Page 14 of Parker

Chapter nine

Joel Parker's Home, Glasgow

Nicky

His mother bursts into the house like a madwoman, screeching at the top of her lungs. This is my first introduction to Imelda Parker in all her glory. Her high heels rattle off the wood floor as she runs around the living area.

“Joel,” she shrieks. “Joel! It’s your mother. Come and speak to me at once.”

We are still curled around each other upstairs in our huge king-size bed.

Joel rolls his eyes at me and untangles his legs from mine.

I pout at him. He warned me this would happen, that she would appear, guns blazing, when she found out.

He’s taken a week off work to move me in and help me get settled, feigning illness.

As I watch from the safety of the covers, he pulls on his boxers and wanders out into the upper hall.

Looking up at my reflection, I give a dirty smile to the mirror suspended above the bed.

Memories of his cute ass pumping me senseless last night flutter through my mind.

That was an excellent addition to the bedroom this week, because now I get to see him from all angles. Every perfect feature.

“Mother,” he says, his voice level, but the rigid set of his shoulders gives him away. Tension crackles off him like static. “The key I gave you was for emergencies only. What are you doing here?”

“This is a fucking emergency,” she screeches. “Have you lost your mind, Joel? Moving a girl you barely know into your home.”

“It’s none of your business.” His terse voice responds. “You need to leave.”

“None of my business?” she echoes, enraged. “You’re my son, and it’s my job to protect you from impulsive decisions, from gold diggers, and from yourself!”

He exhales slowly, clearly wrestling the urge to snap. “I’m not a teenager anymore, Mother.”

“You’re acting like one.”

“I said leave,” he replies, colder. “I’ll speak to you later. Right now, I want to get back to my girlfriend.”

“What about Eliza?” she barks.

Silence.

My skin prickles. Eliza? Who the fuck is Eliza?

Joel mentioned no one. My stomach churns. Am I a rebound? A side piece? The other woman? Of course, there is a woman. A proper woman. Men like Joel don’t end up with girls like me. Not for keeps. I’m a novelty. A story to tell his sons when he grows old.

A wild tale to enjoy before returning to the life carved out for him, and a wife who fits the mold. Eliza. I bet she’s perfect, polished even. The kind of woman who’s never worn handcuffs, unless it’s for fun.

“Joel,” she shrieks again. “What about Eliza? You’re getting married.”

The words punch straight through my heart. Engaged. He’s engaged.

It’s like the floor opens up beneath me. One minute I’m floating, and the next I’m plummeting hard and fast. Engaged. The proof I’m a placeholder hits me square between the eyes. My mother was right.

Tears sting at the unexpected turn of events. How stupid could I be to think that within a week, I could meet a man, move in with him, and he’d be my true love? My soul mate. My future.

I creep toward the landing. His body is rigid, powerful fingers wrapped around the banister looking down to his mother on the stairs.

His jaw ticks. He looks ready to murder someone.

The moment our gazes meet, something shifts.

Sadness flickers across his face, and he gives me a soft shake of the head.

I want nothing more than to believe him, but how can I when the name Eliza blares in my ears? Raging like an alarm. Am I merely a mistake to be regretted when reality strikes? A walking disaster that tore apart his curated life on impulse?

“Mother,” he growls. His voice controlled but deadly. “Eliza and I are finished. We have been for weeks. The wedding won’t be happening. You know that.”

She tries to interrupt him, but he talks over her. “I’m sorry our relationship breaking down has caused issues between our families, but you and I both know it was for show. There was no love. There never was. Now leave.”

He turns away from her, eyes landing on me again. “Because of your dramatics, I need to go and explain your outburst to Nicky and why you tried to blow up my life.”

“Nicky,” she hisses, as if tasting something foul. “Is that the name of the little tart leading you around by the balls?”

I’m humiliated. Furious. And somehow, still aching for him. His mother never even saw me, and she made up her mind. I’m nothing but a problem. A mistake he’s making with his dick. And the worst part is, a piece of me believes her. I retreat back to bed, not knowing what else to do.

The sound of the front door slamming closed signals she’s left. Joel wanders back into the bedroom. He sits down beside me, he looks calm on the outside, but no doubt is storming within. I sit on the bed, twisting a stray piece of hair between my fingers to stop my hands shaking.

“Who’s Eliza?” I ask.

“Arranged marriages are still going strong, even in modern society,” he explains, his tone solemn. “Eliza and I were teenagers when we were first introduced. Our parents hoped the match would happen naturally.”

My eyes widen as I listen. This is like being in the Twilight Zone, an alternate universe to the one I grew up in.

“She’s beautiful,” he says, and my heart constricts. “Smart, too. She’s studied to become a human-rights lawyer, much to her family’s disgust.”

Of course, she is beautiful and smart. The kind of girl who never has a prison record to explain or worry about which fork to use at a meal. She’s everything I’m not, everything I can’t be. Suddenly, I feel like a square peg in a round hole.

A chuckle escapes him, but his hand rises to his curls and swipes through them nervously. Sweat beads on his forehead. He doesn’t want to be having this conversation with me.

“We were allowed to be friends until she turned twenty-one. Eliza is two years younger than me. We were nothing more than friends at that point.” He takes a deep breath. “Then, on her twenty-first birthday, our parents told us they wished us to marry. It was a shock to us both.”

