Dirty Sexy Player by Laurelin Paige
Which was why I couldn’t have sex with Weston. That was the reason.
It was also why nothing like this could ever happen again. Not even for the show. It shouldn’t need to now anyway. If we were truly dating, we might have engaged in the same behavior he had with women of the past in our earlier days, but as I’d told him, I was supposed to be different. I was the girl he married—not the girl he fucked in a bubble room then never called again.
It was time for me to take charge.
I lifted my chin and cleared my throat. “Hopefully that display was convincing. Because we’re not doing that again. We’ll come back to The Sky Launch every Friday night, since it’s your hangout. We’ll let ourselves be seen here, but when we get to this room we’ll turn the privacy windows on.” I stared at him head-on to make sure he understood what I was saying. “Once we are engaged, the world doesn’t need to know what we are doing in here anyway.”
“Uh, okay,” he said, obviously caught off guard. He shifted in his seat, reminding me he was still...uncomfortable. “You just want to come have drinks every week?”
“You can use that time to teach me the business like you promised,” I said coldly. I didn’t give him a chance to disagree. “I’m going to go to the restroom now and clean up. That will give you some time to take care of your little...problem.”
I turned before he could say anything and headed for the exit, but I heard him call after me, “It’s not little!”
I could tell it wasn’t, just from the shape I’d rubbed against. Weston was packing, there was no doubt about that.
But I wasn’t in the mood to give him any less rejection than what I’d felt. I swiveled my head in his direction, tossing my hair over my shoulder. “I guess I’ll never know, will I?”
With those parting words, I left the bubble room.
Seven
“You going to tell me what you’re moping about today?”
I glanced up at Donovan who was flipping through LeeAnn Gregori’s portfolio while we waited for Elizabeth to arrive for our meeting with the famed wedding planner.
What the hell did he mean by moping? I glanced down at my body language— my arms folded, my shoulders hunched.
My frown deepened.
I was irritated, that’s what I was. And I had been for the last several weeks, the source of my irritation none other than my bride-to-be. For the last month we’d played the fake courting game, going to lunch at least once a week, where we usually ended up bickering about restaurants or menu items, and attending the symphony where I always fell asleep before intermission.
Then every Friday night we’d returned to The Sky Launch where she’d sat so perfectly innocent beside me, asking questions about mergers and stock options while her lids fluttered as she thought. And each time I was forced to give her knowledgeable answers when all I could think about was pulling her back onto my lap. Making her hips grind against my dick the way they had that first night, when she was putting on a show. I wanted to make her grind against my dick for real.
I hadn’t changed my mind about what I’d said—fucking was a bad idea. It would make things messy, and I didn’t do messy. She’d already proven that she couldn’t mix sex with business by how she’d acted immediately after. One orgasm and she’d turned cold and snide, shoving her nose up as though what we’d done was dirty or beneath her. Imagine how she would have reacted if I’d treated her to a night at the Weston Inn. Dirt and filth were the house specialty—money back guaranteed.
But it didn’t change the fact that I was still attracted to her, that I still thought about her pouty lips and perky round breasts, that I could still remember the scent of her arousal drifting in the air as she pressed her pussy against my straining cock. Fuck, if I didn’t hear those breathy little moans in my sleep, and the way her face twisted in pleasure as she called out my name haunted me when I sat at my desk trying to concentrate on marketing conversion rates. My hand was getting such a workout from the memories that I wouldn’t be surprised if I got carpal tunnel before our marriage was through.
None of this was anything I was going to admit to Donovan, though, because that asshole was the reason I was in this shitty situation in the first place. I was starting to believe my misery was his form of entertainment, and I wasn’t giving him anything I didn’t have to.
“I’m not moping.” Shit, even I could hear the scowl in my tone.
“Good. Brooding looks much better on me than it does on you.” Donovan shut the portfolio and crossed one leg over the other at the knee.
I clenched my fist, but took a breath so I wouldn’t be tempted to punch him.
“She’s late,” I said, when I was calm. We’d been waiting in the lounge for ten minutes, but Donovan knew I was speaking about Elizabeth and not LeeAnn Gregori, though technically she was late as well.
“She’s probably in traffic. It’s rush hour in New York City. No one’s on time.”
That was Donovan, always making excuses for her. “You really should’ve been the one to marry her,” I grumbled, the thought making my stomach turn in weird strange ways.
He shook his head and opened his mouth, but before he could give me his usual spiel, I added, “People would have bought it.”
“I was about to say that I don’t really care for the girl.”
My jaw dropped, and I stammered wordlessly for several seconds. “What?” I finally managed. “What does that have to do with anything?” As if I cared for the girl.
He narrowed his eyes in my direction. “Do you really want me to prove that you like her more than I do?”
I hesitated. Because...could he? Prove it?
Of course he couldn’t prove it. He was bluffing, as always. I didn’t like her better. I barely liked her at all.
But Donovan was good with his propaganda. So it was best not to let him speak, best to drop it.
Except I didn’t want him thinking I actually liked Elizabeth.
Which made it a good time to tell him my other news.
I sat forward and rested my elbows on my thighs. “I officially offered the marketing job to Sabrina Lind today,” I announced.
