Bride Wanted Page 2

  “Don’t go in there and strip,” she said. “And don’t go anywhere and strip, for that matter. Seriously, I can get you something much better.”

  I half smiled at her, dubiously. It wasn’t that I wanted to be a stripper. It was just a matter of necessity.

  “Okay,” I told her, hoping I wasn’t making the wrong decision. Those bank fees were increasing in number every day, and I knew there had to be good, fast money to be made within the gold-painted doors of that strip club. “I’ll hold out for a little while.”

  Chapter 3

  Sam

  My head was still hot. Benson’s great idea was for me to be set up with some kind of match making service for billionaires, run by the famed Eliza Rousseau. But so far, the plan wasn’t working out as well as Benson thought it would, and I was getting antsy.

  I called Eliza, and even went by to tell her what I wanted. But she didn’t have anything for me… yet. She said she’d find someone quickly for me. But I was already running out of time. I should have known better than to trust that Benson’s idea was any good. He was king of overpromising and underdelivering.

  Pulling up into my driveway, I parked my Maserati and grabbed my cane. I caught a glimpse of its shine against the cherry oak body and admired it for a second. It was pretty to look at. Too bad I actually had to fucking use it.

  I managed to drag myself out of the car with a few grunts. Day by day my legs were gaining more strength. Eventually, I was hoping I could soon ditch this shitty cane and walk on my own like I used to.

  I limped up to the door, a small ache radiating from my hips. I hobbled up to my double doors and opened them. Willow said that she would’ve preferred I get a lighter, simpler door, but I was always the kind of man who went for the best.

  I slipped inside and gained a little speed to my bedroom— well, to the bathroom that was off my master bedroom. Rushing into the bathroom with an exaggerated limp, I turned on the hot water and poured some Epsom salt into the jacuzzi.

  The water filled up, and I watched it slowly creep up near the water jets. Throwing my jacket off, I got undressed and dipped myself into the hot water, hissing at the tremor of my nerves that relished in the heat.

  “God, that’s good.” The only thing better than this was probably sex.

  If I would ever be fortunate enough to experience that again…

  The heat massaged my body along with the gentle shots of water from the water jets. Today was almost unbearable. Benson just threw me into a pile of steaming shit, and now that two hundred million dollar deal that was a beacon of popularity gone viral might be nothing but a puff of dust.

  Even if Eliza called. A fake wife would only be a temporary fix to a permanent problem—

  Suddenly, I heard the buzz of someone ringing the security monitor button outside.

  “Huh?” I grabbed the waterproof tablet that sat by the side of the jacuzzi and looked at my camera. It was Mr. Johnston, from the bank my company uses.

  “Mr. Johnston,” I said, through the voice feature of my security network. It helped not having to run to the door. Especially since running wasn’t an option for me. “What can I do for you?”

  “Mr. Reign, we need to speak. This is urgent. Very urgent!” he hushed into the speaker.

  “Give me five,” I said, using my arms to propel me out the bath.

  Grabbing my robe and cane, I went to the front door and let Mr. Johnston in.

  “What’s wrong, Mr. Johnston?” I asked him. I hurried to add, “Please excuse my state of dress. I take frequent baths to help my hip and leg—”

  But he wasn’t listening. He zoomed inside, huffing and puffing, pacing around and slapping a hand on his forehead.

  “Mr. Reign. Do you know what you did?!” he asked, his voice cracking.

  “Mr. Johnston, you’re making me nervous. Spit it out!”

  “You lied!” he yelled. “You lied, and the bank is demanding the money they loaned you back!” he said, throwing his arms in the air. His face even shook with worry and irritation.

  “Lied? Loan? What loan?!” I asked, limping towards him.

  His eyes widened and he took a few shaky steps back. “You know nothing about a loan for ten million dollars? For your company? You and Benson’s names are both on there!”

  Shit.

  I prayed to God that this wasn’t another Benson move. But I wasn’t willing to see him in jail… not now at least. Not until I figured out what the fuck was going on and what part he had played in it.

