Page 6 of Vicious Arrangement (Alpha Billionaire Daddies #7)

Chapter Six

NOAH

I brush the guilt of being late aside. There’s nothing I can do about it now, and she’s looking at me like I’m both her favorite pin-up and a monster from the depths of some lagoon.

She’s pretty, and I think I like that untamed look to her hair more than this sleeker version, but that might just be because untamed brings hints of sex with it, something I’m all for.

If I have to marry her, I’ll take the sex. Hot as hell, thanks.

But I wait until the drinks arrive, not bothering with the menu yet, even though I’m hungry and she’s got to be, considering how late I ended up being.

I shove that away. I’m not in the mood for guilt. Her? Yeah, I could definitely be in the mood for her.

Just as long as I don’t stray too far off my path for the night.

She pushes her glass to the side as I take a swallow from mine. I know the rye whiskey. It’s small batch craft, and expensive. I almost smile.

The lady has balls. She sat for over two hours and ordered the most expensive whiskey this place has. And I’m willing to bet that if she left, I’d have received the bill.

I drop my gaze to her cleavage. Nice fucking tits.

“Eyes up here,” she snaps. Aria glares as she leans forward. “You didn’t seem surprised it was me.”

“The pretty girl who wanted to give me a public hand job? Ecstatic is the word.”

She ignores my gutter-level flirt. “Did you know who I was at that bar? Was running into me deliberate?”

I shrug. “Sure.” I let the sarcasm soak my words. “I always have deliberate run-ins that end with my dick being played with in the middle of a crowded bar and ruined shoes.”

Her cheeks streak red.

“I’m being serious,” she says. “Did you know?”

“No,” I say, taking another swallow of my Manhattan. “That was… fate, or something, and the spillage was all you.” I grin. “I managed not to spill. That’s some control, right there.”

Her eyes turn to slits of blue fire.

I sigh. “I did look you up, though, later.”

Aria rears back. “What does that mean?”

“We clicked. I was curious.”

“So… you… what? Decided we clicked and you stalked me online and then decided you liked what you saw and thought you’d force me into marriage?”

“Everyone looks up people they meet and like, or go on dates with. It’s a thing. I’m rich. Can’t be too careful.”

“You’re rich? That’s your excuse? So you didn’t orchestrate everything because of that meeting?”

I shrug again and sip my cocktail. “I’m sure you’ve already drawn your own conclusions. Or your grandfather.”

“I just don’t understand. You’re not pitching anything, you… you tell Gramps this needs to happen.” She frowns. “What are you, that bad with girls you resort to threats and blackmail? If you wanted to ask me out, you could have. I would’ve said yes.”

What the fuck do I say? I thought she was hot. I’d have taken her home and fucked her without even knowing about Grandfather’s charming will stipulation. How would she have reacted to that?

I know how I would have. “Should we order?” I flick a glance at the menu and turn it down on its face, bringing the waitress back. “No?” Aria’s face is apoplectic, so I order another drink.

She would have said yes.

But I don’t date, I have sex, flings, trysts.

Aria toys with her knife. “See, I don’t think this is about you being a weirdo?—”

“Thanks,” I say drily.

“—who thinks this is the only way to get a date. I think you’re some kind of arrogant asshole rich fuck who has some other motive behind it. And it’s not destroying Gramps’ business. It’s not me. It’s something else. So I want to know what your motive is. Why are you forcing me to marry you?”

“Maybe I fell head over heels, and this arrogant asshole rich fuck likes to just cut to the chase and take what he wants.”

She nods. “Could be. But I figure with your extreme tardiness you’re up there in confidence.”

The woman’s got brains, backbone, and fire. It draws me to her more, on a different level than the chemistry. Normally, something like that would make me second guess this idiotic thing I’m doing.

But I have to either crumble and go through with the merger, or do this.

Oscar didn’t want me to marry her. He wanted to force me to complete the merger.

So I’m going to squash the merger dead and marry this fucking woman.

“My reasons for wanting to marry you aren’t your concern,” I say.

Aria’s eyebrows shoot up. “You’re kidding, right? Of course they are.”

“This marriage has to hold up under scrutiny. It means we’ve had a whirlwind romance and can’t keep our hands to ourselves. Our personal… merger… needed to happen because of love.”

The word tastes bitter in my mouth.

“Hold up?”

“Yes. You’ll move in with me?—”

“I have a job.”

I ignore her. “Don’t worry, you’ll be well taken care of, trust me.”

“Trust you? I don’t think so.”

I put a pin in that as the waitress comes over.

