Authors: Ella Celestine
“Me too babe. Right there with ya.” Ken gripped her hips hard and drove up into her, hard enough to make her see explosions behind her eyes. Together they worked in tandem to bring each other pleasure, taking them both to that precarious edge. And then, they were falling.
Brandy’s body shook forcefully under the force of her pleasure, squeezing and convulsing while Ken continued to pound away. “Oh Ken, yes!”
“Brandy, fuck yeah!” They were both silent for several long moments, neither of them sure how to react to what had just happened. It wasn’t the sex in the car that was troubling, it was the power of the emotions that passed between them. The intensity of the pleasure. And then Ken heard it. Sniffles. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”
She shook her head and looked up at him with a watery smile. “No you didn’t hurt me, I’m great. Better than, actually.”
He frowned. “Then what’s up with the tears?”
Brandy shrugged. “No idea. I think that orgasm was just too intense, caused emotions to spill out of other areas.” She smiled, hoping that was a good enough explanation because she didn’t have another. “That’s never happened before.” She only had two lovers to compare, but Ken blew them away. Easily.
His smile was easy and charming. “Damn girl you know how to massage a man’s ego.”
She laughed until her body shook with amusement. “I don’t think it was your ego that had you moaning like that.”
Ken sat up shaking his head. “That mouth. As lovely as it is wicked.”
Brandy pushed up and kissed him, pouring all the feelings she couldn’t identify into that kiss. Telling him with her mouth what she couldn’t, wouldn’t, with her words. She was pretty sure her feelings had gone beyond simple lust, beyond something as basic as want. And straight into that word she had no business uttering while she was engaged to marry another man. An arrogant, despicable man, but still. She sighed again, frustration ruining her post-orgasm glow.
“What’s wrong?” He hoped she wasn’t regretting what they’d just done. He didn’t regret it, not at all. The only thing he regretted was that she wasn’t his.
“Nothing. Everything. I don’t know, Ken. I want to be with you. Only you and I don’t see how that can happen without being selfish.”
His smile was sad when he looked at her. “Sometimes you have to be selfish in this life. If you don’t look out for yourself, who else will?”
She thought that over the rest of the ride home. “I think you’re right, Ken. I have a lot to think about. See you in the morning.” She winked and blew him a kiss before leaving the privacy of the SUV.
“You only have one month until the wedding, Brandy. If you don’t do something to get out of it now, you will be stuck.” Marla Evans sat across from her daughter with a pinched expression on her face.
Brandy felt sick, and she wasn’t sure if it was from the idea that her relationship with Christian might actually become permanent or if it was the general sickness she’d felt the past couple weeks. “I know that Mom but…,” she trailed off because what could she say.
I don’t give a crap about all those people who’ll lose their jobs
or,
I’m just going to think about myself and what I want.
Neither of those was very endearing, despite how true they were. “Look, Mom, I’m not sure I can go through with this and Dad will have to be alright with that.”
Marla nodded. “I’m so angry with your father for putting you in this position. He deserves whatever happens.” She took a sip of the chilly white wine in front of her, savoring the taste before she looked at her daughter and then Ken. “There is the matter of the pregnancy clause to consider.”
Brandy’s stomach roiled again, and she felt it lurch. “I can’t have sex with that man.” She hadn’t told her mother yet about that night, but she thought maybe she should.
“Ma’am I’m sorry, but that is not an option,” Ken informed her with his usual stoic expression.
“Excuse me?” As she listened to Ken recount the night Brandy had to call him to get her passed out groom off her and all the details before that moment, Marla’s brown skin turned ashen. “No. Lord, no,” she covered her mouth, a horrified expression on her pretty face.
“Excuse me,” Brandy stood and raced to the bathroom to empty the limited contents of her stomach.
Great, I’m getting sick on top of all the other craziness in my life.
Shaking her head, she splashed cold water on her face and patted it dry before returning to the table. “Sorry about that. I’m coming down with something, I think. Now where were we?”
“Brandy,” Marla began in that placating tone she knew meant her mother was about to say something she wouldn’t like. “You need to consider the pregnancy clause. Maybe you don’t have to have sex with him, but make it appear that you have.”
Brandy thought that over and found the idea had merit. “But a man like Christian would insist on having the pregnancy confirmed before terminating the contract.” He was a ruthless billionaire and would never simply take her word for it.
