Mr. Blackwell's Bride: A Fake Marriage Romance (A Good Wife Book 2) Read online

  I stepped back, evading him. “I’d like to call my father. To tell him I’ve arrived safely.”

  Mr. Blackwell frowned, obviously annoyed that I’d evaded his touch. “That won’t be necessary. I’ll have him alerted.”

  “I want to speak to him.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea, do you?”

  “What? Why not?”

  “It’ll make you homesick.”

  “You would deny me to speak to my own father? My sisters?” Disbelief and horror welled up in me, damming up my voice box so it was hard to speak. Who did I marry? A beautiful yet cold monster.

  “You’re not theirs anymore. You’re mine.”

  “Yours?” I hissed, my composure cracking. “You might have bought this body, Mr. Blackwell, but I will never be yours.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Your attitude will determine whether your life here is heaven or hell. I suggest you rethink it.”

  Anger seeped from me. He was right. I needed him on my side. I grabbed at his shirt, my desperation overruling me. “One call. Please.”

  “I’m not discussing this anymore.” He peeled my hands off him. “The answer is no.”

  Something broke in me.

  “You can’t… You…” Before I could stop it, tears blurred my eyes. He let go of me. I sank to my knees on the plush carpet and sobbed as my heart finally fell apart. After holding it all in. Of trying to be strong.

  In the edges of my grief, I heard him back away from me, across the carpet. The door opened and shut. Asshole. Here I was having a breakdown and he just…left.

  The room felt swollen. The chasm yawned open all around me.

  I was all alone. So very alone.

  11

  ____________

  Drake

  Noriko was…crying.

  I couldn’t move from shock as she slid to the floor, rocking on her heels, her cries tearing through me. I wanted to make her stop. I wanted… I wanted her to stop hurting. I didn’t know how…

  My hands flinched at my sides, helplessness tearing through me.

  Well done, Drake. You had her for less than an hour and you broke her. This is why you can’t have nice things.

  She sounded exactly like…Mama.

  And you’re just like him, a voice hissed in my head.

  I… I stumbled back from the tiny sobbing creature on the floor. No. I’m not like him. I’m not…

  Before I knew what I was doing, I was racing out of Noriko’s bedroom. I didn’t stop until I pushed my way out into the corridor, almost barreling over Loretta in the process.

  “Oh, Mr. Blackwell I was coming to— What’s wrong?”

  I shook my head, guilt burning my lungs. Damn her. Damn Noriko. “I didn’t do anything,” I snapped. “She just started crying.”

  “Oh, poor thing.” Loretta’s face pulled into one of concern. She gazed past my shoulder to Noriko’s door. “It’s understandable. She’s had to leave her family behind, now she’s all alone in a foreign country. All these new people.”

  I stiffened. Perhaps I was a bit hard on her. No one ever thought to take it easy on me.

  I waved at the mocking silent door. “Go in there and…” I had no damn idea what. I let out a growl. “Just make it better. Make her better.”

  I spun on my heel and strode away, ignoring the look of disapproval on Loretta’s face. The knot that’d wound around my heart tightened, my complete ineffectiveness and helplessness like a noose around my throat.

  For the first time in a long time, I felt totally and utterly out of my depths.

  12

  ____________

  Noriko

  What had I done?

  I’m sorry Papa, I don’t think I can stay here.

  I must. I could not live if my papa died. This experimental treatment was his only hope. I couldn’t live with myself if I killed him.

  My sacrifice ripped me apart. I gripped the carpet of my gilded prison as my heart spilled out onto the floor. I cried for my father who I could not reach, I cried for this unfair life, and I cried, selfishly, for myself. For marrying such a horrible, horrible man.

  Between my cries, I heard the door open and shut. I felt soft, fleshy arms pulling me to my feet and motioning me towards the bed. “There you go, love.” It was Loretta, her voice soothing. “Get into bed.” She pulled the covers over me, clothes, bag and all.

  She sat beside me and brushed my hair. I couldn’t help but lean into her touch. She smelled like lavender and baby powder. It had been almost three years since I felt a gentle hand stroking my hair back. God, I miss Mama so much. If only she were here.