“We’re ready to order.” Aria’s eyes flash pure fire.

“We’ll have the thick house cured bacon with salad and the smoky egg sauce, the celery soup with hazelnut pesto, the slow-cooked lamb shank, and the mushroom risotto.

” I offer the waitress my most dazzling smile.

“And the Montepulciano. Sharing plates.”

The waitress hesitates, looks at Aria, but she just nods.

The moment the girl goes, Aria leans in. “I can order for myself.”

“I’m sure you can.”

“And what do you mean, be taken care of?”

“Well taken care of.”

A blush rises up her throat to her cheeks, and I could win money on where her thoughts just went. “If I do agree to this and right now the jury’s out, just because we’re married doesn’t mean I’m going to sleep with you.”

I smirk. “Are you sure? I’ve got it on good authority that I’m very hard to resist. You’re attracted to me, I’ll give you a week, max, before you come begging for a taste of me.”

But Aria doesn’t play the way I figured. Instead of fighting back and turning this into foreplay, she crosses her arms and stares me down.

“There won’t be a marriage at all,” she says, “unless you’re upfront with me. What are you getting out of this? It’s not me, we both know that. So, what is it?”

“What it is, is none of your business?—”

“But it is.” She puts her hands on the table. “Because I’m not marrying you if you don’t tell me.”

“You clearly love your grandfather,” I say. “Or he’s blackmailing you into this. Whichever. It doesn’t matter because I’m the one holding all the fucking cards, all the power. You say no, Sanderson Inc. is no more.”

Aria grabs her drink and takes a sip as the sommelier comes up with the wine. I taste it. “It’s fine.”

After he’s poured and left, I stare her down. “I can ruin your grandfather’s company” —I snap my fingers— “just like that.”

But she’s definitely smarter than she looks. Her sweet smile is full of poison. “I’m pretty sure I can fuck you over just as hard by not marrying you.”

And she’s right, she can. Damn it. I don’t like vulnerabilities, and I don’t like women who call me out on things, who are too fucking smart for their own good.

She should’ve been dazzled, not just by me, but by the offer, the money. Sanderson is a speck, Templeton’s a giant. But she’s hit the nail on the head.

Maybe I should have apologized for being late properly, or called her… I have her number. But I honestly got caught up in work, and then because Asher had one of those rare days where he couldn’t be home, some emergency, somewhere, I don’t do the shit he does, so I don’t really ask. IT, that’s it.

But I worked late, and then collected Joshy from daycare—and we spent time until Asher got home.

She stayed, though, which tells me she wants to do this. Will do it. Probably for her grandfather.

Aria doesn’t touch her wine, doesn’t touch the starters when they land on the table, and finally, I sigh.

“I need this,” I say. “I need to marry you to gain control of my inheritance and my grandfather’s company.”

“Why me?” She frowns. “I’m no one, and there must be plenty of women who’d happily marry you for your status and money.”

Annoyance flares bright, and I savagely cut a piece of the bacon and spear some green leaves. It cuts like butter, so it’s not that satisfying to attack it. And… it tastes incredible, melting, crisp edged, the smoky tomato and egg sauce insane.

She keeps staring. I put down the fork. “My grandfather specified it be you.”

“Me what?”

“That I marry. And I don’t fucking know why.”

Aria slow claps, which pisses me off. “Thanks for the honesty—finally. I don’t understand it, but fine, I’ll do it.” She picks up her spoon and tries the soup.

“Good,” I say, “we’ll get this set up and go ahead?—”

“One more thing.” She takes a sip of wine. “I’ll agree to this on one condition, that Angus is welcome at your place, too.”

Her boyfriend? “Angus? Who the fuck is Angus?”

“My dog. Don’t worry, you won’t even know he’s there.”

I’m not a dog person, I’m not a pet person. Sometimes I wonder if I’m just an Asher and Josh person. I know people like me, but I don’t tend to keep many friends. Too many people like the money over anything genuine.

“Okay, fine.” I finish my bowl of soup and push it away. “We need to meet tomorrow in the a.m. to get a license,” I say, “and then I’ve scheduled at ten a.m. on Thursday?—”

“That’s two days’ time. I’m working?—”

“Change it.”

“I’m a nurse.”

I don’t care. “Change it. I’ll come in and talk to them. It’s your wedding, tell them that.”

She grits her teeth and says, “Fine. I can swap.”

“The wedding will be back at City Hall. And don’t be late.”

“You’re the one with time management issues, not me.”

I’m glad when the entrées come, and I can’t help thinking that maybe she’s a real force to be reckoned with.

Like nothing I’ve ever met before.