  “Oh! Yeah, I remember that. What about it again?”

  “The bank looked into your application during a random audit. Some things didn’t line up during deeper inspection. When banks get scared, they demand their money back!” He calmed down and rubbed his neck.

  “I spoke up for you, so the bank won’t do anything drastic. But they want the money or else this will get messy!” he said in a calmer tone, pulling at his brown, tight-fitting blazer.

  “Fine.” I motioned to the door, “Now, I do need my rest. I’ll be in touch in a day or two.” After I strangle someone…

  Mr. Johnston left, but not without continuing to mumble that I’d better take care of it, and soon. Relieved once he was finally gone, I closed the door behind him.

  I shifted my weight from one leg to another, feeling a bit relieved in the hips from the small soak in salt.

  I had Benson on speed dial and called him.

  “Hey, Sam, did Eliza—”

  “Benson, what the actual fuck?! Fraud? You’ve gone way over the goddamn line!” I yelled at the top of my lungs. If only my legs were strong enough, I’d run over to his house and hit him.

  “Woah, Sam, what’s going—”

  “The bank just visited me! What’s this about ten million dollars? My name is on that?”

  “Oh, God,” he groaned.

  “Yeah, oh God is right, Benson. You’d better be praying to Him hard right now, because He may be the only thing that can get us out of this mess.”

  Silence. “I fucked up. It was to get us going.”

  I sat down on my bed and leaned back. My blood pressure was bound to go through the roof. “They want it back in two weeks. They want ten million dollars back or else it’ll get messy.”

  “Shit,” he hissed.

  “Yes, shit. Shit that you shoveled on us, you ignorant fucking prick. Giving them ten million will ruin us. Look, I know you just wanted to help but—”

  My phone began to ring again. “Look, we’ll talk later. Let me take this call.”

  “Sorry, Sam.”

  I didn’t respond and hung up. The number ringing my phone wasn’t too familiar, but I still answered it anyway. “Hello?”

  “Dear Sam! I have a match for you!” Eliza sang over the phone.

  “A match, this quick?”

  She chuckled. “Yes, I’m good like that.”

  The confidence was booming in her voice.

  A crazy thought entered my mind.

  Maybe I could do this. If this all worked out, then I’d be able to pull through.

  That small glimmer of hope— or maybe it was just temporary insanity from stress—

  made me say, “When do I meet her?”

  “Tomorrow! She’ll be all ready for you. When you come to meet her, then we can hash out more details. But she’s lovely and fits all your desires.”

  “Thanks.”

  “No problem, swing around tomorrow at seven. Oui?”

  “Not a problem. Enjoy your evening, Ms. Rousseau.”

  I hung up and closed my eyes.

  What the hell was I doing?

  I didn’t even know anymore. I only knew that it had something to do with trying to save my business— and maybe myself, too.

  Chapter 4

  Wendy

  Wow, I couldn’t believe it.

  I met Eliza Rousseau of all people today and was even offered to work for her. Now, granted, I knew it all sounded like some weird sort of brothel thing, but she wa
s in the market of finding people love, too— not just sex. I remembered a couple she had brought together. They ended up getting married, and stayed married.

  I sighed. I wasn’t doing this for love, though. And I think Eliza knew from seeing me in the Red Light district that I needed money. And quick. Even though she said she’d call me, and call soon, I knew that would have to come through in order for this to be a done deal. The survival of my family depended on this.

  Sex… optional. But with some men it would be a must. Too bad, I was saving my virginity for that special someone… and if anyone had asked me years ago who that person was, I’d have gladly told them it was a boy named Sam Reign. But no, that didn’t work out.

  And neither did the boyfriend I picked up during my first year of college either. I was nestled in my bed, glancing out the window at the darkening sky, it was night fall now, and I was sitting next to my phone, staring at it as if it were going to come alive and pole dance.

  What if she never calls? I thought aloud.