  “There now,” Loretta shushed softly at me. “Everything’s going to be alright.”

  No, it’s not. “I hate him.”

  “He’s a good man. You’ll see.”

  “He’s a beast of a man,” I sobbed.

  “He’s a bit rough around the edges, yes. A good wife will help smooth those edges out.”

  “He won’t let me call my father.”

  Loretta sighed. “He’s got his ways, Mr. Blackwell does. If he refused you to speak to him, it’s only because he thinks it’s best.”

  I gritted my teeth. Best for who? Best for him?

  Loretta smiled. “You just need to give him a chance.”

  “He doesn’t deserve it.”

  “Everyone deserves a chance.”

  I was running out of tears. They were drying on my cheeks. I folded my arms across my chest and stared off at one of the walls. Mr. Blackwell did not deserve anything from me.

  She patted my arm. “You have a choice, dear, on who you want Drake Blackwell to be. I’ve seen him tear down his opponents without mercy like they were made of paper. But if you are loyal to him, if you stand by his side, he can give you the world.”

  “I don’t want the world. I want my papa. I want my family.”

  “There comes a time in every girl’s life when she needs to leave her family and start one of her own.”

  I clutched my bag closer to me. Loretta didn’t know my plan. No one did. Mr. Blackwell would never be my family. I would never have his child. Never.

  “When Mr. Blackwell told me he was going to take a wife, I was tickled pink. It’s about time that man settled down and had a family of his own. Lord knows, he deserves it after…” She cleared her throat.

  I sat up in bed. What was she about to say? After what?

  “It’ll be good to have children here again. It always cheers up the house when they’re around.” Loretta smiled, her face lighting up, her eyes going misty.

  I sniffed and wiped my cheeks, my curiosity overriding my sadness for now. “How long have you been here?”

  “Since Mr. Blackwell was born. I was his nanny. When he stopped needing a nanny, well, I suppose I never left.”

  I let out a snort. “I don’t think he ever stopped needing a nanny.”

  Loretta laughed and rubbed my arms. “I’m glad you’re here, Noriko. You’re a breath of fresh air. I daresay, you might be the best thing to ever happen to him.”

  Not likely.

  I said nothing. No need to burst Loretta’s bubble or make her suspicious that my intention was to leave after one year.

  She patted my arm. “You take tonight to be sad, girl. I’ll have someone come up with some dinner.”

  “But, Mr. Blackwell…” It was our wedding night. The memory of his devilish eyes brimming with some kind of primal hunger sent a shiver through my spine.

  “I’ll handle him, don’t you worry.” She moved towards my bedroom door.

  “Loretta?” I called before she disappeared out my door.

  “Yes, dear?”

  “Thank you.”

  She nodded before she left me alone with my swirling thoughts.

  13

  ____________

  Drake

  I paced my study, a mahogany and forest-green room off to the side of my bedroom.

  Damn her. Purchasing a wife was supposed t
o be easy. Uncomplicated. Unemotional.

  I ran my hands through my hair, my eyes falling to the nearly full bottle of 55-year-old Macallan scotch I kept in a glass cabinet for when I had guests. I never drank. Alcohol numbed my brain and I needed my brain to run my business properly. Tonight, the scotch seemed to call to me.

  Just one drink wouldn’t be so bad, would it?

  Someone knocked on my door, breaking that line of thought. Loretta entered the room, shutting the door behind her.

  “Well?” I demanded.

  “She’s calmed down. For now.”

  “About damn time.”

  “Mr. Blackwell…” From the tone of Loretta’s voice, I could hear a lecture coming on.

  I cut her off at the pass. “She’s disrespectful.”

  “Good. Someone needs to stand up to you.”

  “She’s obstinate.”

  “She’s practically still a child.”

  “I should send her back.”

  Loretta sucked in a breath. “Your wife is not a manufactured good you can send back for a refund. She’s a girl, a woman, a human being. Be kind to her.”