Ken nodded as Marla’s words sank in. “Unless the circumstances surrounding the pregnancy were scandalous or controversial, maybe even illegal.”
Marla smiled and pointed a manicured finger at him. “Exactly right, young man.” She gave him a knowing wink and turned to her daughter. “Think about it.”
Brandy sighed, requesting a glass of sparkling water from a passing waiter. She had a feeling she would think of little else for the next few days.
She was late. The girl who could set a clock by her period was late.
Weeks
late in fact and she knew that could only mean one thing. That thing explained her upset stomach and exhaustion over the past two weeks. She hadn’t summoned the nerves yet to buy a home pregnancy kit or go see a doctor, preferring to live in denial for just a little longer.
How in the hell am I going to keep this a secret?
She knew she had to, at least for a little while if she had hopes of breaking free of Christian without harming Sweeney Global employees. Last night she’d sat on the balcony off her living room for hours, staring at the moon and the stars, wishing she was someplace else with Ken by her side.
Then there was Ken.
The father of her child. Her bodyguard and Christian’s boss. The man she loved. Yep, she’d decided sometime between studying the heart and the moon disappearing in deference to the sun, that she loved Ken. Only she couldn’t tell him that until she told him about the baby, or she’d appear manipulative. “Hell and damn,” she muttered as she slid on her sneakers and went downstairs to gather her books for class.
“Brandy, you’ve been avoiding me.” Christian stood blocking her exit from her study. She could acknowledge how handsome he looked in his expensive suit and slick hairstyle, but he was still arrogant. And mean.
“Your point?” Her bag was packed, and she was desperate to be away from this man.
“My point,” his charming smile quickly morphed into a scowl, “is that the wedding is supposed to take place in three weeks, and you’ve not planned anything.”
That’s because I have no plans to marry you, you disgusting bastard.
She shrugged. “What’s to plan? We’ll go to City Hall and have a small lunch or dinner with family.” She didn’t want a big wedding—if there was a wedding—with a man she didn’t like, never mind didn’t love.
“That is not an acceptable wedding for a man of my status.” He crossed his arms and attempted to intimidate her again, but Brandy wasn’t afraid.
She shrugged. “Then you plan it because it’s just fine for me. And don’t expect a wedding night!” She brushed past him, shoulder checking him as she flew by him and out the door. Hand to her mouth, when Brandy was safely outside she emptied her stomach in the bushes. The last thing she needed was for Christian to figure out something was wrong before she figured out how to get away from him.
“Hey, are you alright?”
She looked up into Ken’s concerned brown eyes and shook her head. “Can we just get out of here please?”
Ken frowned and helped her stand, grabbing her bag and helping her into the car. “You don’t have class for quite some time.”
“I know, but I have a stop to make on campus.” She needed to get in to see a doctor before the day is over.
“Is everything okay? You seem a little green,” he gave her a soft smile when the car stopped at a red light.
Ken was a good man, and he deserved the truth. “Ken I don’t deserve you, and you don’t deserve to be saddled with someone like me.”
He frowned. “I don’t get it, what are you talking about?”
She burst into tears, sobbing while Ken looked around frantically for a place to stop. “No! Please, don’t stop. It’s just I’m…awful. I’m engaged to one man, in love with another and sleeping with him. To make matters even more distasteful, I’m pregnant. Well, I’m pretty sure I am, but that’s why I need to stop at the campus clinic.” She sighed after relieving herself of the burdens she carried.
Ken was stunned at her words. “You’re pregnant?” She nodded, but his eyes were on the road ahead. He couldn’t believe it. He was going to be a father.
Hopefully.
“Are you really going to go through with this marriage when you’re carrying my child?”
Brandy sagged in relief, realizing she wondered if he’d believe her. “Of course not, but Ken I need to find a way out that will help those people.”
He sighed and pulled into the first vacant parking spot he found. “I understand Brandy, I do. But if you can’t help them, then what?”
She only had three weeks. That was cutting it incredibly close. “Then I hide it from Christian until I have an answer.”
Ken nodded because he couldn’t do anything else. Right now it was up to Brandy. “Okay,” he told her and watched her slide from the truck and walk away with the weight of the world on her shoulders.