Unsure what to say, I stay mute. He stretches for my hand, but I move it out of his reach. Doubt starts to flit through my mind as he continues. Those beautiful green eyes stay fixed on the floor.

I want to believe every damn word he says. But deep down, the part of me that’s spent ten years locked away can’t trust anything that looks this good.

“We told them no. It didn’t go down well.

Her father was furious with her and threatened to cut her out of the family.

Reginald Worth is used to getting what he wants.

What we didn’t know was that our fathers had already struck a deal on the paperwork, the inheritance, and the like.

Eliza’s brother can’t be trusted with the family funds.

He’s squandered plenty over the years. Her parents have no suitable male heir. ”

My eyebrows shoot up as the pieces of the puzzle click into place.

“They wanted you to become head of their family?” I ask.

“I wouldn’t say wanted me to, but they were short of options. Mr. Worth doesn’t get on with his extended family. Bitter feuds run deep. Choosing who his daughter would marry was the next best thing, and as my family is wealthy, he felt we wouldn’t use them as a cash cow.”

“What were your parents’ thoughts on it?”

He shrugs and his lip curls as if tasting something bitter.

“My parents felt it was a positive financial arrangement. It would further secure the Parker fortune. We were backed into a corner, Eliza and me. We agreed to try to have a relationship but stood our ground on marriage. To buy us some time, we told them we needed five years to learn about each other and focus on our careers.”

“And both families agreed?” I ask, surprised.

“Yes and no.” A sad smile crosses his lips. “They agreed to us being wed within five years.”

So that’s what I am, a detour on his route to the altar.

A final stop off. I screw up my face, trying to work out the math.

“What age are you?” It seems crazy I haven’t asked him this before.

We’ve been sharing a bed for over a week.

With his cool confidence and charm, I’d assumed he was older, in his early thirties.

“Twenty-eight.”.

“You were meant to be getting married this year?” His face falls as he pushes the next words past his lips.

“Tomorrow,” he mumbles. “I was meant to be getting married tomorrow at the Glasgow Cathedral.”

My jaw drops as I look at him, stunned into silence. Tomorrow. Not next month. Not next year. Tomorrow. I thought I’d left my panic attacks in the prison yard, but right now, every breath I take tastes of betrayal.

“Joel, when did you cancel the wedding?” My heart feels as if it will explode any minute, and my hands shake of their own accord. “Joel,” I prompt.

“Six weeks ago,” he says, and I relax slightly. “It’s not so much canceled as postponed. Eliza and I decided we needed to be sure. It’s an enormous commitment.” Six weeks. Better than tomorrow, but not great. Still, postponed isn’t exactly canceled, is it?

“No shit, Sherlock,” I spit out. “So, you’re still together?” My mind reels at the realization. I will not be the other woman. Sickness bubbles in my throat as I wait for his answer.

He shakes his head. “No, we’ve taken a break.

But she wants to go through with the wedding.

I didn’t realize she’d developed real feelings for me.

We always agreed that if we went ahead with the marriage, we would be free to pursue our own relationships.

Our marriage would be purely transactional.

Three months ago, she told me that she wanted us to be exclusive, she loved me, and wanted a real marriage. I can’t give her that.”

Taken a break . The phrase makes me uneasy. It’s a soft landing with unfinished business, rather than the clean break I hoped to hear.

“If you don’t marry her, what happens?”

“Our families will be at financial war. Every business deal and every conversation will be focused on ruining each other. My parents will probably disown me.”

Sitting on the side of the bed with his head in his hands, he looks miserable.

In my world, parents disown you for going to prison. In his, they disown you for falling in love with the wrong person. The stakes are just dressed differently.

My heart breaks, and I wrap him in my arms. We may have only been together a matter of days, but I love this man. It kills me to see him so distressed.

“I told my mother last week I won’t be marrying Eliza. Being shackled to a marriage where one partner is invested and the other is merely there because they must be isn’t for me.”

“What did she say?” I whisper, dreading the answer.

“She told me to be at the church tomorrow at eleven. They’ll all be there, and if I’m not there, then they will come and drag me to the altar. It was my duty as a Parker to marry her.”

My eyes hold his for a moment—they are filled with pain for him and his family.

“The afternoon we met was the day I told my mother. I had to go to a meeting so I wouldn’t drink.

And then I met you, and it felt like fate.

I’d never been so attracted to anyone before.

You got me, and I couldn’t let you go.” He strokes my face softly as he speaks, willing me to believe him.

“No wonder your mother was acting like a lunatic,” I say quietly. “Well, I suppose it would be best for us to get out of town before tomorrow then.”

His eyes widen as he looks at me. “You’re not leaving me? I drop this bombshell on you, and you want to run away together.”

I could run. The sane thing to do would be to protect my heart and walk away before this gets more complicated. But then I look at him, the man who has accepted my dark past without flinching, and I know I’m already in too deep.

“Mr. Parker, may I remind you, you’ve moved a woman convicted of manslaughter into your home within days of meeting her.

Who you met through an alcohol dependency meeting, I may add.

We both have complex stories to tell, but I know one thing.

” I smile sexily at him and run my hand over his inner thigh.

I watch as his cock hardens instantly beneath his boxers.

“You’re the best fuck I’ve ever had, and I’m not letting you go without a fight. ”