The Mischievous Mrs. Maxfield (38 page)

I knew the effort cost him but he was so infuriatingly noble I made a secret decision to seduce him outright at the end of this week if he still hasn’t gotten over his misplaced principles by then. I had an entire trousseau of sexy, naughty lingerie as my ammunition. I had been reassured multiple times when they were being picked out for me, that they could take down a strong, powerful man like a snake bite. 

Let’s just hope a certain part of him stays up. If I’d known I was going to do this, I would’ve listened to Clyde’s sex education 101 more aptly than I did.

“As much as I’d like to brag, I wouldn’t want to encourage you to get married just yet, Tess,” Brandon said as he reached out to ruffle his sister’s hair which earned him a smack on the arm from her. “For one, you’re still my baby sister and two, I haven’t met anyone yet that I approve of for you.”

Anna snorted. “Tessa is as old as Charlotte so get off your high horse, Brand. And I didn’t realize we needed your approval.”

Brandon gave her a meaningful look. “If you’d asked for it, you might have avoided certain men.”

Anna blushed furiously and I rolled my eyes at Brandon who didn’t look the least remorseful at that jab at his sister.

“Brand, leave Anna alone,” Martin said firmly from his bed. “A better brother offers advice and support, not I-told-you-so’s.”

“Sorry, Dad,” Brandon said, instantly looking sufficiently sheepish. He walked over to Anna and put an arm around her shoulders. “Sorry, sis.”

My heart swelled as I watched Brandon smile broadly at his sister until she couldn’t resist anymore and smiled back, laughing and smacking him playfully on the chest. 

Despite his occasional arrogance, Brandon was a good son and brother and his family was very lucky to have him.

He’ll make a great husband and father. Some other lucky girl will agree with you someday.

Pain clenched my heart and I quickly quelled the feeling away. I had a year with Brandon—a year I’d decided on our wedding night to make the most of including what we could have between the two of us—and I wasn’t going to waste any moment of it wondering about his future with someone else. 

It’s a risk for your heart but remember, he can fall in love with you just as you can fall in love with him. You just have to hope it happens to the both of you and preferably at the same time.

I inwardly sighed at my thoughts.

As much as I’d like to hope, there was a saying: the best laid plans of mice and men often go awry.

***

Dinner had been a pleasant and relaxed affair.

The food was great, the conversations were full of light banter and Mattie capped it off nicely with a new composition he played on his electronic keyboard which Brandon had brought over from Martin’s house.

It was around seven in the evening when Martin told us to head home early. Tessa and Anna usually stayed with him in the evenings but Brandon and I had been lingering with them after dinner in the past couple of nights that we normally didn’t make it home until about ten.

“Just showering, babe,” Brandon said as he dropped a kiss on my forehead on his way to the bathroom while I sat on the bed and turned the TV on to the vampire show I DVR’d. 

I didn’t have cable in my house before but since I moved into Brandon’s place—and into his bedroom—I’d been obsessing over the sudden luxury like crazy which Brandon only found mildly amusing even if I’d taken over his TV.

Half an hour later, he emerged in dark blue cotton pajamas and a white shirt, his hair damp and messy as if he’d only combed through it with his fingers.

He got a good look at my tear-streaked face and rushed over, putting his arms around me. “Charlotte, what’s wrong? Why are you cry—”

I pointed to the TV where the scene had frozen on pause. “He was going to k-kill her—it was the only way to free him f-from the curse—and he stabbed his o-own heart instead. I just... It was so...”

The sound that rumbled out of Brandon’s chest sounded like a mix of a sigh and a breathy laugh of relief as he pulled me against him, his fingers slowly stroking my hair. “I can’t believe you’re crying over a vampire show.”

“It’s not just a vampire show,” I grumbled sulkily, sniffling as he brushed his thumbs across my sticky cheeks. “It’s true love.”

“It’s true love on a vampire show,” he snorted softly. “Romeo and Juliet and necrophilia.”

I thrust my lower lip out at him in disapproval—Why did he have to make fun of something I find incredibly romantic?—and he just laughed and kissed me on the forehead.

He climbed over the bed and sat cross-legged behind me, his arms wrapped around my frame. He picked up the remote and played the scene again and for the next intense fifteen minutes, we watched the rest of the show. Even Brandon watched in rapt attention as the rest of the episode concluded with an inevitable, tragic and heart-breaking death that just ripped at the soul. A few more tears had continued to escape down my cheeks and when I’d started to whimper, Brandon’s arms tightened around me.

“Whew,” he breathed a minute after the credits started rolling on the screen. “That had been unnecessarily traumatic.”

