HisMarriageBargain (16 page)

Jake gave Sammi a once-over, his face twisting into a
cocktail of hatred. “Why the fuck would you marry her when she gives it away
for free? You want her, take her. I tapped that ass. Why do I want to keep it?”

Autumn closed her ears to his words, refusing to let them
batter her again. “This is crazy, Sammi, I’m calling the cops.” No sooner had
Autumn reached for her phone than the room devolved into flying objects and
limbs. She screamed as a wall of hard human flesh crashed into her.

Jamar yanked her backward into the living room as Jake and
Sammi grappled in the hallway.

Jake had Sammi up against the doorjamb, hands twisted in his
shirt. Sammi had Jake by the front of his undershirt, a large rip in the
fabric.

“No, stop,” Autumn yelled, twisting in Jamar’s impossibly
strong hold. She couldn’t let Jake hurt Sammi.

Her husband hauled back with his other hand and landed a
solid punch to Jake’s jaw. The taller man stumbled into the living room. Sammi
stalked after him, lips tightly compressed and gaze narrowed. Jake swung around
with his fists at the ready, but Sammi stepped out of range as though he were a
graceful dancer.

Sammi held up his hands. “I’ll only warn you once—”

Jake lunged and connected with Sammi’s cheek.

Autumn screamed as her husband took a step back.

Sammi planted a foot in Jake’s chest and the blond went
flying backward. Sammi followed him, delivering a wicked double punch to the
man’s face. Sammi straightened, breathing heavier.

Autumn gaped at her husband.

Holy fucking shit, he can kick ass. Who is this man?

“Time for you to go.” Jamar lumbered forward and hefted Jake
to his feet. Jamar had at least a hundred pounds and a few inches on the other
man. He easily escorted Jake out of the apartment, leaving Sammi and her alone.

For a moment she stared at him, unsure of what to say or
even do. Then she noticed the blood dotting his collar.

“You’re bleeding.” Autumn grabbed a paper towel from the
kitchen and rushed back to Sammi.

He wiped his nose and his hand came away bloodied. He examined
his fingers as if he’d never seen his own blood before.

“Here.”

He accepted the paper towel and held it to his nose.

“Oh my god, Sammi, I am so sorry. I had no idea Jake still
had a key. I haven’t seen him in a year.” She wrung her hands together.

“What do you have to be sorry for?” His face scrunched up.

“He’s gone, Autumn.” Jamar entered the apartment again,
closing the door behind him. “Got your key back too.”

“Thank you, Jamar.” Autumn crossed to the other man and
stood on tiptoe to give him a hug.

“Where’ve you been?” Jamar squeezed her back.

“I got married. Jamar, meet my husband, Sammi. Sammi, this
is Jamar.”

“Nice to meet you, Sammi. I’m Jamar.” Jamar offered his
hand, mouth twisted in a grotesque expression Autumn interpreted as his toothy
smile. Down syndrome had twisted Jamar’s features and his body, but the heart
was kind and three times as large.

“Pleasure’s all mine.” Sammi offered his left hand since his
right was currently employed with stopping the nosebleed. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I wanted to hit him too, but Autumn told me I
couldn’t.”

Autumn sputtered and laughed, too nervous to do anything
else.

“She’s a good girl like that. I’m afraid I’m not quite so
good. Excuse me.” Sammi strode into the kitchen and grabbed a new napkin.

Autumn didn’t know who to go to first. She wanted to help
Sammi, but he’d want an explanation she didn’t want to give in front of Jamar.

“Thank you for taking out the trash, Jamar. I only thought I
was running by before work, not doing spring cleaning.” She chuckled even
though the joke wasn’t funny.

“It’s okay, I know you’re in a hurry.” Jamar thumbed behind
him. “I’ll clean up the kitchen for you.”

“Are you sure?” God, that would be a relief. She could get
Sammi out and away from here.

“Anything for my boo.”

She handed the key back to Jamar. “Thanks. I’ll be back in a
day or two, I’m sure.”

Autumn stepped into the kitchen, grabbed a plastic bag and
shoved the books into it. Dealing with Jake, ever again, was not on her list of
things to do. She glanced at Sammi, who seemed to have stopped bleeding, and
her stomach knotted even tighter.

“How’s the nose?” she asked.

“It’s stopped bleeding. How’s it look?” His gaze locked with
hers and she sucked in a breath.

“Good. You missed some here.” She took the napkin and daubed
at his cheek. “There. Ready to go?”

“Hey, I’d kind of like—”

“I know, but in the car? Please?”

Sammi’s brows drew down into a line. “Fine.”

