The Convenient Wife (A BWWM Steamy Marriage of Convenience Romance) (10 page)

Aliments was my mother’s favorite
place in the entire world. It was the only restaurant in the city that she
could do her two favorite things all at the same time: eat expensive food and
feel grossly superior to the people walking by on the streets. The atmosphere
was modeled after the fine French restaurants of Paris, itself and the
clientele were the city’s utmost elite.

I didn’t have the heart to tell her
that the owners were from the Bronx and that
Aliments
literally translated to “food.” I’d let her have at least
some joy in her life.

Even if she was currently trying to
snuff all the joy out of mine.

“So, Mother, aren’t you going to
congratulate us on our nuptials?”

“Did you really think I wouldn’t
find out? I suppose you expected to spring this little farce on me when it was
too late to stop it? There will be absolutely no congratulations of any kind,
Dorian,” my mother said “In fact, you are going to stop this foolishness and
have this travesty annulled forthwith.”

I raised my brow and mouthed
forthwith
to Gigi across the table. She
didn’t look amused. “We’re going to do nothing of the sort. Georgia and I are
going to remain happily married for some time, aren’t we, darling?”

Gigi squirmed. “Dorian,
I…”

“Don’t you get involved. This isn’t
about you in the
slightest
!” my
mother snapped, her upper lip trembling with rage. I had to admit it was one of
my favorite expressions to bring out on her Botoxed face.

“You don’t get to talk to her like
that,” I purred. “She’s your daughter-in-law now.”

“She is nothing of the sort,” my
mother hissed, lowering her voice as the waiter set down her first glass of
wine. Once the young man made his escape, she returned her tone to normal
volume—which for Mother, was somewhere between wailing and screeching. “This
‘marriage’ is nothing but a sham! An utter mockery of the bonds of holy
matrimony. And I will not have it stain our family’s good name.”

“What good name would that be, Mother?
The name that all too recently was connected with a child labor scandal in the
Philippines? Or the name that has its many assets being shut down for
fraudulent business practices?”

She sneered at me over the rim of
her glass. “Well, well… look who’s taken an interest in current affairs all of
a sudden.”

My mother’s glare was venomous; had
she been a snake, I would have been struck dead right over my empty plate.

“I’ve taken quite an interest in how
you’ve turned my father’s business empire into a complete circus.” I took a
long sip from my own glass of wine, my eyes never leaving my mother’s. “I can
only imagine dear old Dad rolling in his grave after what you’ve done to his
baby.”

“Your father,” she snarled, and I
could have sworn she was about to spit at the very mention of him, “didn’t know
two wits about running a business, let alone how to maximize his profits—that
was always
my
area of expertise. But
your father never liked my ideas, always going on and on about his moral
compass.”

“Dad had standards,” I shot back at
her, trying to maintain my decorum in front of my new bride, who increasingly
looked as if she might sprint straight through the floor-to-ceiling windows and
make a break for the nearest taxi at any second. “Dad actually had a soul.”

My mother waved her hand. “You
father was a bleeding heart, Dorian. A fool who loved his hopeless causes.”

“He was your husband,” Gigi piped
up, her brow creased. “Doesn’t that matter at all?”

“He was a means to an end,” she snorted,
shooting a glare over at Gigi, “Just like you are.”

Okay. She could talk to me however
she pleased. That was our relationship. But Gigi? That made my blood boil. “Mother!”

My mother swept her arm so wide and
so quick I was sure she was going to take out the rest of our glasses on the
table. “You don’t think I see what this is, Dorian? A way to weasel out of your
grandfather’s dying wishes? This isn’t a marriage, it’s a business deal—just
like mine and your father’s! And it’ll turn out just the way ours did… with the
two of you at one another’s throats until the other one files papers or dies
trying.”

“And what if it
is
a business deal?” I shot back at her, my fists clenched beneath
the table. “So what? What do you have to lose from it?”

“My good name, Dorian! My
reputation, that’s what!”

“Which is worth what, exactly?”

“More than you’ll ever understand,
son.”

“Please, let’s not have this
discussion here,” Gigi said, trying to defuse the situation and stop my mother
from causing a scene.

Mother laughed. “Oh, your little
ghetto-bunny has come to be the voice of reason, has she?”

“What did you just call me?” Gigi
asked, her eyes wide, incredulity scrawled across her face.

“Would you like me to use something
more direct? How about—”

“Enough!” I hissed, reaching across
the table and seizing my mother by her bony wrist. “You won’t dare use that
word. Not to her. Jesus Christ, not to
anyone.
Show some damn decorum.”

Something came over my mother’s
expression, a shadow of anger that passed in a second, giving way to placidity.
That calm look scared me more than the rage ever had.

“You’re right, Dorian,” she said,
her voice one of the utmost civility. “How rude of me. Where did my manners
go?”

“Dorian…” Gigi said, her voice
filled with anger.