I turned the TV off and rubbed at my cheeks. “I know but it was so worth it. I haven’t cried from a TV show like that in years.”

He climbed off the bed after me and cupped my cheeks with each of his hand. “I’m supposed to make sure you don’t cry while married to me but I’m assuming this doesn’t count.”

I gave him a wobbly smile. “It won’t as long as you don’t tell a soul about it. Now, I have to go shower because my face is all sticky with tears.”

“And snot,” he teased, pinching my chin before I shoved him away. He just laughed and headed for the door. “I’ll be in my office working for a little bit. Come and get me when it’s time for bed, okay?”

“Not if I decide you belong to the doghouse tonight,” I grumbled. “Remember that saying, happy wife, happy life, Brand? I’ve been told it’s very true.”

He grinned and walked back to me, holding me by the shoulders and yanking me against him as his mouth descended on mine. 

His lips were soft but insistent as he deepened the kiss, his tongue seeking out mine playfully as his hands slipped down to grab my shirt and pull it over my head, leaving me in my cut-offs and pale pink bra. I grabbed a fistful of his hair, pushing myself up on my toes as his hands went further down to fumble with my fly. In one deft move, he pushed my shorts over the curve of my butt, revealing the pink lace panties I had on. Armina had stocked me with a lot of lace panties when she built my wardrobe and I’d quickly developed a fondness for them. Brandon seemed to like them too if the patterns his hands were making over my butt were an indication.

I gulped a lungful of air when he tore his mouth from mine for a moment.

“Was that good?” he murmured, leaning in to suck on my lower lip briefly.

I nodded wordlessly.

A corner of his mouth turned up. “You happy?”

I gave him another dumb nod. 

“Good. Mission accomplished.” 

He suddenly stepped away from me and spanked me on the butt. “Now, you’re undressed enough to get started on that shower. Go!”

My fists clenched on my sides. Now that the air was fully back in my lungs, I yelled after him on his way out of the room. “Brandon, I can’t believe you would do this to me!”

When his laughter floating down the hall was the only response I got, I added, “Payback’s a bitch!”

I trudged to the shower, irritated by the physical frustration he left me in but reluctantly smiling at his antics. 

Once I was done, I slipped on a fresh pair of lacy boyleg panties, a loose tank top and a thick, white terry cloth bathrobe. I towel-dried my hair until it was only damp and combed the tangles out of the waves that I smoothed down my back.

I put on my moisturizer and brushed my teeth before making my way barefoot to Brandon’s office.

It was a large room with a massive oak desk flanked by two floor-to-ceiling bookshelves on each side behind it. The only illumination in the room came from the light sconces on the walls and the city lights filtering through the large bay window behind the desk. My husband was sitting in his chair, his head bent and his attention focused on his computer screen.

“Is this a mausoleum or what?” I said, pausing by the door and looking around until I found the audio controls mounted on the wall. The entire suite was wired with speakers and each room had a very similar control panel. 

“What are you doing?” Brandon asked distractedly as I punched my way to the playlist selection and chose the one I’d uploaded yesterday. Christina Perri’s first track started to fill the room.

“It’s too quiet in here. With your desk the size of a dance floor, I'd expected a party,” I said as I walked over to his desk, peering at the papers he had spread around the piano-sized desk. “This must explain why your social skills were pretty rusty when we first met. Your work constantly turns you into a mechanical robot.”

He lifted his eyes from the screen to smirk at me. “I don’t imagine what else a robot can be but mechanical.”

“Smartass.” I wrinkled my nose at him as I lifted myself up and over his desk, my legs dangling on the side. “By the way, I wanted to tell you. The esteemed Lady Championettes Society invited me to their tea party next week.”

His brows shot up mildly in surprise. “That was fast. It’s good though. I expected their group would want to include the new Mrs. Maxfield. God knows it would give them more leverage when they’re going after me for funds.”

I smiled. “You make them sound like high-class hookers.”

Brandon threw his head back laughing. “If they were, they’re the most well-dressed, expensively educated and socially well-trained hookers there are.”

“I’m not sure about joining their ranks,” I said, tapping my chin with my fingers in thought. “Their cause to aid charity is well and good but I’m not sure if I’m a good fit. For one, I don’t like the requirements of either being at least twenty-five or married to some tycoon—as long as you’re rich and influential enough to add prestige and funds to their cause.”

Brandon smiled. “No one ever said the Championettes were always logical or reasonable. They make no bones about being financially and socially powerful women.”