“Thank you.” She breathed a sigh of relief and turned toward
the silent shadow behind her. “You sure you don’t mind cleaning this up?”

“Not at all, boo.”

“We’ll have to have a pizza date sometime.”

“I’d like that. Bye, Autumn.”

Autumn ducked out of the apartment, glancing both ways for
any sign of Jake, but finding nothing. Sammi followed her, closing the door
behind him and spreading his hands as if to ask,
Now?

She leaned against the wall and blew out a breath. “Jake
stuff upsets Jamar.”

“Oh.” Sammi’s face relaxed. “And Jamar is?”

“My neighbor.” She thumbed at the apartment across the
breezeway. “Sammi, I am so sorry. Really, I’m so, so sorry.”

Sammi’s face creased again, lines marring his brow and a
frown where only a smile should be. “I’m not sure what you’re apologizing
about. That asshole is the one who should be begging you to accept his
apology.”

“But he hit you, and all because of me.” Anxiety twisted her
throat around until it was hard to breathe.

“I don’t care that he hit me, and I’m glad I hit his punk
face. No one will ever talk about my wife like that.” Sammi stepped into her
space and she retreated until she hit the brick wall. He caged her, a hand at
either shoulder. “You’re amazing, and I will not stand for some idiot who
didn’t recognize the wonderful woman you are to trash you. It’s not happening.”

The vise grip on her windpipe eased and she sucked in a deep
breath. Her whole body felt a little tingly and her heart was doing dangerous,
fluttering things.

Holy crap, her husband just beat up someone because of her.

“I’m still sorry it happened,” she said.

“Why? It’s not like you called and told him we were dropping
by, did you?”

“No.”

“Good. Get everything you need?”

“Yeah.”

Sammi leaned in, slanting his mouth over hers, kissing her
deep, thrusting his tongue into her mouth and pulling her against him. She was
breathless by the time he stepped back, giving her space.

“Remember how you wanted to do sex in a car?” Something
about the caveman act had her motor revved and ready to go.

“Fuck me, I wish there was time.” He rested his forehead
against hers, a cheeky smile curling his lips. “I have a meeting and now I need
to go home and change.”

She twined her arm around his neck. “And you can’t
reschedule?”

“Client flew in from St. Louis.”

“I hate how responsible you are right now.”

“You and me both, Sunshine.” He squeezed her ass and buzzed
her lips with a quick kiss. “Come on.”

Sammi led her down to the SUV and, after a long kiss, closed
the door not a moment too soon.

* * * * *

Autumn slid out of the SUV, flicking her skirt up enough to
show her husband a little cheek, just a glimpse of what he was going to miss
thanks to a meeting.

Sammi groaned from the driver’s-side seat.

She flashed him a smile over her shoulder and hefted her bag
higher. As much as she hated this whole responsible streak, she was at work
with five minutes to spare before opening.

“I’m getting a piece of that tonight,” Sammi called after
her.

“Just remember, you’re the one that made you wait that
long.” She closed the door with a smile and slipped in the back entrance of So
Inked.

Autumn heard Kellie and a male voice that sounded like her
boyfriend Quin’s talking in the office. Autumn passed them without a word and
dropped her bags on the ground at her station. Mary was flipping through a
notebook and Carly was in the process of unlocking the front door.

There was something about watching her husband wipe the
floor with Jake that had amped her up. She fired off an appropriately naughty
text to him and wondered if propositioning him for car sex during lunch was going
too far.

“Morning, Autumn,” Carly called over her shoulder.

“Hey.” Autumn shook her head and pulled herself back into
reality. She watched Carly out of the corner of her eye. They were all
protective over Carly. She’d become something like a little sister to each of them,
and just like family they could be smothering. At this stage in Carly’s
recovery she needed to learn independence.

Carly didn’t need a hand opening the shop. She’d been doing
it for months since Mary’s son Sam quit. Autumn missed the moody teenager, but
Carly fit in better with them.

Autumn sank into her chair and glanced at her phone. The
text icon made her smile, but Sammi’s text had her nipples tingling.

Cocktails and cock? I’m in. All the way. Is that how you
like it?

You know it.

“Did you see the new ride?” Carly rolled to a stop at the
edge of Autumn’s station, a wide grin on her face.

Autumn glanced up from her phone, tilting it up to hide the X-rated
texts. “I totally did. Loving this whole
X-Men
Roguething with
the white streak in the front.” Autumn sat in her chair and leaned forward, propping
her elbows on her knees. “I was thinking we could take it for a spin during
lunch. Maybe swing by Empress of China?”

