The Convenient Wife (A BWWM Steamy Marriage of Convenience Romance) (3 page)

“If that’s what you’d prefer, Mr.
Lambert.”

“Dorian, please,” he replied. “My
grandfather is Mr. Lambert, and for reasons I’m sure are obvious, I’d rather
not be put in the same league as him.” He winked.

A smile quirked the edges of my
lips. “Fair enough.”

“Would you mind terribly if we
talked?” Dorian asked, glancing over his shoulder to make sure we were alone.
“Somewhere more private? Or at least free of my mother?”

“I think that
they’re expecting—”

“Don’t worry, Gigi. The nurse just
gave him enough morphine to put him out for the rest of the day. There will be
plenty of time to hear more of his inane rambling. I promise. He’s too stubborn
to die before he has the chance to insult everyone,” Dorian replied. He eyed me
almost appraisingly. I wasn’t sure how a man could simultaneously make me feel
like a slab of meat, yet flattered at the same time. Once he’d raked his gaze
back up past my curves and to my face, he raised a brow. “Since you’re still on
the clock, how does breakfast sound?”

I wasn’t sure how to answer that,
actually. On one hand, it sounded great—a free meal was just what I needed
after a morning of debt collectors, disappointing fathers, and dying racists.
On the other, I wasn’t sure what a man like Dorian Lambert could possibly want
from a woman like me. I was hardly his type. Hell, I wasn’t sure they made
Aphrodites anymore. And this guy could
definitely
pass for a Greek god.

Still, what was the harm? I smiled.

“Yes, Dorian,” I said, pushing my
insecurities aside in favor of food. “Breakfast would be perfect.”

“I really couldn’t help but overhear
earlier,” I said after Ms. Deveraux and I had been seated in a corner booth,
far from the rest of the patrons. This was one of my favorite breakfast spots,
and if I knew my family, they had been working the lovely Gigi to the bone.

“So, you were eavesdropping.”

“If that’s what you want to call it,
yes,” I said, shrugging as I took a slow drink from my complimentary glass of
water. “But I didn’t
mean
to
eavesdrop, and that’s the important thing.”

“And what, exactly, do my student
loans have to do with you, Mr. Lambert?”

“
Dorian
,”
I said, cutting her off. “I don’t intend to be Mr. Lambert until that old
bastard is cold and in the ground and not a second sooner.”

From the look on her face, I could
tell she was a bit taken aback. Even in shock she was pretty, her dark skin and
honey-colored eyes were a perfect complement to her regal cheekbones. I sighed,
rubbing my temples as I worked out a polite way to explain.

“You don’t have a very high opinion
of your relatives,” she observed, filling the silence for me.
Saved by the sexy lawyer,
I thought.

I offered her a smile. “An
understatement of epic proportions, Ms. Deveraux.”

“Gigi,” she said, her full lips spreading
in a playful grin. “And you know buying me breakfast won’t help you when it
comes to your inheritance, don’t you?”

I let out a laugh, shaking my head.
Oh, how wrong you are
, I thought.

“That’s not entirely true,” I said,
“and it brings us right back to why your student loans—or any of your debts—are
so important right now.”

The waitress returned with both of
our coffees, which the two of us immediately began to drink. Gigi didn’t even
touch a drop of her cream, sipping hers straight black—my kind of woman.

“You’re an intelligent woman. We
both understand my dilemma. I’m asking if, for the right price, you might be
able to give me some
legal
advice. I
want my family off my back, and you have student loans that need to be paid.”

“Are you trying to bribe me,
Dorian?” she asked, a look of suspicion and a hint of anger crossing her face.

“I’m just asking for your legal
counsel. You help me out of this mess, and I take care of your student loans.
You’ve heard the dying man’s last wishes. He has some rather backwards ideas
about the world, and I’d prefer not to let a dead man ruin my life.”

“Mr. Lambert wasn’t being ambiguous
Dorian. This is his fortune to give away, and he’s lining out the terms of your
inheritance.”

There was a long moment of silence
between us as I weighed her words. She almost seemed happy about all of this.

“The terms aren’t acceptable Gigi.
Perhaps you could slip in some kind of loophole,” I replied, smiling to break
the tension. “Even a partial inheritance would be more than enough. I could
begin to rebuild my father’s company instead of watching my mother destroy it.
There’s more to this than just money, but I would see that you are well
compensated.”

“Tell me again how this isn’t a
bribe?” she replied, putting out a smirk of her own. “There isn’t going to be a
loophole. The only way you’re getting that inheritance is with a wife and a
baby boy on the way.”

