My Big Fat Fake Wedding - Lauren Landish Page 0,44
not in the way they expect.
“I must say, Violet, while it has been too long since you’ve been to the house, your coming to dinner is unexpected,” Dad finally says as we all leave the foyer and head toward the living room. “What brings you by?”
“A surprise,” Abi says, saving me with an innocent smile. I swear, she’s looking forward to this . . . which is all the more reason not to trust her.
We settle into the comfortable chairs and sofas that ring the living room, and I spring my first little ‘test’ on Violet. When she goes to sit down next to Abi, I clear my throat and pat my own knee. “Violet?”
I love the way her eyes flash fire, her tanned skin flushing just a little as I basically silently order her to perch on my knee, something I know she’d never do willingly. I’m on edge, so curious whether she’s going to obey. Mom and Dad both give us confused looks while Abi looks about ready to spit nails at me.
Violet debates internally, her eyes scanning me, and I know I’m going to pay for this. Funny thing is, I’m looking forward to it. Seeing what she can come up with to keep me on my toes is an exciting change of pace from my work-sleep-fuck-repeat life cycle.
Finally, she tosses her head, flipping her hair in a dark ebony wave over her shoulder before starting to sit down . . . only to slide past my knee and onto the cushion of the loveseat next to me. Her smile is pure saccharin.
Ooh . . . so close. That was a good one, leading me to think she was going to actually obey and then doing exactly whatever the fuck she wants at the last second.
The funny thing is, I like this attitude from Violet. If I were actually looking for a wife, I’d want one who could match me strength for strength, who’ll give as good as she gets.
The thought is unsettling, something I’ve never really considered in my work-focused life. A wife, a marriage, and especially a family, have always seemed like far-off, long-term goals. Not something to worry about now. And even if I had imagined it late at night, I’d always pictured being married to a debutante-socialite type. Not because that’s my preference but because they’re easy and everyone knows the score. Keep them well-kept and go on with life while they go on with theirs. But that’s not a marriage. It’s a contract.
Somehow, this arrangement with Violet already seems more personal than a gold-digging wife ever would be, though.
“Why, thank you, Ross,” Violet says, resting her hand on my thigh just a little higher than is friendly.
“Violet? Ross?” Dad asks as Mom looks on with equal parts surprise, hope, and glee in her eyes. “Is there something going on?”
“You know we should wait until dinner, Dad,” I reply. “You taught me that lesson. You don’t strike until the right moment.” It sounds like a compliment, but my gaze is hard. I respect him, look up to him—hell, I love him—but that doesn’t mean that I’m not still furious with him for throwing his weight around, threatening me, and putting us all in this position.
“Well,” Mom says, trying to interrupt the tension, “how are things with Colin, Violet? The last I heard from Abigail, you were going to get married soon?” She asks it lightly, but her eyes are definitely laser-locked on where Violet’s hand rests on my thigh. To make a point, I lay my own hand over Violet’s, interweaving our fingers.
I swear my mother is going to have a conniption fit. Only her years of keeping up appearances hold her back from peppering us with the questions I know she has.
Violet tries to remove her hand, but I hold her steady, and she blushes, a pink tone that I want to see flushing her entire body as I bring her to the edge of coming and then make her wait for my command to fall into the pleasure. I mentally smack the shit out of myself. Seriously, what is it about Violet the past twenty-four hours that has me as horny as a fourteen-year-old boy seeing tits for the first time?
“Miss Courtney Andrews,” Karl announces, and Court comes in, looking like a million bucks. I swear, if she wasn’t intent on making her own path in the family corporation, she’d be able to pull seven figures as a fashion model.