“Thanks.” Carly glanced away, her grin turning bashful.
“Maybe. I have been wanting some egg rolls.”

“Mm, yeah. Egg rolls.” Autumn winked at the younger woman.

“Oh my god, how do you make everything sexual?” Carly
flipped up the hood on her hoodie and covered her face with her hands.

“Who said anything about sex? I just thought biting into a
nice big, juicy egg roll sounded like a great idea.” Autumn chuckled and
grabbed the plastic bag with her books.

“Okay, but it’ll have to be either an early or late lunch.”
Carly pushed her chair forward and back in a seemingly subconscious habit she’d
developed over the last few months.

“Early. Just thinking about egg rolls has me hungry.”

“You going to Empress?” Kellie stopped and leaned against
the wall, her gaze conspicuously on Carly. Seemed Autumn hadn’t yet been
forgiven.

“Um, yeah. We were thinking about it,” Carly replied.

“Cool. Could you drop off my RSVP card with Jacob? I forgot
to mail it in and the wedding is this weekend.” Kellie rolled her eyes as the
phone in the office rang. “I’ll get you the card.” She abandoned them for the
phone.

Autumn glanced at Carly, whose face had gone pale and stony.
Despite Kellie’s warnings, Carly had fallen for Jacob, and Autumn couldn’t
blame her. But he was marrying the woman of his family’s dreams that weekend.

“Maybe we should get a burger instead?” Autumn suggested.

Carly shrugged and pivoted on one wheel without saying
anything.

Love was one tough bitch.

Eyebrow Piercing—A hoop, straight or curved barbell that
goes under the line of the eyebrow.

Tamara lifted the receiver to her face, annoyed at the
interruption, but the housekeeper had said it was urgent. “Hello?”

“Mrs. Zimmerman, hi. It’s Christine.”

Tamara paused. She knew the girl’s mother from the temple.
Good family, solid lineage and devout. But why on earth was Sammi’s secretary
calling her?

“Yes?” Tamara said when Christine did not speak.

“I know this is unusual, but, well, I saw something and I
thought you should know.”

Samuel’s secrets came to mind. What did she know?

“Go on,” Tamara said.

“There were some pictures emailed to Sammi—Samuel—today,
and, well, I’m not sure if you know—”

“That my son married a Whore of Babylon?” She was very aware
of the tarnishing mark on their reputation.

“Yes.”

“And what are these photographs of?”

Christine paused. “Their wedding.”

Tamara’s vision hazed red. “Bring them to me.”

“Yes ma’am.”

* * * * *

Sammi’s phone dinged and his dick pulsed.

This is getting out of control.

He couldn’t deny the surge of anticipation that danced along
his nerves as he reached for his phone instead of reading the next round of
emails. Whatever they had to say wouldn’t be anywhere near as interesting.

Are you horny yet?

Sammi glanced at the clock and groaned. It was only a few
minutes past noon and already he wanted to be home. Inside his wife. There was
no way he was getting away from work until after six, and Autumn worked until
ten.

Not willingly. Ten hours until you can do something about
that.

He clicked Send and turned back to his computer. What had
begun earlier that morning with her asking how he was doing had devolved over
the last few hours to creatively snapped pictures of her hip crossed with a
thin strap, graphic texts of what she wanted to do to him and coy insinuations
about what she wanted.

Basically, he was a lucky man.

The phone vibrated and he had it in his hand before the tone
ended.

More than willing to help you out. What do you prefer?
Hands, mouth or pussy?

“Shit,” he muttered, adjusting the crotch of his trousers.

I have to choose?

The door to his office swung open. He sat up abruptly so the
desk covered his growing erection and dropped the phone into his lap.

“Samuel, we have to talk about this marriage business. You
simply could not have gotten a legal marriage. What did this hussy rope you
into?” His mother breezed in and stopped at the edge of his desk, staring down
her nose at him. Despite her polished exterior, every silver hair in place, her
lavender suit perfectly pressed, there was a wildness in her gaze that worried
him.

“Mom, calm down.” He glanced over her shoulder at his
secretary Christine standing in the doorway, perfectly serene. And probably the
source of this outburst. The wedding pictures had landed in his inbox earlier
and she had access to his main account. “Close the door, will you?”

Christine closed the door slowly. Sammi would have to watch
her.

“Mom, please sit down. Have you had lunch yet? I was going
to order something from the deli and have it delivered.”

“Don’t distract me, Samuel. We must talk about this wedding
nonsense.” She sat in one of the guest chairs and placed her purse in the
other.

“Okay, what would you like to talk about?” His phone dinged
with another message and he shifted in his seat.