  “I am kind.” I made her my wife, didn’t I? I opened up my home to her. All her needs and whims would be forever taken care of. Women all over the country would kill to be in her position.

  “You need to be gentle.”

  “I am gentle,” I roared. The irony slapped me in the face. I let out a sigh and sank into an armchair. “I will try to be gentle.”

  “Good. Even though I’m sure you’re eager to, um, get acquainted with her, I think it’s best if you leave her be at least for tonight.”

  “What?” My dirty thoughts about getting acquainted with her that had been swimming around in my head since she tumbled into the limo all came back to me. Her slim body looked breakable. Her perky breasts looked like they’d fit in my mouth. And God, her lips did this pouty thing when she spoke back to me in that insolent tone that made me want to bend her over my knee and—

  Hot desire coursed through my body. She was my wife. I wanted her. I wanted to possess her. I wanted her belly swollen with my child. With my heir.

  She was mine. Her body was mine. There was no way I was leaving her alone for another second.

  I stood and strode towards the door. Loretta blocked my path, jamming her fists onto her hips. “Drake Blackwell. I will not have you going in there and forcing yourself on that poor girl while she’s in a vulnerable state.”

  I growled at Loretta, but I didn’t push her aside. I muttered something about obstinate women under my breath. Loretta glared back at me, not a shred of fear in her eyes. It reminded me of another obstinate woman…

  “You have one chance to get her to like you, perhaps even care about you. She could make you happy, Drake, if you let her.”

  She could make you happy. Loretta’s words poked at something long lain dormant deep inside me.

  “Are you listening to me?” she said. “Don’t. Fuck. It up.”

  I lifted the corner of my lip. “Loretta, I’m shocked. Did you just swear?” I didn’t think I’d heard her swear. Ever.

  She straightened up, brushing down the front of her uniform, the one she insisted on wearing. “I don’t remember saying anything of the sort.” She gave me the eye. “Promise me that you’ll let her be until she’s ready.”

  I growled. Suddenly I felt like a teenager who’d been told by his mother that he couldn’t have his girlfriend sleep over. Except that I was her boss, a fucking grown man, and the woman in question was my damn wife.

  “Drake…” Loretta’s voice was a warning.

  I let out a sigh. “Fine. I won’t get acquainted with her. Just for tonight.”

  “For the week.”

  The week? “Not a fucking chance.”

  “Language.”

  “Two nights.”

  “A week.”

  I gritted my teeth so hard my jaw ached. “Three nights and that’s my final offer.”

  Loretta’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll agree to four nights. Only if you promise to use that time to get to know her.”

  What? “That wasn’t part of the deal.”

  Loretta frowned. “You shouldn’t have to be coerced into getting to know your wife better.”

  “There’s one way I want to get to know her better but you’ve put a stop to that for four nights. You might as well have cut off my balls.”

  “Language, Drake Blackwell.” Loretta’s mouth pressed into a stern line. “You are not too old to set over my knee, you know?”

  Dear God, I bet she would, too. I let out a huff, feeling beaten already. “What do you suggest I do with her, then?”

  “What do you usually do with your dates?”

  I raised an eyebrow at Loretta. Come on, really?

  “Oh dear Lord.” She shook her head, mumbling a small prayer under her breath. “Take her out somewhere nice. Have dinner with her. Talk to her.”

  “About what? I doubt she has a mind for business.”

  Loretta threw her hands up in the air. “There are a lot of things to talk about that are not work-related.”

  “Like what?”

  “I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

  Damn obstinate woman. “Fine. I’ll take her somewhere. Nice. And talk…about something.”

  Loretta let out a long-suffering sigh. “You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Blackwell. Four nights it is and you’ll get to know her outside the bedroom. She’ll need a new dress to wear. Or ten. And shoes, women love shoes.”

  I blanched. “I know nothing about dresses or shoes.”

  She laughed. “Lord, no, Mr. Blackwell. You’re not going to take the girl shopping. I am.” She held out her hand. “Your credit card, please.”

  It was only after she’d snatched the card I’d somehow found myself holding out for her that I wondered how the hell I got here.