“It’s all right, Gigi,” I told her,
though I wasn’t certain it was.

“Gigi,” my mother mused. “How
quaint. You have a nickname.”

I growled a warning. “Watch
yourself, Mother.”

“Oh, Dorian, don’t pretend you don’t
see how funny this all is. I mean, you must have known just how much of an
embarrassment that girl would be to our family if this marriage continues,
don’t you?”

“An embarrassment?” Gigi asked,
narrowing her eyes. “What is she talking about?”

Mother turned to her then, a little
smile working at the edges of her thin, pale lips. “You can’t really expect to
be welcome in
our
circles, can you
dear? I mean, really, a girl like you would never fit in! You’d be a laughingstock.”

Anger sped into me like a blade
twisting in my guts. “This girl went to Harvard.
Graduated
from Harvard on her own dime. She’s intelligent, and
she’ll fit in just fine. You don’t know what you’re talking about, Mother.”

“Don’t I? Your escapades since college
were all well and good—typical for young men from our cut of society to have
their reckless years, sowing their wild oats and all that. You’ve had your wild
parties and strange women. I mean, even your father had a taste for the more
exotic
fare.”

I heard Gigi make a sound in her
throat, a mix of disgust and contempt that I wholeheartedly shared.

“But in the end,” Mother continued, “you
can’t bring that into your
real
life.
Once you’re a man, you need to learn who your prospects are, and not just picking
some gutter-trash lawyer to be your wife. Affairs are one thing, but your wife
is more than just some vows before a priest. It’s a strategic decision—one that
is not made at the drop of a hat, least of all for something so silly as
love
.”

“And that’s all you and dad were,
wasn’t it? A strategic movement? Like you were playing a game of chess?”

“
Were?
Dorian, I’ve never stopped playing. Every single thing I have done from the
moment I met your father has been a game of chess between me and everyone else on
this planet. And I’m
very
good at
chess, son.”

“That’s all that ever really
mattered to you? Dollars and cents? Strategic positioning of your resources to
get you the
most profit?”

“It’s how
our
people see the world, Dorian. We are the upper class, the true
nobility of the modern age. You can’t expect to survive with this
anchor
dragging you down, can you?”

“You’re a real piece of shit,” Gigi
whispered, her voice trembling. I reached over and took her hand, glaring at my
mother as she took another sip of her wine.

“But I’m a rich piece of shit,
darling.”

“That’s it—” Gigi growled, rising up
suddenly from her seat.

As much as it pained me to do it, I
had to stop her. “Gigi, no. This is what she wants.”

Sure enough, my mother had a smile
on her face, her eyes locked onto Gigi’s triumphantly, begging for her to go
any further. I couldn’t believe how my mother would really try to make someone
assault her just to prove a point.

“Careful, Georgia. A temper like
that must run deep—wouldn’t want it to get you into trouble.”

“You bitch,” Gigi hissed, her
nostrils flared in anger. I gently tugged at her shoulder, encouraging her to
take her seat again. I glanced around, making sure no one was looking our way.
I’d been lucky enough to get us a table farther removed from most of the other
diners—that was the magic that a few hundred strategically placed dollars can
buy you, I suppose.

“Harsh words, dear, I’m only being
realistic. You’re a terrible move for my son, and I’ll make sure he knows it
before this is all over.”

I shook my head and grabbed
Georgia’s hand beneath the table, stroking her knuckles with my thumb. There
was nothing I wanted more in all the world than to comfort her, except maybe to
make my mom shut the fuck up. “You’re wrong about this,” I said angrily.

“I’m never wrong, Dorian. If this
marriage is more than just words on paper, why don’t you prove it? Do you love
this woman, Dorian?”

I hesitated as silence fell over the
table, trying to come up with the right words to defuse the situation. I was
about to answer when I felt the heat of Gigi’s glare. Where my mother was cold
as ice, Gigi was like a furnace, a sun unto herself. And right now, she was
burning me up with her rage.

“Fuck you both,” Gigi said, standing
up and pushing her chair back. “I’m
not
going to sit here and take this shit! I might not have been born wealthy, but
I’m not beneath either of
you
. I
thought you might be different Dorian…
”

Without another word, she picked up
her purse and walked toward the door, nearly knocking over the maître d’ on her
way out. Now, of course, the entire restaurant was abuzz with conversation,
their eyes on Gigi as she headed out the door and down the street back toward
the courthouse where our cars were parked.

“It won’t last, Dorian,” my mother
said. Her smile was utterly insufferable, a grin that stretched from ear to ear
and mockingly shouted wordlessly that she’d won this round. “This little
charade of yours is going to crumble all around you, and there won’t be anyone
to blame but yourself.”

“I’m done listening to you,” I said,
standing up from the table to follow after Gigi.

“You’re going to come back, dear.
You’ll learn that in the end, your mother was right all along—this marriage of
yours is a mistake, they all are. Mine and your father’s included.”