“You cannot be married.” She leaned forward in her chair,
voice rising. “Where was the rabbi? Where was I?”

This was a mess. He’d wanted to avoid exactly this at all
costs. Inwardly he groaned and tried to figure out how to explain to his
conservative mother he wasn’t going to play by her rules.

Sammi folded his hands atop the desk. “The ceremony was performed
by a rabbi. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before, but we eloped. We didn’t tell
anyone.”

“Samuel, people do not do these things.”

“Not everyone, Mom, just me.” He pulled the deli menu from
his drawer. “Do you want anything?”

“Water for my tea.” She patted her cheeks.

“Anything else?”

“No. How can you eat at a time like this?”

He could only assume that she meant his marital status and
not the hour.

Sammi picked up the phone and instructed his secretary to
order for both of them.

“I’m guessing Christine called you this morning?” He didn’t
have time to drag this visit out. Not with as much time as he’d piddled away
sexting his wife.

“Yes, she said this woman looks like a—a—a—”

“A tattoo artist?” He was going to have to rip this Band-Aid
off.

“What?” Her eyes grew round.

“Let me show you some pictures from the wedding, Mom.” Sammi
pulled up the files and turned his monitor so she could see the progression of
the ceremony.

He flipped through the images, which showed the afternoon
spent getting ready, setting up, each of them dressing, the ceremony and a
collection of posed and candid pictures the photographers had snapped all evening.
He’d gone through them a few times since receiving them, but he was again
transported back into those magical moments. He could almost hear the ocean,
smell the flowers and remember the rush of awe, wonder and adoration that had
gone through him those first few seconds he’d seen Autumn.

The camera loved Autumn. Her smile, the dimples—she was
radiant and unique.

“Samuel, this woman cannot be your wife. Look what she did
to herself.” His mother’s eyes were large, disgust twisting her face into an
ugly mask.

How could they look at the same person and see such
different things?

Had his mother always been so judgmental of other people?

“Yes, she has a lot of tattoos, Mom. She’s a tattoo artist.
It’s her job to tattoo people. She’s a lovely person.” He turned the monitor
back around with more force than necessary. Anyone else he’d have told to go
fuck themselves, but he couldn’t tell his mother that. She’d been through
enough.

She shook her head. “No, this cannot be so, Son. We will
talk to the rabbi, get it annulled.”

The phone dinged with yet another text message taunting him.

“I am not getting an annulment. Or a divorce,” he snapped.
His mother gasped.
Shit, what am I doing?
“Mom, just meet her, please?”

She pulled a small, worn wooden box from her purse and he
could have groaned.

“Mom, enough with the tea. I’ll bring Autumn by Sunday and
we can all get to know each other. We’re going to Aaron and Michael’s Shabbat
tomorrow night.”

This was a disaster in the making, but the train had already
left the station.

* * * * *

Sammi took Autumn’s hand in his and closed the car door. She
twitched the skirt of her dress. They’d spent almost an hour going through her
clothes until she found something she was comfortable in and that he thought
would work for Shabbat dinner. Together they’d settled on the pink dress he’d
had her try on at her apartment. Realistically he should have just given her
his credit card and told her to go buy something, but clothing had been the
last thing on his mind. He was a lot more interested in getting her out of the
clothes.

“These people—”

“They’re not like us, I know. You’ve warned me about a
thousand times that they’re going to have pitchforks and fire ready for me.”
She fidgeted with her necklace and the hem of her dress.

“They’re not quite that bad. You look fine.” Sammi pulled
her arm and together they walked up the path to the front door of a large,
bordering on mini-mansion brick home.

“Fine is just fine. I was hoping for something better than
that.” Autumn’s voice was strained, stressed. At first she’d approached tonight
with her usual cheerfulness, but she seemed to have picked up on his unease.

Sammi rang the doorbell and peeked through the glass. It
appeared there was a full house tonight. The door swung inward, held by a young
man in dark-gray slacks and a vivid blue button-down shirt.

“Sammi,” Aaron spoke to him, but his gaze was all over
Autumn.

“Hi, Aaron.” Sammi kept his grip on Autumn’s hand while he
gave Aaron a one-armed hug. “Autumn, this is Aaron. Aaron, this is my wife, Autumn.”

Aaron’s well-manicured brows lifted only slightly. “Your
wife? What a lucky man. Please, come in.” His smarmy smile made Sammi want to
punch him, but Aaron had always been a bit of a prick.

“Thanks for having us,” Autumn said with a smile and even a
glimpse of dimple. She’d worn her chunky glasses, which made him think naughty
librarian. But then everything about Autumn turned him on.

