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

Chapter Seven

ARIA

“Well,” I say, shoving a hand into the back pocket of my jeans, trying to control the jagged, wild beat of my heart as the morning sun hits Noah’s hair when he gets out of a black car and, perfectly dressed in a suit of cobalt, runs up the steps to me, “you’re not always late.”

“No,” he says, flipping his wrist to look at his black Patek Phillippe watch, like I’m encroaching on his time. “I’m not. Can we get this over and done with? Do you have your papers?”

I tap my bag. “Birth certificate, criminal record, and past husbands all in here.”

“Droll.”

But while he doesn’t smile, those dark chocolate eyes are warm with a sparking humor in them.

I hate myself for it, I really do, but I want to see that dimple appear in his left cheek.

He just powers ahead into the monolith of City Hall, leaving me to hurry behind him. I don’t come to Lower Manhattan often, but this is one reason I never thought I’d be visiting for—a marriage license.

Suddenly, Noah stops and turns, pulling me against him, engulfing me in that pepper, bergamot and wood. The sensual scent is still evocative in this unromantic place and he slides a hand into my ponytail and brings his mouth in close. “Ready?”

I can’t make words, and he smiles slowly, that dimple appearing, making my knees go weak, everything in uproar inside of me. Then he lets me go, pulling his hand from my hair, taking the elastic with it.

“I like your hair down. I like it with a little more curl.”

“And I like you not at all.”

He laughs. “Now you look like a bride to be who’s flustered. Good.”

With that, he turns, taking my hair band and leaving me with nothing else to do but fume and follow.

“Asshole.”

I realize later that morning that I don’t know where he lives. On a scale of romantic to absolute strangers, the whole affair after we got the license was strangers in different continents. He told me don’t be late and got back in his—the back seat, and disappeared.

“Asshole,” I mutter to Angus, who keeps pace with me along the path on the West Side Highway running path, “doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

Angus looks up at me and barks, putting on some more speed. I get his point. Speed up and burn off some of the anger.

“And,” I say, dodging a cyclist heading on the wrong side, the wrong way, “I bet if I told him I had to sell my soul to do three double shifts for Mia, at her choosing, just to get out of work to make a wedding I do not want, he wouldn’t care.”

Angus barks again.

“Exactly. Asshole.”

My phone buzzes, interrupting the music that’s playing in my ear, and I hit answer.

“Where are you?” Katie demands.

“I’m on the greenway. Shouldn’t you be at work?”

“Took the day off. And why are you playing golf?”

Angus shoots me a look, and I mouth I know at him. “Not on a golf course, I’m running. You know, exercise. On the Hudson River Greenway, the running path?”

“Boring.” She huffs. “Where on it?”

“I’m running past Chelsea?—”

“Good. I’ll meet you at yours. We’re going shopping.” And she hangs up.

Angus and I finish our run, then make our way back home.

When I get there, Katie’s hanging out outside my walk up. She ignores me and holds open her arms for Angus, who basically jumps up on her and tries to lick her to death.

“Down, Angus.” He’s a good dog and tries with manners, but sometimes his rambunctiousness gets the better of him, and he likes to show his love.

By sometimes, I mean as often as he can. “Why are we going shopping?” I ask.

She rolls her eyes. “To get a wedding dress.”

“It’s tomorrow, and I think I’m just going to wear a white top and pants. I have them. I think.”

I open the door, and we traipse in, up to the fourth floor, and I unlock the door.

Angus races in, looks wildly around, spies his water dish, and drinks it clean. Then he whines and looks at Katie, who melts. She gets his bowl and refills it. At his second whine, she opens the jar of treats and feeds him a handful.

“Katie,” I say, “we don’t want him fat.”

“He’s a baby, aren’t you, Angus?”

Angus presses against her, rolling his eyes up in agreement.

I leave them to it and shower and change. Jeans and a top and a lavender hoodie. I almost leave my hair down but I catch my reflection and slick it back.

Screw Mr. Hotness Noah, anyway. Hair up’s more practical. When I’m ready—because I know there’s no way I’m getting out of this—I ask, “Where are we going?”

“I have a list,” she says excitedly, “and this is on me. I earn way more than you, and we can always make him pay me back.”

“So glad you’ve got it all sorted,” I say with a healthy serving of sarcasm.