His chin tilted up ever so slightly. “Oh?”
“I should have done it a long time ago. Robbie will be leaving for London in three weeks, and we need the spot filled. I’ve just been busy, I guess.” Busy playing boyfriend to Elizabeth. Spending all my time focused on her had made it difficult to remember why I’d wanted Sabrina to transfer to New York so badly in the first place.
“What did she say?” Donovan asked, seeming only slightly interested. It was a rather important position in the firm, though, so he was surely cataloguing it somewhere in his brain.
“She said yes. We have to work out the transfer package and help her find a place to live. She’ll be here in a month.”
“I’ll take care of it,” he said quickly. Then he changed the subject abruptly. “I have news as well.”
“Oh?” I tilted my head back toward him.
“I’ve decided I’m staying. Cade has a handle on the Tokyo office. New York City seems to need me. I’ll stay and take on operations.”
That was so Donovan. Making all the decisions for the firm without asking anyone else’s opinion. Not that I wasn’t glad to have him here. The work had grown to be too much for Nate and me, and I really didn’t give a fuck about operations. Just, it would be nice to have a say in things every once in awhile.
I pretended it didn’t bother me. “Great. Glad you decided to stay.”
Before anything else could be said about it, the doors opened to the waiting room. We both looked up expectantly, hoping to see Elizabeth, but in walked a middle-aged woman with blond hair streaked with gray, skin freckled from too much sun, and the purplest eyeshadow I’d ever seen on someone not in drag. She was dressed in business casual, which still meant lots of bling, and platform heels covered in rhinestones. Apparently this was LeeAnn Gregori.
“Gentlemen!” she exclaimed, an
“The bride’s not here yet,” I said as quickly as I could. Not that there was anything wrong with a groom and groom getting married, but there was no way anyone was groom and grooming me with Donovan. I had my manhood to defend.
“I see. Well, in that case,” she took a step forward, her hand out, “I’m LeeAnn.”
“I’m Donovan Kincaid,” he said, rushing in before I could introduce myself. “This is Weston King, the groom. Elizabeth Dyson is the bride. She’s running late. Also, as we mentioned on the phone with you, this wedding is on a very tight deadline. We are looking at a December date, but it will be a very large affair. Money is not an issue; we’re quite prepared to pay whatever is needed. Tell us what we can do in that amount of time.”
“Yes, yes, we can do something spectacular in that amount of time… Tell me again what your relationship is to this wedding, Mr. Kincaid?”
I bit back a smile. It was always a highlight of my day to watch Donovan get questioned on his authority. It actually brightened my mood quite a bit.
Just then, Elizabeth burst in. She was out of breath and her face was flushed from rushing. My cock jumped in my pants, remembering that she’d looked that way when she’d come on my lap, tempting me into another fantasy of putting that look on her face in other ways.
“Hello, I’m sorry I’m so late. I’m Elizabeth Dyson.” She held her hand out to LeeAnn. “You must be the wedding planner. I’ve heard so much about you. You’re quite famous among my mother’s friends.”
“A pleasure to meet you, Ms. Dyson. I’m honored to work with someone so notable as well. We were just discussing what Mr. Kincaid’s involvement was in your wedding to Mr. King?” LeeAnn shifted her eyes from Elizabeth to me.
Elizabeth slipped in between me and Donovan, looping an arm around me as she placed a hand on my partner’s arm. “Oh, Donovan is my life coach. I don’t do anything without his say-so. I invited him here to advise us. I hope that’s not going to be a problem?”
I couldn’t decide if I was impressed at how easily Elizabeth could act on her feet, or if I was annoyed at how eagerly she covered for Donovan.
And why was Donovan here anyway? Didn’t he think we could handle this on our own? Or did he just insist on having his fingers in every pie?
Though I had to admit, it was really nice to have somebody else handle all the big details of a wedding I didn’t give a shit about. Almost as nice as watching his face as it registered with him that he’d just been demoted from Fortune 500 company owner to life coach.
“Not a problem at all,” LeeAnn said congenially. “If everyone is here, let’s sit down and start planning, shall we?”
We sat down and LeeAnn filled out a few initial details about us in her tablet. Then we jumped right into making arrangements.
Immediately, we hit a snag.
“I do not think we should have the engagement party at The Sky Launch,” Elizabeth said patronizingly.
“What’s wrong with The Sky Launch? It’s our place, honey.” I made my voice sticky sweet, playing the part of fiancé. “We’re there every week, after all.”
Her eyes narrowed. “It’s your place. How many other women have you taken there? Need I remind you of all the videos on YouTube? Half our guests will be attending and remembering their own trysts with you!”
I rolled my eyes and looked to Donovan, then to LeeAnn. “It’s not like I’m actually inviting ex-girlfriends to the engagement party.” Well, I’d slept with so many women, it was kind of impossible not to invite a few. Or, okay, a lot. “There won’t be that many of them,” I amended.
“I would tend to agree with Elizabeth on this one,” LeeAnn, the traitor, began, “but unfortunately on such short notice, there aren’t many other available places that will hold four hundred to five hundred guests. Unless you want to book the Marriott, I could maybe get—”
“Ew, no. Not the Marriott.” It was Elizabeth’s turn to look to Donovan.
