Money Shot (46 page)

“Two years. Your parents were hoping that you’d produce some grandkids for them to spoil.”

I’m not crying. There is dust in my eye. “They’ll never spoil any grandkids.”

“I know.” Mr. Jackson’s tone softens. “I know.” He clears his throat. “You have until your thirty-first birthday to get me a marriage certificate. If you can’t do that and stay married for two years after the wedding, the trust will go to charity.”

“To charity? It’s over ten billion dollars! You’re telling me that my parents were willing to
donate
that much money to charity if I didn’t give them grandbabies?”

“They didn’t think that babymaking was a problem for you. It wouldn’t matter if you had a dozen grandkids. They wanted you to be in a stable relationship, so that you could be happy. It’s in the video.”

“This is completely unreasonable. I’ll contest it.”

“You can try, but this isn’t in their will. They made a living trust with conditions, and this doesn’t go through the same process.”

I grit my teeth. “I’ll fight this.”

“You can, but by the time that you do, the money could already be lost. Wouldn’t it be easier to marry a girl? Surely there’s at least one who you’d like to stay with for two years.”

Unbidden, my mind jumps to one girl. I don’t even know her name.

“I guess so.” I shrug. “Maybe.”

“Find the right girl, one that you can tolerate for two years. If she divorces you for infidelity, your parents have set terms for her to inherit everything, not you.”

“This is outrageous. They’d give my money to some rando they never met?”

“Yes. You need to choose wisely.”

“So you’re saying that I need to choose a chick that I have to be faithful to for two years after our marriage, and then I’ll be able to inherit the family money?”

“That’s what I’m saying, yes. It’s what your parents wanted.”

I scratch my jaw. With the girl that I’m thinking of, it shouldn’t be too hard. She’s been the one girl I’ve never forgotten, the one who got away. I regret losing her. The first thing is to find out her name.

Slick’s

Violet

THREE YEARS AGO

This whole thing started in a bar.

I was nineteen. My mom was a Bible thumper who practically lived in our church. I had the limber, toned body of a lifelong gymnast. I’d left my competition days behind me when I was sixteen, since I wanted a life outside of the gym, but you couldn’t shake your body type that easily. The strict discipline of gymnastics probably had something to do with my lack of dating when I was younger, too. I’d never had the time. I still ran and did basic conditioning every morning; old habits die hard. I wasn’t as gorgeous as, say, Gabby Douglas, but I wasn’t bad looking, either.

It was a Friday night. Karen, one of the girls who lived near me, wanted me to live a little. We made a bet to see who could pick up a guy first. Loser had to paint the other’s toenails.

Red lipstick and short skirts are magic. They’ll get you into anywhere, even if you’re underage.

We bypassed the line of losers waiting outside of Slick’s. Ninety percent of them wouldn’t make it in. We walked up the bouncer.

“Hey, Dave,” Karen said. She winked saucily at him. Both of us took one cheek and kissed it simultaneously. He colored up, and he let us through. No need for fakes there. We got through like a knife through butter.

There were a bunch of guys gathered around two girls grinding on each other, and there was heavy bass while playing a Rihanna song.

I leaned in towards Karen. “Let’s get drinks.”

“Let’s go.” She grabbed my hand and towed me toward the bar.

“Two sexes on the beach, please,” she told the bartender.

The bartender winked at her. “Coming up.”

He made it a show, a fun show, and he presented them to her with a flourish. She slid him a twenty and said, “Keep the change.”

He thanked her, and he moved onto the next customer, a busty brunette wearing a short baby blue skirt that didn’t cover her lacy purple thong.

As we moved away from the bar, I felt a hand on my ass. I whirled around. It was that tall, weird guy from my intellectual property class at Georgetown, Jaden. He was hot, sure, but he wore a lot of plaid and talked about philosophy a lot. Not my type. And he looked nothing like the brainiac he normally was, dressed like Eurotrash.

“Excuse you,” I sneered.

“I don’t think I will. I’ve waited a long time to grab a piece of your ass. What say we make it tonight?”

“How about not?” Karen and I locked eyes. We knew how to deal with assholes like this.

But, we never got to pull out the moves that we’d learned in muay thai class. A guy with dark hair had his hand on Jaden’s elbow.

“The lady said no. I think you need to move on.”