  Loretta beamed at me, clearly pleased. Somehow, I’d been duped. I suspected this was her plan all along.

  14

  ____________

  Noriko

  True to Loretta’s word, Mr. Blackwell did not darken my door that night. I spent my wedding night alone.

  I slept fitfully. Partly because I was in a strange bed, in a strange room, in a strange house, but mostly because I spent the night in battle, fighting off the fierce pangs of homesickness that rose inside me. I missed the way Papa would say goodnight with a kiss to my forehead. I missed the sound of my sisters’ deep breathing around me, the rustle of blankets as my sisters moved in their dreams.

  I gave up on sleep early the next morning, drawn from my room in search of food. Mr. Blackwell had already left for work. My family and I always ate meals together. Didn’t they do that here, too? Obviously not.

  After the strangest breakfast I’d ever had—no rice, but eggs, bacon, bread and formed pieces of meat and spices called sausages—I was left to my own devices.

  There was nothing left for me to do except to explore the mansion. I opened each door, peering around, listening for footsteps. I might live here for now, but this was not my house any more than I was a real wife.

  There were an extraordinary number of guest bedrooms and sitting rooms, each one looking cluttered with all this elaborate furniture, fringed lamps, vases and fuss. I repressed a shudder as I peered into yet another large, overly dressed room. I missed the simplicity of my real home, the clean lines, the sparse furniture. How could Mr. Blackwell stand to live here?

  There was also a library, a ballroom, a spa with treatment rooms and a sauna, and a twelve-seat cinema. Did Mr. Blackwell even use any of these rooms? When was he ever home to use any of it?

  Finally, I built up the courage to explore my new husband’s bedroom. You could tell a lot about a person from their bedroom and despite being determined to hate him, I couldn’t help my curiosity.

  Who was the man I married?

  I’d casually asked Loretta at breakfast which room was his and she told me it was one door d
own from mine. I stood before it, a deep green door, and tested his door handle. Finding it unlocked, I slipped inside.

  Mr. Blackwell’s bedroom was palatial and deeply masculine, dominated by dark wood and black leather, each piece of furniture thick and boldly designed. As I walked deeper into his lair I smelled a hint of something spicy in the air.

  In one corner were floor-to-ceiling bookcases and a huge green chair near the window. I ran my fingers across the titles as I peered at his library collection. His fiction collection was small: only a few works of Poe, Hemingway, and Steinbeck. It seemed he read mostly nonfiction: business books, of course, marketing, finance, economics. He also had a number of books on leadership.

  He was obviously very good at what he did. He cared about his work. His success was hard-earned by the looks of all this self-education and obvious by his fine home, his private jet, all his staff. A thread of admiration weaved through me. I promptly got annoyed at myself and stuffed that admiration aside.

  There were two doors that led off his bedroom. My bare feet sank into the rich blue carpet as I crossed his room. I tried the first door. It was his bathroom. The spicy scent I detected earlier must be an aftershave; I could smell it more strongly in here. There was a shower that could easily fit four people and a large built-in spa bath encased in marble.

  The second door wouldn’t open, even as I shook and rattled the handle. It was definitely locked. I stared at the simple door of polished wood, looking different from all the rest of the decorated doors. What was in there? Why was it locked?

  Perhaps he kept a secret ex-wife in there?

  The source of a magical curse?

  A dead body?

  Stop being so dramatic, Noriko.

  I spun to face the room. For some reason, his king-sized bed, covered in a dark gray spread, beckoned to me. I walked right up to it and stared at the expanse. This was where my husband slept. I guessed the right side was his, a book sitting on the bedside table. I fingered the soft cotton and glanced at the door. Did I dare?

  He was my husband. I would be well acquainted with this bed soon enough. Better get used to it.

  I crawled into the middle of the mattress and lay down on the cool sheets, staring up at the ceiling. I got a flash of his chiseled, smirking face raised over me. I could almost feel the press of his hardness against me, again causing a heated shiver to run down my body. I sat upright, startled at the force of my body’s reaction.