The Mischievous Mrs. Maxfield (30 page)

“I’m not in love with her,” Brandon said quietly, his eyes still focused on the road. “It was never like that with Simone.”

“What was it like then?” I demanded. 

He finally gave me a quick glance, his expression wryly amused. “We were friends. We were attracted to each other. Things were very casual at first but after a couple of months, I found it convenient when she suggested we saw each other exclusively. I didn’t have to start over with a new woman each time—going through all the get-to-know-you stages and the initial flirtations and ensuring correct expectations. It was just easier to be with someone who knew exactly what I wanted and what I couldn’t offer.”

My jaw dropped. “You’re saying you dated her because she was convenient?”

He winced at my appalled tone. “We both found it convenient. I didn’t pressure her for time or attention which she mostly pours into her career. I wasn’t one of those whimpering idiots who kept following her around like dogs, asking her to get married and have babies. Simone wants none of that. She’s been married before and she finds a full-blown romantic relationship demanding and exhausting. Our arrangement was just as convenient for her as it was convenient for me so don’t make me out to be such a bad guy.”

“A woman about to tear out her perfectly-pampered hair, falling apart in your main lobby, doesn’t strike me as someone who only had convenience invested in your arrangement,” I muttered, crossing my arms. “And seriously, how many women do you have arrangements with? Are you building yourself a harem or something?”

He laughed. “God, no. I barely have the energy or the sanity to keep up with you.”

My eyes narrowed, unconvinced. “I don’t know about that. Simone seemed expectant about getting entry into your condo earlier. She said the concierge never had a problem letting her in before.”

The implication dawned on me and I groaned out loud, squeezing my eyes shut. “Oh, God. Don’t tell me. Please.”

“I didn’t have sex with her at my condo, Charlotte, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

I kept squeezing my eyes close, ignoring the hand that Brandon placed on my knee. 

“We were friends before we started seeing each other. She’d come over for small dinner parties with friends or for a quick drink and conversation. I told you before—I don’t bring my romantic affairs home.”

There should be some relief from that reassurance but the idea of him meeting up with some woman at her apartment or some discreet hotel somewhere bothered me more. I was afraid to be one of those women who sat around at home, helplessly aware that their husbands were out with their mistresses. It was really ironic for me to worry about that considering I once practically told Brandon to have his affairs somewhere else—not to stop having them.

“Charlotte, open your eyes. Look at me.”

“No.”

“Charlotte, come on. Look at me.”

“I don’t want to because it’ll hurt.”

The hand he had on my knee tightened its grip. “It’ll hurt? Why?”

“Just because.”

“Charlotte...”

“It’ll hurt because if I open my eyes and look at you right now, I might smack you in the face and my both my hands are still a little bit injured,” I grumbled. “Plus, we might get into an accident and get seriously hurt.”

“We’re pulled over, you know?” he said gently, as if addressing a child. “We have been for the last two minutes.”

That got my eyes popping open.

True enough, we were parked at a distant corner of Martin’s curved driveway, just a short distance away from the front steps of his majestic house.

“Oh.” I bit my lip and sagged against the seat, turning my head over to the side and pressing my nose against the cool glass of the window. It had started to drizzle outside, fine drops of rain splattering against the car.

“Charlotte, did Simone say anything unpleasant or offensive to you?” he asked, his tone more serious this time, his hand not budging one bit from my left knee. 

“Nothing I haven’t heard before,” I said with a light shrug, turning my head back to face him. 

His brows knitted with a frown. “I’m sorry.”

My mouth curled up into an ironic smile. “What are you apologizing for? Calling me the same things yourself the first time we met? Or that your girlfriend mouthed off at me too?”

His lips thinned into a line for a second. “Both. I’m sorry for the terrible things I said to you the first time we met. I wasn’t myself at that time. And I’m sorry to have put you in this position with Simone. I broke things off cleanly when I told her I had to get married. I didn’t want to have an affair with her if that wasn’t what she wanted and I really had no room for any more distractions with how my life was turning around so fast.”

“She knows the truth,” I said slowly, lowering my eyes, feeling downright defeated. No matter what Simone might have seen between between me and Brandon earlier, there was no changing the fact that she knew he was only with me because of Martin’s outrageous ultimatum.

Brandon sighed and leaned back in his seat. “She knows most of it. I made the mistake of telling her when I tried to explain why I was breaking it off. I thought it would help her understand better.”

“Anyone who has what she wants within her reach will fight for it, especially when she knows that nothing meaningful really stands in her way,” I told Brandon with a sigh that matched his, my head leaning against the seat. 

“I’m pretty sure she loves you, Brand,” I told him with a small smile, no matter how difficult it was to say the words out loud. 

I put my bandaged hand over his, my fingertips brushing his skin lightly. “It’s not that big a revelation, really. She loves you and it hurts her to see you marry someone else—especially for the kind of reasons you have. It probably stings more for her to know that you’re not standing up to your father and telling him that you’re marrying her instead.”

“It never once crossed my mind to marry Simone,” he said, turning his palm up and catching my fingers with his. “I never imagined her in a wedding dress, walking down the aisle, coming toward me, smiling so beautifully it made my chest hurt.”

There was a tenderness to his words that caused my chest to hurt, apart from the ache dulled by the painkillers. Somehow, I was imagining myself in a wedding dress, walking down the aisle, coming toward him, seeing him smile back at me so sweetly it hurt.

Maybe it was the drugs or maybe it was just Brandon but my whimsy seemed a little worse than usual.

I quickly masked the effect his words were having on me with a crooked smile. “Considering your limited capacity for romance, Brand, I’m not surprised you don’t go spacing out, fantasizing about your dream bride.”