The people around us were silent, and more eyes were going our way. Jaden was tall, yeah, but White Boy was clearly jacked. He had the build that said he worked out.

“Whatever, man,” Jaden said, brushing White Boy’s hand off his arm. “She’s not that hot anyway.” He walked out past the bouncer, who looked relieved. Seems that White Boy was a better enforcer than Dave. I was sure that he would step in if it’d been needed, but it stopped before it ever got to that point.

“Let me buy you a drink,” I told White Boy. “It’s the least I can do.”

I never bought drinks in bars. One, because my money couldn’t keep up with my drinking. Two, because my cleavage had paid for my drinks for a long time.

White Boy sized me up. He smiled the kind of smile that would make suburban soccer moms run to the store to buy whatever toothpaste he was selling. Whatever cologne he was wearing smelled perfect. I hoped that Jaden’s asshole comment wouldn’t color his perception of me. I was dressed for going out, sure, and I had the kind of body that made men drool. However, I still got very self-conscious when men openly checked me out. Some part of me was always that chubby preteen I’d been before my growth spurt—strong but built like a tank. It was irrational, but I was always scared that I was secretly hideous.

“Sure.”

Karen melted away. We had a routine when it came to things like this. I was winning tonight. She had to do my nails tomorrow when I dished. I walked up to the bartender and laid down a bill. “My friend here would like a drink.”

“What’ll it be, sir?”

“Whiskey on the rocks.”

The bartender gave him his whiskey and moved away. White Boy took a sip.

“So, what’s your name, White Knight?”

He smiled. “I like that. Call me Knight. What’s your name, little lady?”

I took a sip of my drink. “Call me Lady.”

He tipped an imaginary hat towards me, smirking. “Sounds good. What’s a nice girl like you doing in a bar like this, Lady?”

“I don’t know. Having fun, I guess.”

“Not too much fun, though, right?” He arched a brow.

I blushed. He made me feel like the virginal, innocent girl I was. Knight was putting me off my game. “Some fun.”

He leaned in a little. “How about this kind of fun?” He put his forehead on mine. His scent grew stronger. I could see his eyes, with the pupil almost eating the irises. I was pretty sure he was feeling the chemistry, too. My wet panties placed a firm vote in that direction.

His hand stole around the back of my head, and he crushed his lips to mine brutally. Forcefully. And I’d never been kissed that way before, no matter how many men I’d kissed.

The hoots and laughter of an audience broke through my haze, and I broke the kiss. “Let’s go somewhere more private.”

Moreplay

Violet

He nodded and led me out of the crowded, dark bar. We walked past Dave.

“Have a great night!”

He nodded at us. “You, too.”

Knight pulled me down the block a little bit, still within sight of Dave, but out of easy earshot. “Your place or mine?”

“Mine.” I had a single with an attached bath, for this exact reason. I’d told my mom that it had been to avoid distractions and fights, because I needed her to pay the extra price. But it was for this. And for him.

He had a Harley waiting outside. He gave me the helmet, and I wrapped my body around his. The vibration from the motor traveled up into my body, and I got even wetter than I had been from the kiss. The ride got me ready for what was to come.

We arrived. I ran in my heels to the door and swiped my card to get in. He let me go in first. I unlocked my dorm room door, and he was all over me. He was biting my ear. His hands were on my ass, pulling me up. I wrapped my arms and legs around him, careful of my stilettos, and gave as good as I got. I wasn’t good at a lot of sports outside of gymnastics, but tonsil hockey was one where I excelled.

One hand was holding me up while the other unzipped my skirt. Three fingers pushed aside the panties that weren’t there. He felt at the top of my hips for a thong that wasn’t there. I was bare, and he knew it. He sat down on my little twin bed, and he pushed my skirt up my hips so that it sat around my waist.

“Lay on your back,” he ordered.

I laid my back, stiletto heels pointing at the ceiling. I took off my top and bra. He stared at my naked boobs for a moment, before collecting himself and applying himself to the task at hand, which was getting his pants and boxers off. He kicked off his shoes. He was huge and all the way ready.

My eyes were wide. “I’m pretty sure that’s not going to fit.” I’d never seen anybody as big as a Red Bull can before. Bigger. I was sure that it would hurt.

“It’ll fit. Relax.” He started unbuckling my heels, and he dropped them on the floor, careless of how expensive my YSL were. “Need to disarm you.”