~
Several days after their last confrontation in the study and Christian was still fuming. She wanted to get married at City Hall like they were two runaway teenagers. He scoffed, “Not fucking likely.” So he’d called the best wedding planner in the city, gave her a ridiculously high budget and told her traditional sophisticated. The date was just twenty days away, the ninetieth day of the contract.
After all this time they weren’t any closer to learning anything about each other. After his night with Candy, things had taken a swift turn from bad to worse. He could admit—to himself—that he’d made a gigantic error in breaking her door down and attempting to…he couldn’t even think the words. Since then she’d kept her distance from him. Brandy was hardly ever at home, and when she was, she was either in the study buried behind books or in her room.
Christian had just a few weeks to turn things around, but first, he needed to calm down. Which was why he’d lined up another date. Once the edge was off, he’d talk to her calmly, and they would figure it out. Together.
Hours later he stumbled home with the buxom redhead who called herself Jenna. She was tall, stacked and a dirty, dirty girl. “Tell me, Jenna, how do you like to be fucked?”
She giggled when they both tripped and nearly fell to the ground, and he pulled her tight to save her. “Good and hard. A little on the rough side. Will you pull my hair, Christian?”
He gave it a little tug that made her gasp and ran his tongue along her neck. Christian laughed, and he hoped Brandy was around to hear them. “Come on you naughty girl.” They went into the kitchen, where—surprise, surprise—Brandy stood at the stove stirring. “Hello, Brandy.”
The little minx didn’t even turn at his greeting. “Christian,” she said tersely, never turning around.
“Don’t you want to meet Jenna?” He was being a dick, but he was too drunk to care.
Brandy turned with a friendly smile. “Nice to meet you, Jenna. There’s a bottle of red breathing on the counter if you’d like a glass.”
Looking nervously at Christian and Brandy, Jenna nodded and grabbed an empty glass. “This is weird, are you two a couple?”
“It’s only a marriage of convenience Jenna, so don’t worry about it,” Brandy answered kindly. “You’re welcome to him without any interference from me.”
“Rich people are weird,” she said and gulped a glass of five hundred dollar wine.
“Amen sister,” Brandy responded and turned her attention back to the stove, waiting for them to leave he suspected.
Frustrated, he grabbed Jenna and a bottle of wine before stomping out of the kitchen. Christian had his fun with the curvaceous prostitute and passed out.
After escorting Jenna from the property and into a waiting limo, Ken called Brandy to meet him down in the garden. “I have the perfect idea,” he told her the moment she stepped out of the house. “Remember what happened after the last hooker he brought home?”
She nodded and rolled her eyes. “I’m hardly going to forget it, Ken.”
“Right. Well, I want you to cook dinner tonight for Christian. Be the perfect little hostess and I’ll take care of the rest.”
Brandy couldn’t believe she was going to go through with this hare-brained scheme, but Ken thought it would work, and she trusted him. Her job tonight was to be kind to Christian—somehow—and put him in a place where he might make a move. The thought disgusted her, almost as much as the morning sickness that was making her life difficult. And cooking, while therapeutic, was also an exercise in torture since nearly every scent kick started her nausea.
“Cooking again, I see,” Christian said from the doorway, leaning against the door with a wary stare. “Is there enough for me?”
“Sure,” she answered without turning around. She and Ken had fought about how friendly she should be. He thought she should make it convincing while Brandy believed he would see right through an attempt so obvious. “It’s not like I can eat it all anyway.”
“So gracious you are, Brandy. You’ll need to improve your hostess skills when you entertain my colleagues.”
She rolled her eyes, realizing just how difficult this would be for her. The man was insufferable. “You’ll probably hire a professional since I’ll be living at the hospital for the next five years or so.” Like she would be relegated to some society wife.
Hardly.
Christian groaned, hating the reminder that she would not be a dedicated wife. “We’ll see about that.”
“Planning to renege on the agreement already? Besides what colleagues do you have, from what I understand you want to sell the company so you don’t have to work.”
He smiled a predatory smile that would have others shaking in their boots. “I may dabble in other businesses, who knows,” his shrug was careless, but Brandy could see she’d struck a nerve.
“Hmph,” she said while chopping vegetables for salad.
Okay, so far so good.