She ignores me. “There are so many hot and gorgeous wedding dress shops. We don’t have time for bespoke, but a good one will take it in. Something breathtaking, sexy, romantic.”

“No way,” I snort. “Simple. We’ll just get something cheap and white.”

“But—”

“I told you,” I say, picking up my bag as I go and putting food in Angus’s dish. Katie’s unclipped his leash, and he’s suddenly at his food bowl, face planted in it. “Noah made it clear he wants this thing done with as little fuss as possible.”

She sighs. “This ‘thing’ might be the only wedding you’ll ever have—since you told me you’re never getting married—so I’ll be damned if you’re going to show up in that.”

Katie waves a hand over my outfit.

“What’s wrong with this?”

“Jeans? Tee? No.”

“I said white shirt and pants.”

“Uh-uh.” She looks at her phone. “The Uber’s here!”

“Uber? We can just go to Macy’s or?—”

“Do not rob me of my only chance of being a bridesmaid,” Katie whines.

“Besides, if you have to go through with this whole marriage thing, at least have some fun with it while you can. We’ll dress up, I’ll book us in for hair and makeup, and make Noah realize how fucking lucky he is to be marrying you. ”

I lock up, and we head down the stairs. “If I agree, will you leave me alone?”

“Probably not.”

I laugh and groan at the same time.

In the back of the Uber, Katie looks at her phone. “We need some dirt, something for you to get an upper hand. What about your demands? The prenup?”

I swallow. “I didn’t make any, and he didn’t ask for one.”

She slides me a look. “Interesting…”

“Not really. If I try to take him for a ride, he’ll crush Gramps. He knows I’m not allowing that. And… I wouldn’t.”

“You’re too nice, that’s your problem.” Then she squeals. “Oh my god, he’s a real fuck boy. Look at all the women he’s been photographed with.”

I push her phone away. I don’t want to look at that.”

“No secret babies, but a couple of scandals with engaged girls, but while he’s always no comment, others say… ‘Noah ended it the moment he found out.’ ” Then she laughs. “Of course, Noah doesn’t usually date more than once, unless they’re exceptionally hot or good in bed.”

“Katie.”

But she’s on a roll. “Not one of these women regret it, either. No respect.”

Or he’s good at being a prime fuck boy. And the man, as much as I hate it, has charm. He’s arrogant, but he’s got charm.

“He’s six-four, likes to party and… oh, my, these social page pics don’t do him justice.” She waves her phone in front of my face. It’s a close-up. He’s in a suit, but that dimple is there, and his sensuous mouth in a half-smile and he’s looking to the left of the camera.

“Yeah, I know. He’s… cute.”

“He’s fucking hot.” Katie frowns. “Why don’t I remember him?”

“Because you were minutes away from hurling.”

“Uncool,” she says with a laugh, but then she studies the picture. “He’s gorgeous, and this is the nicest photo. The rest, along with his take-no-responsibility for whatever babe I’m sticking it in attitude really tells me he’s an arrogant asshole.”

“You don’t say.”

“Watch yourself around this guy.” She flicks me a look. “Don’t go falling in love with him. A man like him won’t just break your heart, he’ll shatter it.”

“I don’t have any intentions of falling in love, with him or anyone. Angus and my job are more than enough.”

“And me.”

I laugh. “And you.”

“But you’ll be living with him.”

“Like roommates. And lots of marriages aren’t about love. There’s a world full of arranged marriages out there. I’m betting a lot of those are built on mutual understanding and respect rather than love and lust.”

“But Ari… what if?—”

“I think he’ll be relieved with me leaving him alone as I will be with him doing the same for me. I’m sure of it.”

We hit boutiques in Brooklyn and Long Island City in Queens—where a new little wedding dress shop has popped up and those who know go. And we hit Manhattan, too.

In the West Village, I’m in the dressing room, trying on yet another dress. This one is simple, and as I hold it, I look in the mirror at the half-smile on my face and my pink cheeks.

I’m having fun.

And yes, a part of me is looking forward to seeing the look on Noah’s face when I’m all dressed up.

I pull on the dress.

Just because I don’t plan on falling in love with the guy, doesn’t mean I don’t want to feel good about myself. A little bit.

“You dressed?” Katie calls.

“Yes.”

She pulls back the curtain and gasps. “Bingo.”