“Considering the circumstances, Elizabeth,” his subtext was clear—fake arranged marriage was the circumstance, “I think The Sky Launch is a perfect venue for the engagement party.”
“Fine,” she huffed. “But I want to be in charge of the music.”
LeeAnn interjected before I had a chance to give my opinion on the matter. “I think that’s a fair compromise. Moving on.”
And so it went. We argued about everything. Every venue, every arrangement. Everything from catering to clothing to wedding-day events to photographers to whether or not we would be throwing a joint engagement shower (I put my foot down with an emphatic no). There was absolutely nothing we could agree on, which was insane because none of it even mattered. I swore half the time it felt like she was arguing just for the sake of arguing. I knew I certainly was.
There was one thing I did feel strongly about, though. “I don’t want my parents involved,” I said.
“Do they...do they know about me?” Elizabeth asked, and I realized I hadn’t informed her yet that I wasn’t planning to tell them anything other than that I was getting married.
“Of course, sweetheart,” I said, careful of my audience. “They’re excited to meet you. I haven’t told them everything about us. Don’t worry about that.” I winked and met her eyes to make sure she understood what I was saying.
She nodded once, but her brow furrowed. “And you don’t want them involved.”
“That’s correct.”
She continued staring at me, her mouth open in that cute little annoying way that said she wanted to say something, and so help me if she did, I wasn’t sure what I was going to do.
“No parents. Got it.” LeeAnn entered the information in her tablet.
“No, my mom will be involved,” Elizabeth clarified. She opened her mouth to say more, then shut it. Then opened it again. Then shut it.
Good girl, I thought. Leave it alone.
But then she turned abruptly to me. “You really need to include your parents, Weston,” she said, her lips set in a smug line that made me want to draw her across my lap and spank it off of her.
“No, actually, I don’t.”
“Why?” She stared at me, her blue eyes looking inside me as though she could see through my walls. As though she thought I would divulge my reasons to her here, of all places.
“It’s none of—” your business, I started to say, but Donovan cleared his throat and I caught myself in time. “Our life is none of their business,” I said, instead.
“It’s their son’s wedding. And what about your sister?”
Shit. I hadn’t thought about Noelle. “We can involve my sister somehow. What can an eighteen-year-old girl do as part of the wedding?” I directed this last part to LeeAnn.
“She could greet people as they arrive, and since you’ve decided against a receiving line, you’ll want to have a guest book. She could manage that.”
“Great. Have her do that,” I said.
“Awesome. Stick a teenager behind a table all night when she’d rather be mingling and dancing,” Elizabeth muttered.
I glared, but otherwise ignored her. “As for my parents, they don’t need to be seated at any special time, they don’t need to have any special recognition, and they certainly don’t need to pay for anything. And that’s final.” I looked over at Donovan, because he was the one person in the room who would understand.
But he didn’t say anything to either back me or refute me.
“Okay, then. You heard him. He doesn’t want his parents,” Elizabeth said in obvious disagreement. She leaned toward our planner. “Make sure that if anyone asks, it’s clear that was Weston’s decision, and not mine.”
God. Sometimes she was a real bitch.
A gorgeous bitch that made my pants feel too tight every time I looked at her too long, or thought about her just right, but a bitch all the
“At the wedding itself,” the gorgeous bitch continued, “We should probably have a large family picture taken, with all the extended family. I have a cousin that would really like to be in that portrait.” She looked at Donovan and me to see if we understood, and we did. She wanted to make sure that her cousin Darrell was invited to be in that photograph. That he was part of one piece of the wedding, so he would feel like the whole thing was real.
“Good idea, Elizabeth,” Donovan said, and she beamed.
“We’ll send him an invitation to the engagement party too, though I’m sure he won’t tear himself away from work to attend.” Again she sounded bitter, and this time, when the bitterness wasn’t directed at me, I felt a tinge of sympathy for her. That she had to play this charade in the first place, for a piece-of-shit asshole who didn’t give a damn about her personally.
Not that I was about to let her know.
“And your bridal parties? Do you have ideas of who you’d like to have in your line?” LeeAnn went on, marking each of our requests in her tablet.
“There are several people I could choose. I have some good friends from college…” Eliza-bitch chewed on her lip as she considered.
Donovan shook his head. “Make it simple. One attendant each. Don’t you think?”
“Yeah, one attendant is good,” I agreed. The simpler the better. Having fittings and rehearsals for something that wasn’t going to last was a waste of time, not only for us, but for these friends of ours as well.
“You’re right,” Elizabeth said. “I’ll pick my friend Melissa from college.”
“If we’re going with old friends, I guess that’s you, Donovan,” I said.
LeeAnn looked confused. “I thought you said he was your life coach?”
“Donovan is my life coach. He’s Weston’s best friend. He’s a lot of things to a lot of different people,” Elizabeth explained.
“I see,” LeeAnn said, though it didn’t really look like she did see.
Donovan side-eyed me. “Do you really think that I would be the best choice for planning your bachelor party? And writing the speech about true love to toast you with at your reception?”