If she could maintain a flirty but slightly antagonistic air throughout the night, the plan would go perfectly. She’d dressed the part in a flimsy crepe dress that showed off her legs, arms and just a hint of cleavage. His deep blue eyes had already darkened at the sight of her. With a few drinks, he would be too tempted to back down.
Thirty minutes later, Christian returned to the kitchen dressed in a plain sky blue t-shirt and jeans with no shoes. Under any other circumstances, she would find him attractive and charming. Under current circumstances, he was nothing more than a gorgeous bastard. “Damn Brandy, that smells good. I knew you’d make a good wife.”
She smiled as she set the steak and salad on the table. “It will be years before you get a home cooked meal like this from me. Medical school and my residency will take up most of my time. And if I’m lucky enough to get a prestigious fellowship somewhere, even longer.” The mashed potatoes and steamed vegetables came to the table next and Christian groaned at the aromas.
“Well, then I’ll have something to look forward to. Unless of course, I knock you up before then.” He winked, and she tried hard to stifle the shudder that came automatically.
“That’s not likely to happen, Christian and we both know it.” She leaned back in her chair and smiled. “But I’m sure you’ll knock someone up during that time, given your ah, predilections.”
He barked out a laugh and pointed at her. “You’re a funny girl, Brandy.” Too bad he hadn’t just asked her out like she said. She might be smiling back at him now, but it didn’t reach her eyes the way it would if she genuinely liked him.
“Oh!” she stood and went to the cabinet just as she and Ken had planned, to retrieve an expensive bottle of scotch she purchased for him this afternoon. “I found this at the liquor store today, and the guy said it goes great with steak. I don’t drink the stuff but…,” she trailed off with a shy shrug.
One side of his mouth curved upward in a smug smile. “Careful there Brandy, I might start to think you like me.”
This time, her laugh was genuine. “I wouldn’t go that far, Christian. But we need to at least not hate each other. Or try to assault one another,” she glared at him, amazed at the flush that covered his skin.
“Fair enough and dammit I said I was sorry.”
Brandy pretended to sip her wine, bringing the glass to her lips for a three count and setting it down. “And you sounded just as sincere then as you do now.” Prodding him wasn’t the smartest thing, but it had the desired effect of making him drink.
Christian rolled his eyes and grunted, pouring more of the expensive booze into his glass and guzzling it down. Glass after glass he drank, thoughts warring angrily in his head. “Why am I even bothering,” he slurred when she cleared the dinner plates and brought a layered chocolate cake to the table. “You’re never going to forgive or forget that, are you?”
“If I were your sister or daughter, would you forget?” She sliced the cake and place a piece before him. “I’m trying here Christian, but I can’t trust you after that.”
He knocked back two more glasses, half now gone and he seemed oblivious. “You don’t seem to be trying very hard.”
Brandy scoffed. “You sound like a petulant child. Of course, I’m not trying hard. You forced me here and then you attempted to force yourself on me, geez why am I not falling at your feet?” Shaking her head she stood, seeing he was getting angrier by the second. “Oh and let’s not forget the prostitutes. Who knows what diseases you carry and you think I’m ever going to climb in bed with you?” She scoffed. “Get real. I’m going through with this damn marriage so just shut up about it.” Slamming her fork down, she raced from the kitchen, slowing down until she heard him follow.
Bottle in his hand, Christian stood and followed her. “Did you just tell me to shut up?”
She turned at the top of the stairs. “I don’t see anyone else talking like a lunatic. No on else in here tried to
rape
a woman and then feigns shock that she doesn’t want to be around him!”
Taking a long pull from the bottle, Christian marched up the stairs and knocked on her door. “Not this time, Brandy. Open up!” He pounded and pounded on the door, his rage simmering at her disobedience.
Brandy stood at the far end of the room, wincing each time his fists slammed against the door. Ken had told her to turn the lock enough that the door wouldn’t open so that the smallest amount of force would break the door open. “Go away Christian, you’re drunk.”
“I don’t give a shit. Open this damn door right now!” He pounded on the door until finally the frame gave and it swung open. “Now, what did you say?”
She watched the rich buffoon sway unsteadily from the alcohol. “You heard every damn word. Or what, are you going to be a big man and try it again?” Shaking her head in disgust, Brandy mumbled under her breath and attempted to get past his big body.