“If I were fantasizing about you, you’d be striding down the aisle wearing sneakers with your wedding dress, taunting convention and tossing me a smartass grin,” he said before we burst out laughing.

We had the sides of our heads pressed against the leather seats, our hands entwined, grinning and staring at each other while cocooned inside the car as the gentle summer rain stirred around us.

“Why don’t you just stay with me tonight?” he said after a moment. “I’ll drive you over here tomorrow morning.”

I wrinkled my nose. “I’m not sure Martin will like that. Wasn’t the whole point of this wedding to please your father?”

He rolled his eyes. “He’s still getting what he wants. I’d like to get what I want every now and then.”

“You always get what you want,” I accused. 

He scoffed. “Not since I met you. I’ve had to make some concessions.”

“It’s about damn time,” I teased, grinning.

His eyes closed briefly as he let out a low groan. “We have to get you inside before my father comes out and finds me mauling you inside the car again, Charlotte.”

I giggled, releasing his hand and secretly regretting it as I unbuckled my seatbelt and grabbed my purse. 

I was supposed to be embarrassed about these things but with everything that had happened between me and Brandon and the circumstances that brought us together, an unlikely friendship had been struck between us, no matter how unorthodox or sudden, and there was little that I wasn’t really comfortable with him about. 

We were like two soldiers going to war who had stumbled upon each other and made a pact to survive together. We were forced to trust each other and watch each other’s backs, moving forward in a united motion born out of instinct and perfect understanding of each other’s personalities. 

“Hang on one sec,” Brandon said as he quickly scrambled out of the car and rounded over to my side.

He pulled the door open and swept me up in his arms—really, Brandon was making a habit of this. 

I blinked against the light rain and clung to him as he walked the short distance to the house. He probably parked further away to keep Norman, Martin’s ever-efficient butler, from seeking us out in the rain with an umbrella.

The moment we arrived at the front door, Norman stepped out, about to greet us, but Brandon held up a hand after lowering me to my feet that the elderly butler retreated politely and closed the door behind him.

“Do people just get your wordless commands?” I asked as I carefully pulled my baseball cap off, shaking the water off my ponytail a little. “Because I already have trouble with your clearly-worded ones.”

He smiled wryly, pushing back some of the baby hair that had gotten plastered on my forehead by the baseball cap. “I know. You usually need a different kind of persuasion.”

I snorted and raised a brow at him. “Oh, yeah? Like what?”

“Like this,” he said before he suddenly leaned down and kissed me.

He cupped the side of my face, his thumb gently brushing against my cheek and his other arm circling  my waist and pressing me closer to him.

Both of my hands clutched his shirt lightly as I kissed him back, my eyes fluttering close, my heart soaring at the sweetness of his slow, tender kiss. I nearly felt boneless.

After what seemed like forever, he pulled away slightly, smiling down at me, his hazel eyes sparkling. 

“I’ll have the rest of your stuff brought over tonight,” he said, rubbing the tip of his nose with mine lightly. “And I’ll see you tomorrow at the church aisle, Mrs. Maxfield. Don’t be late.”

He stepped back and hurried down the steps, striding toward the car in the light rain.

“I won’t be,” I murmured, wrapping my arms gently around myself, fighting the shiver that had nothing to do with the cooler temperature.

Later that night, as the clock ticked by and brought me closer to the wedding day, I became more and more restless.

Dinner with Martin, Mattie, Anna and Tessa had been fun. None of the sisters’ initial dislike of me surfaced. In fact, they helped me lay everything out that I needed tomorrow for the wedding when Felicity, Noli and Armina stopped by to set everything up. The wedding gown was held up by a dress form in the corner of the sprawling bedroom Martin gave me, the shoes, accessories and every possible thing a bride could adorn herself with on her big day laid out on a long, vintage table. 

I should be going to bed if I didn’t want to accessorize with puffy eyes as well tomorrow but my nerves were shot.

With an embroidered, mint-green cotton robe over my pajamas, I made my way downstairs to the kitchen to get a glass of milk or something to help me sleep despite Armina’s warning to stay away from anything dairy before the big day.

I was just walking down the hallway when I saw Martin’s office door slightly ajar, light still spilling out from it.

I lightly knocked. “Martin?”

“Come in, Charlotte.”

I opened the door further and saw the old man sitting in his huge leather recliner by the bay window, leafing through what looked like a photo album.

“Why are you still up so late?” I asked as I took a seat on a smaller armchair across from him. 

He looked up and smiled. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that question? It’s your big day tomorrow.”

I grimaced. “I know. That’s why I’m still up. I’m a little nervous.”

“Why?”

Why? Because mine and Brandon’s ploy officially starts tomorrow. Because tomorrow I’m binding myself to a man I probably should run away from as fast as possible.

“I think any bride will be nervous on the eve of her wedding,” I said with a small laugh.

“Hmm. True, although you’re not a typical bride,” he said, echoing my words from earlier.

You have no idea, Martin. Absolutely no idea.

“Would it have helped if you had your family with you?” he asked quietly.

I shook my head. “I have no family, Martin. Remember? I’ve flown solo for a while now, even when my father was still alive.”

“I hope you know that we’re your family no matter what, Charlotte,” he said with a soft smile. “You will always be like a daughter to me.”

A pang of guilt hit me. Even if Martin’s welfare was among mine and Brandon’s reasons for this scheme, we were still lying to him and it never sat well with me. He didn’t deserve this manipulation from us but I couldn’t make myself walk away.

“Thank you, Martin,” I said, smiling back at him despite the tightness in my chest. “Your children are absolutely lucky to have you for their father.”