“And you’re alright with that?” I demanded. “You don’t mind if your wife joins such a silly group who’s so particular about that kind of thing?”

“I would say that it was my expectation that a typical Mrs. Maxfield wouldn’t turn the offer down,” he replied. “That it would be more of a shock if she didn’t get invited. But we both know you’re not quite the typical Mrs. Maxfield so do what you feel is right."

I rubbed my hands together as I deliberated it. "Well, I'll show up. I'll do this if they recruit me. Fel made a good point saying that this gives me an avenue to do the charity work I've been wanting to do but I think I'll have to do something about these ridiculous membership requirements."

Brandon grinned. "You sound exactly like what a Mrs. Maxfield would be—determined. If you set the course to change or do something, you have it within your means to  accomplish it."

I shrugged. "I can talk them into it, persuade them to my side, but that's about all that I have in my arsenal."

Brandon shook his head. "That's not all. You have me and what influence I could exert over the Society. You have my entire family to back you up. You even have Jake’s support. Plus you have generous funds at your disposal.”

When I just raised a brow at him, he rambled on. “I opened your charity account already this morning—the same time I transferred your first quarter million in your own bank account.”

My jaw went slack. “I have a quarter million in my bank account?”

Brandon nodded, smiling wryly at me. “You seemed shocked. It was part of the agreement, wasn’t it?”

It sure was. Now I truly feel like quarter of a hooker.

I inwardly sighed and chastised myself for my thoughts. Yes, I’d forgotten about the money because I’d gone ahead with this marriage for entirely different reasons now, it would seem. The money had been the last thing on my mind.

It soured the contented bliss I’d been feeling in the past few days and while it was an unavoidable fact of our arrangement, I didn’t have to think about it. The mortgage was on hold with the bank for some God knows what reason. If I didn’t have to deal with using the money to pay off the rest of it yet, I was determined to put it off.

“Other than your charity account which I will match up to each deposit I’ll be making to your bank account until they’re of equal value, you also have your own checking account for your personal allowance which Felicity has already been accessing for you,” Brandon continued, drawing me back out of my thoughts. “There should be plenty of money around to give you whatever your heart desires, Charlotte, and if it isn’t enough, you only have to tell me.”

What if my heart desires something that isn’t green and without a president stamped on it? What if my heart desires your heart? What will that cost me?

I let out a long sigh and pressed my lips together. “I already have way too much money than I know what to do with. I was used to a very simple life before you came along, you know? If you didn’t come and tempt me with a million dollars, I would’ve never wanted more than what I thought was realistic.”

Like winning the heart of Brandon Maxfield. That was the stuff of a teenage girl’s fantasies. He didn’t marry someone like me in real life. At least not without the most suspicious circumstances.

“It’s never wrong to aspire for something better in life, Charlotte,” he said softly, his eyes kind and gentle. “Hope is like a treasure map. You know there’s something great waiting for you at where the X is marked. Even though the journey to get there is tricky and full of dangers and risks, you know it’ll be worth it in the end so you go do it anyway.”

I didn't disagree. I just decided that some treasures were harder to find than others. Hoping for a perfect happy ending with Brandon would be like looking for Atlantis—futile. It was nearly as mythical as the lost city.

Which is why you don't think about it. Don't look for what's not there. Just make the best of what you could have, here and now.

Forcing myself to lighten up and change the topic before I got too maudlin, I smiled and reached over to pick up some important-looking papers off the desk and scanned them. “... facilities expansion... safety standards... requirements stipulated in the proposal... overarching authority for the operations... blah, blah, blah. Hmmm. Mind-blowing stuff. I can see why you can't resist."

I kept reading on, dodging his reach.

“Give it back, please,” he said with a visible effort at patience as he held out a hand to me. "I was trying to work, if that wasn’t obvious yet."

I held the document out of his reach, pretending keen interest on it as I crossed my legs and leaned back, resting my weight on the heel of my other hand which was propped against the desk. "Oh, it's obvious, alright. Can't miss it if I tried. You look as stern as an evil school principal in those movies made to frighten children into becoming real miserable adults who hate the world and everyone in it."

His mouth twitched with a reluctant smile which he smothered right away. "In that case, I'm tempted to subject you to some kind of disciplinary action right here in my office."

I smiled and raised a brow at him. "That sounds like something that totally shouldn’t sound like it.”

I hitched my leg up to drape it over the other, causing the robe to slide open enough to reveal much of my bare thighs and a hint of my lace panties. 