“I don’t have to try Brandy. You hate me, but you want me.” He grabbed her shoulders and pushed her on the bed, crawling on top of her with a smug smile.
“You’re half right. I do hate you. So much.” She struggled under him, the smell of alcohol on his breath drawing forth her nausea.
“Don’t struggle and don’t pretend you don’t want this,” he slurred his words, and his eyelids grew heavy as he leaned in for a kiss. And thankfully missed.
Here we go again,
she thought when he started snoring in her ear.
~
“Damn this guy is heavier than he looks,” Ken groaned while he pulled Christian off Brandy and dragged him to his own bedroom.
“He wasn’t lying on top of you for the past ten minutes.” He was heavy and solidly built, making it ten long minutes.
“Well, you were ahead of schedule, sweetheart.” He flashed her a smile and dropped the man on the bed while he ripped Christian’s shirt open, leaving buttons scattered around the room. Ken opened his pants and yanked them down just enough to sell the lie they were planning.
“He drank way more than I thought he would when we started to argue.” She grabbed the shoulder of her dress and yanked hard until the sound of fabric tearing rent the air. Sliding her lace panties down her legs, she lifted them and ripped at the side seam, tossing them carelessly.
Next, they needed to tear up Christian’s room for the struggle. Ken overturned a nightstand while Brandy pulled a lamp from the wall and smashed it against the ground. The room looked like the scene of a struggle. “It looks good,” Ken commented.
“Now comes the dirty work. Who’s going to make sure he
comes
?” They’d talked briefly about it, but nothing had been settled. “He has to ejaculate if this is going to sell,” she whispered. The shock in his brown eyes would have been comical if not for the fact it needed to be done. “Ugh fine, I’ll do it. You’ll do midnight feedings the first month.”
Ken smiled. “Deal.”
Brandy reluctantly took Christian in hand. He was semi-hard so it took almost no time to get him completely erect. She pumped hard and fast, while he groaned in his sleep, obviously enjoying her handiwork. Minutes later a long groan erupted along with him. “There we go.” She smeared it on the dress she wore and raced to the bathroom. Everything about this was sickening to her. “I need a shower.”
Ken nodded and gave her a quick kiss and turned to leave.
“Wait! What about the security team?”
Ken smiled. “He gave the home crew the night off so he could get lucky with his bride to be. The crew close to the house has been taken care of.”
Brandy nodded and left to take a steaming hot shower. She might burn in hell for this, but at least she wouldn’t spend her living years with Christian Sweeney.
~
Christian woke up with a familiar feeling of an oncoming hangover. His throat was dry, and his eyes were scratchy, and his head felt like a hundred elves played percussion inside his brain. He sat up and reached for the water he kept on the nightstand, only to find an overturned bottle of scotch. The scotch Brandy had bought just for him, he smiled, but it quickly died as he took in the sight of his room.
A table near the door was overturned as was the nightstand on the other side of the bed. A look at his own person showed his shirt was ripped, and missing buttons and his pants were pulled down just enough to leave him exposed. “What in the hell?” Pushing off the bed he stood, swayed slightly, and pulled open his door. “What the hell are you doing outside my door?”
Ken stood, pulling every inch of his six-two frame up to stare down at Christian. “Are you serious? You
attacked
Brandy last night!” He held up his hands to show red knuckles. “I knocked for almost an hour before the screaming stopped and she raced from the room in tears. With her clothes torn.” He glared at the rich asshole.
“Where is she?”
He rolled his eyes. “She moved to a room on the other side of the house since you broke down yet another door.” Ken followed Christian down the east wing staircase and up the west wing staircase, stopping a few feet shy of the room Brandy had huddled herself in only minutes ago.
“Brandy open the door!” He knocked loud and hard.
“No! You stay the hell away from me Christian Sweeney or I promise you’ll regret it!”
Christian paled at the terrified sound of her voice. He could hear the tears she tried to hold back, and he felt like a million types of shit. “We need to talk. Soon.”
“Go to hell!” She shouted, and it was punctuated by a loud thud of something slamming against the door.
Christian glared at Ken. “Keep this incident in the house if you value your job.”
Ken nodded and walked away with a small smile.
Soon, Brandy. Soon.