay?”

“I’m just explaining. People make mistakes.” It might be easier to hear if he sounded contrite rather than annoyed.

“You admitted to making the same mistake multiple times. With several different people,” I remind him.

“I may have exaggerated out of anger.”

“You are unbelievable.”

He sighs, as if my continued resentment is inconveniencing him. “You can be angry, but this isn’t all on me. I’m trying to get you to see that I’m not the only one culpable here. How the hell did Lex end up in Bora Bora with you on our honeymoon? That’s far too convenient to be coincidental.”