Aaron gestured toward the party space. “Come in and meet
everyone. We just lit the candles. Would you care for some wine?”

Acquaintances and social friends called out greetings as
they passed, following their host toward the kitchen and entertaining area.
Sammi had partied with a number of those present, but none of them were true
friends. He’d have a drink with them, go to temple, but by and large he
couldn’t trust them.

Why was he here again?

Oh right. Avoiding his mother.

Brothers Aaron and Michael lived alone, which was reflected
by the home. Modern lines, minimalistic furniture that was more flashy than
useful. It wasn’t as if the brothers did much besides work and party. Unlike
Sammi’s family, theirs had escaped Iran with a considerable sum of money just
before the war.

“Why do I get the feeling everyone knew we were coming?”
Autumn whispered through clenched teeth, her smile fully in place.

Christine.

“I don’t know,” he replied. “I have a bad feeling about
this.”

“Not that bad, remember?” she quipped.

As they rounded the corner into the open space that looked
more like a swanky club than a kitchen and living room, Sammi glimpsed a
familiar profile.

“Shit,” he muttered.

“What?”

“My secretary is here.” There wasn’t technically anything
wrong with Christine telling people he was attending tonight with his wife, but
he doubted anything she had to say would be complimentary to Autumn. Maybe it
was time to allocate her resources somewhere elsewhere.

“Okay,” Autumn replied slowly.

Aaron circled the bar and tapped his brother on the
shoulder. Michael turned, glancing from Sammi to Autumn.

“My brother Michael. Michael, this is Sammi’s wife Autumn.”
Aaron’s mouth curled up in a suspicious smile aimed at Michael.

Michael wiped his hands on a towel and reached across the
bar to shake both Sammi’s and Autumn’s hands. “Glad you could make it tonight.
It’s been a while, Sammi.”

“Yeah, sorry about that, man. Been busy lately.” Even if he
hadn’t been busy, Sammi had lost interest in this particular grouping of people
a long time ago. The Persian culture in America and the wealthy young adults
from the temple were out of touch with reality, too concerned with their bank
accounts or checking off all their cultural rules.

“That’s our man Sammi. Making it rain.” Aaron grinned and
fist bumped Sammi.

Of the two brothers, Michael was the easier to stomach. He
was guilty of stirring the pot on occasion, but not to the degree of Aaron.

“Would you like some wine?” Michael asked Autumn.

“Do you have beer instead?” Autumn asked.

Michael glanced at Sammi, showing more consideration than
he’d credited the other man.

“Oh no, what he’s asking is if you would like wine.” Aaron
placed his hand on the counter and turned his gaze on Autumn. His beady little
eyes regarded her more as a thing for his amusement than a person.

“Aaron’s not explaining that the next event of the evening
includes wine,” Sammi interjected, glaring at their host. It took Sammi’s sheer
will not to deck the guy in his irritating face.

“Sure, I’d love a glass then.” Autumn’s smile was too big,
too bright.

“Sammi!” The female voice could cut glass, and sliced
through the din of music and chatter easily.

Not this. Not here. Not now.

He groaned and turned to face his ex-girlfriend.

Dalya must have just had a fresh round of Botox, because her
face didn’t move an inch. In fact, her smile was more like a grimace.

“Hello, Dalya.” He stuck his hand out to keep her at arm’s
length.

“Oh stop it. That’s not how you greet your friends. How have
you been?” Dalya wrapped an arm around his neck and pulled him down, shoving
his face in her hair.

“Busy.” He extracted himself from her grasp as soon as was
polite and turned to Autumn, who was surveying his situation with an amused
smile. “Dalya, let me introduce you to my wife, Autumn.”

Dalya froze for a moment. She slowly turned to stare at
Autumn. “You married that?”

Sammi stepped between the women. Not because he thought
Autumn needed protecting. No, Dalya didn’t need to pick a fight with Autumn.
“Dalya—”

“Please, I want to hear what she has to say, Sammi,” Autumn
said loudly, one hand on her hip, the other holding a very full glass of wine.

“I didn’t know you were so hard up you were slumming it.”
Dalya tipped her chin up, giving Autumn a cool, disdainful look.

“At least my face moves when I talk,” Autumn replied.

Sammi sputtered, unable to keep from laughing at that jab.
He’d often thought the unnatural way Dalya’s face didn’t move was disturbing.

Dalya gasped and glared at him, though her words were
directed at Autumn. “Bitch.”

Autumn rolled her eyes. “Is that all you’ve got? Please.”

Sammi could see Dalya’s mind scrambling to put together a
response. Whatever she might say wouldn’t help Autumn’s case to this group.