Sharp
girl.
“I can’t let the
old bastard win. If I’m going to get married, it needs to be on my terms, not
his.”

“You’re being very theatrical about
all of this,” she said, furrowing her brow. “I’m not a big fan of drama.”

 
“It’s part of my charm, I promise.”

Gigi gave me a skeptical once-over
before signaling for me to continue.

“You and I both want something,” I
said, leaning over the table conspiratorially. “I want my family off of my back
so I can be free to live my life the way I want to after my grandfather is
dead. And you want to not have to worry about paying your debts. There has to
be a way to come together on this. What about one of those mail order brides?”

“There’s no way you’ll get them
through the immigration process in time,” she replied with a tired look on her
face.

“It sure would piss him off though.
You should hear the things he says about the Chinese…” I said, trailing off as
a flash of anger crossed her face. Clearly she’d already learned of Grandpa’s less
than stellar appreciation of the world’s many races.

“Maybe you need to do this the old
fashioned way, Dorian. Meet someone. Get to know them. Go to church. Wine and
dine the girl. Marry her. You’ve got a whole year to put a bun in the oven.
That’s plenty of time.”

“Do I look like the kind of man who
wines
and
dines
?”

“Are you telling me this is just
breakfast?” Gigi said in a mocking way that was cuter than she meant it to be.

“You think this is funny, don’t
you?”

Gigi just smiled wider, flashing her
teeth at me in a way that ran a little shiver up my spine. I sighed. She was
exasperating, but in a good way. She didn’t seem the kind of woman who let
anyone get anything over on her—yet another admirable quality. I sat back in my
seat and took a moment to stare into her dark eyes, an idea catching within the
depths of my mind like a spark. The longer I stayed silent, the brighter it
became. It was crazy. The idea a lunatic might entertain…

“You know, if we keep doing this
somebody might get the wrong idea,” I said, smiling at Dorian over a criminally
delicious looking fusion of European cuisine. I took a long sip of wine,
attempting to sooth my worries. It was a vintage Malbec Dorian had ordered from
the upper echelons of the wine list. At eighty dollars a glass I was going to
enjoy it.

Days had passed since our first
little extra curricular meeting, but another long stretch spent with old man
Lambert hadn’t left me quite as drained as usual. Today was all about the fate
of the multitudes of companies and organizations held under the umbrella of the
Lambert empire. I’d diligently been taking notes for most of the afternoon
before I realized he was liquidating companies that hadn’t existed in decades.
Dorian had watched the proceedings with a smile on his face, but he seemed more
interested in me than the inane ramblings of a dying man.

“Are you complaining? If you’d like
I could drop you back off. I’m sure Grandpa has an excellent plan for the
future of his rotary phone manufacturing plant,” Dorian replied, laughing.

“At least I’m not the only one
suffering. If you think this is bad just you wait. Tomorrow we start on land
and property holdings, and that folder is four inches thick.”

Dorian winced as I sat back in my
chair, letting my eyes wander. We were seated inside a restaurant so exclusive
the waiting list was months out. That hadn’t stopped us from walking through
the front door and getting an immediate table. The little converted house it
was built in was just outside the center of the city, a holdout against the
inevitable march of progress. Serving exorbitantly priced dinner in this spot
for eighty five years, Taste wouldn’t be around much longer. Skyscrapers rose
only a few blocks away, and already the land under our feet was worth too much
to ignore.
 
Any day now, some old
rich bastard would come along and knock this place flat, never having the
pleasure of eating this incredible food.

“I don’t suppose you’ve given my
offer any additional thought,” Dorian asked.

“You mean the illegal attempt to illegally
bribe me to illegally modify a billionaire’s will and final testament?”

“When you put it that way it sounds
bad,” he replied, casting me a sideways grin.

“It is bad Dorian. You never know
though… The way he’s rambling, maybe something will change between now and the
time he kicks the bucket. The will hasn’t been finalized yet. He could always
go back and change the terms,” I said with an upbeat inflection to my voice.
Truth was, I enjoyed the thought of Dorian Lambert having his strings pulled by
a soon to be deceased grandfather. I’d taken the time to do a little research
on the heir apparent.

Dorian Lambert, playboy
extraordinaire. Women want him, men want to be him. He’s the ultimate bachelor
and he knows it. This was a man who lived his entire life without a damn care
in the world, and there were only two possible reasons he was sitting across
from me at this table… Sex, and money.

The money was obvious. It seemed
like every time we talked in private he was trying to figure out some angle
that would get him out of his grandfather’s dying requests.