I felt an immense sense of satisfaction watching Brandon’s eyes follow the movements, flaring with heat as they went along. I lightly rested one hand on my knee, flexing my fingers as they slowly traced the line up my thighs in a seemingly casual gesture, which wasn’t really casual at all, before lifting it to flip my hair over my shoulder. My dark, honey-gold hair cascaded into a thick, bouncy curtain on one side of my tilted face, covering my slightly bare shoulder where the robe had slid off. The neckline had gaped and showed off the inner swell of one of my breasts through the low cut of the tank top, hiding the rest away for imagination.

I wasn’t a trained temptress but after over a week of living together, it was easy to figure what tormented Brandon sexually. If I wasn’t enjoying this so much, I’d remember to feel nervous and probably fall off this desk.

“I have a feeling I’m the one being punished here,” he croaked in a low, strained voice as he swallowed hard and glanced up to meet my eyes. 

Flashing him a crooked smile, I shrugged casually. “Punishment is only for those who don’t know how to play the game. For the rest of us, this is merely strategy.”

Yes. A strategy hopefully resulting to the princess being abducted and ravished by the prince. Yes. Good strategy. Excellent strategy.

Brandon groaned and shook his head before hauling me off the desk and down on his lap. 

I shrieked a little, losing my balance momentarily, but his strong arms easily caught me around the waist and trapped me against his powerful legs as he leaned back against his chair.

“You’re a handful, you know that?” he said with a resigned smile. “You’re an exasperating, cheeky little troublemaker who will plague me for the rest of my life.”

I scrunched up my nose and settled comfortably in his arms, letting my legs dangle over the armrest of his chair. “I would hardly call a year the rest of your life.”

“It would be if I were to die before the year’s over,” he quipped, his hazel eyes bright with teasing. “If not from a heart attack from one of your antics, possibly from a blood clot in certain parts of my body.”

I flushed, knowing his unworded implication, but I rolled my eyes in defense. “Yes, body parts like your brain, I’m well aware. I think your overly puffed up chest is to blame. Blocks the blood to the brain.”

He laughed and stretched his legs forward to accommodate my weight better. “It can’t if it’s going down a different direction.”

My cheeks were warm and probably as red as a baby’s diaper rash but I forced myself to gaze into Brandon’s eyes, biting my lip nervously and hoping that the next words weren’t going to come out like vomit.

“I meant what I said on our wedding night, you know?” I said slowly. 

He furrowed his brows in thought—a bit too dramatically to be serious, if you ask me. “Hmm, which one of your many nuggets of wisdom from that night? That you don’t relish being the bun to my bratwurst? That you’re a virgin? That you won’t be able to walk again the day after? Which one?”

Okay, so I may have said some stupid things but I didn’t need them rubbed in my face.

“I meant it when I said I want you,” I snarled at him, scowling. “I know it was one lame line but it was my answer to what you proposed on the day after the engagement party at your father’s house. I’ll only say it once and if you still can’t figure it out, then your loss because I’m never uttering another word of it again. Ever. Period. Finito.”

The fluttering of Brandon’s thick, long lashes as he blinked rapidly—like someone had just snapped their fingers in front of his face a few too many times—was too amusing that I started to giggle but I quickly swallowed it down when his expression didn’t lighten up in humor as I’d expected.

In fact, he looked downright—stupefied. 

Well, imagine that. Brandon Maxfield. Stupefied.

I guess if someone rambled on about sleeping with you after they said they wouldn’t ever dare consider it even though they always melted into a gooey puddle of lust at your kisses and touch, you really might feel like someone brained you with a brick.

“You want me,” Brandon echoed slowly, as if saying the words carefully would ascertain the accuracy of their meaning. “You want us. You want this to be a true marriage. You want you and me and our life together.”

I smiled broadly at him, slipping my arms around his neck. “You’re spot on, baby.”

It took him a minute to recover because his face suddenly lit up like Christmas morning and he tightened his hold around me and kissed me deeply.

If decisions were this damn rewarding, I can’t see how difficult they’d be to make.

My fingers raked through his hair, grabbing some and pulling it just a bit tightly to signify the urgency of my need but he broke off our kiss roughly, his breathing uneven and his eyes glazed over with wanting.

“Charlotte, as much as I would love to have you right at this moment,” he started, closing his eyes briefly in an effort to control himself, before looking at me with such intense seriousness. “I want to do this the right way.”

My brows furrowed together. “I was told there are many ways to do this. I’m not picky with whichever one we want to start with.”

Brandon groaned softly. “That’s not what I mean. I want to do this the right way, the way it should’ve been from the very beginning. You deserve a proper wedding night—romantic and magical—everything the way it should be for your first time.”