The sex on the
other hand…

We hadn’t had sex, of course, but I
knew it was on his mind. I don’t think I’d ever had a man look at me the way
Dorian did. He flirted incessantly, and I might have encouraged it a little
more than I should have. At first I thought he was just buttering me up so I
would help him, but there was something sincere behind his eyes. It was an
ethics violation to keep having these little meetings, but a part of me wanted
to keep seeing him…

And
maybe do more than just see him.

I tried to shake the thought out of
my head and took another sip from my glass. It was never going to happen. When
all of this was over Dorian would go back to his supermodels and his mansion,
and I’d go back to my crippling debt and my shitty apartment. I was just a
distraction right now, and I knew it.

“So how’s the wife hunt going?” I
asked, shaking off the thoughts rolling around in my head.

“Bad, seeing as I’ve spent my last
handful of days in my Grandfather’s room. I swear if I have to spend another
week listening to him I might just marry his nurse and be done with it.”

“Helga?” I laughed, hard.

“She’s a strong woman,” Dorian
protested. “Love knows no bounds Gigi!”

I just laughed harder. The idea of
Dorian standing at the altar with the short, elderly, and almost supernaturally
muscular Bavarian nurse was too much to handle. “I think she might be a bit
past the baby making stage,” I managed to get out.

“Be that as it may,” Dorian said,
tapping his finger on the table, “the contract didn’t line out terms for the
pregnancy. In-vitro fertilization is on the table.”

“Get serious Dorian,” I replied,
catching my breath. He sat back and smiled at me, letting his shoulders flex
and settle into a comfortable position as he took up his side of the
beautifully carved wooden booth. I took a moment to admire the way his body
moved against the inside of his incredibly well tailored suit… A suit that
probably cost more than my now repossessed car…

“You still with me Gigi?” his voice
drifted into my hazy thoughts and snapped me back to attention. He had the kind
of shit eating grin on his face that let me know he’d caught me admiring…

“Sorry, it’s still early,” I said,
grasping at my coffee and taking a drink as I looked away.

“Anyone ever tell you how sexy you
are when you’re nervous?” Dorian asked. Before I could respond, I felt the tips
of his fingers brushing up against my left hand, softly running the tips across
and setting off little sparks of sensation as a shiver went straight up my
spine.

There it was again. The raw
attraction. Before I’d met Dorian the closest I’d come to feeling this way was
in a dream. Now every muscle in my body was taut like a bowstring, anticipating
his touch. We’d been meeting like this for days and he’d never been anything
but a gentleman. He might get a little flirty, but it felt safe because he
never tried to take the next step. With his hand against mine, I wondered if
maybe he’d invite me out tonight…. And if he did… Would I take him up on the
offer?

I jolted myself upright, pulling my
hand away.

“What’s wrong?” Dorian asked,
cocking his panty melting smile at me again.

“This is just… Don’t play with me
like this. You know there’s a line I can’t cross. I know exactly what you want,
and I’m not here for your personal pleasure.”

“I never said you were. Besides, I’m
in a giving mood tonight.”

I wasn’t used to someone being so
forward. My experience with men had been limited, and having someone like
Dorian chasing me was empowering. I could smell his alluring cologne, and my
hormones were making their first appearance since I was a teenager. I’d all but
given up thinking any man could make me feel this way. He didn’t hesitate,
moving himself around the table and standing above me.

“You’re always so focused on the
needs of others… I can see that in you, but sometimes… You need to be selfish,”
he whispered, his fingertip gliding along my neck just beneath my carefully
straightened hair.

“Dorian…” I replied, looking up at
him. It was so strange to see him from this angle, his body powerfully
dominating my personal space. He was tall, and for a brief moment, I wished I
could hook my thumbs into his belt and pull him closer.

“Surely there’s something you want,
Gigi,” Dorian said, smiling. His scent was almost as intoxicating as the wine.
My whole body buzzed, waiting on him to pull me from the seat and drag me out
of here. Then, my body buzzed again… And again…

“Shit,” I gasped, fumbling at the
little purse on my lap. Dorian seemed mildly amused as I pulled the old school
vibrating cellphone from its hiding place and held it to my ear. “Yes Mrs.
Lambert. Of course. Fifteen minutes,” I replied to the matriarch’s demands,
slamming the phone shut and throwing it back into my bag as I shoved Dorian
aside and got to my feet.

“Fifteen minutes? You must not think
very highly of me Gigi,” he said, grinning like an idiot before taking notice
of the look on my face.

“He’s gone, Dorian.”

Leave it to the old man to ruin the
mood one last time.