  Tapping my fingers on my jaw, I looked at the time. It was near dinner time— or, I should say, it was time to eat the small bit of dinner we had, anyway. There was grunting and slight thumping coming down from the hallway and I jumped up to see who it was.

  I opened my bedroom door and peaked out to see my father slowly making his way up the small hall to the kitchen.

  “Damn, I forgot to cook something.”

  Dad was having a hard time walking, so I rushed up behind him and supported him at his side so he could get into the kitchen without having to risk a faceplant onto the floor.

  “There we go, Dad, I got you!” I said, wobbling under his weight.

  “Thanks, Wendy, such a good daughter,” he mumbled.

  Damn, it really did hurt to see Dad this way. And there was no way I could cheer him up either. Unless Eliza called with good news. Maybe a gig that’d give me millions!

  Hah, talk about a daydream. But even a few thousand would help substantially.

  “Here we go, Dad. I’ll get something put together. Are you cold?” I asked, noticing his skin had a slight chill to it.

  “I’m good. Take your time. I just wanted to get out of the bed,” he said, shifting in his chair.

  The kitchen was cramped even though it was an eat in kitchen. I maneuvered around the other chairs and went back down to his room to get his robe. Dad was such a bad liar sometimes.

  “Oh my god, what the hell?!” I hissed, looking at a pile of cash near my father’s bed.

  I hadn’t seen it earlier since it was stashed to the right. But now since I was all the way in his room, I had a nice and clear image of fifty dollar bills piled up against his drawer. On the floor.

  He must have gotten drunk— which he sometimes did, when depressed— and hadn’t realized he had kept this much dough out on the floor. Kneeling down, I scooped up the money and began to count. It was twelve hundred dollars.

  “Well, this is enough to cover rent and a few groceries…”

  I stacked the money nice and neatly and went back into the kitchen area to ask my dad why the hell he hadn’t told me about this before.

  “Dad, what’s up with this?” I asked, holding the money up into the air so he had a good view of what I was talking about.

  “Oh, I won that at the casino. For rent and stuff… Sorry, I forgot to—”

  My anger vanished into thin air and I sat down beside him. Even through his pain and problems he was still trying to hold our little family together. Nice to know I wasn’t alone in that struggle.

  “Thanks, Pops,” I said, rubbing his shoulder. “Let me cook up the rest of that fish.”

  “Take a break and order a pizza for once,” he said, forcing a small smile.

  Oh, Dad… I stared at him, tears threatening to spill out my eyes. Like we have money for take-out.

  The burning in my eyes and the strength it took for me to not let tears spill out of them was immense. I would only make Dad more upset if I cried. There had to be some way—

  Brrrring, brrring.

  I perked up, and sprinted back into my room, leaping for my phone and bouncing onto my bed.

  “Hello?” I said, answering it while still bouncing on my bed.

  “There you are, Dear, I was expecting you to pick up on the first ring,” Eliza said, a small chuckle to her voice. God, it was nice to hear from her.

  “Sorry, I was in the kitchen!”

  “Well, be prepared to be at my establishment tomorrow. I have a date for you. And, it might even be a bit of a lengthy assignment as well.”

  “Lengthy, does that mean…” God, I hated to sound like such a gold digger. “Does that mean more money?”

  “Always,” Eliza said slowly with a hint of deviousness. “But he’s a good man. And you match his requested points to the tee. I’m glad I found you. He comes from a good family.”

  “Really?” That made the twinge in my gut settle down.

  Thank goodness. I thought I was going to have to put up with one of those weird rich men that were into extremely kinky stuff that probably didn’t always feel so good.

  I was willing. But afraid.

  “Yes, really. Be here tomorrow by five o’clock. We’ll handle the clothing and makeup.”

  My face felt like it began to sparkle. No one had ever given me a makeover before.

  “Wow, okay! I’ll be there. Early too.”

  Eliza chuckled and gave me the address. Phew. Right on time. Rent was taken care of and now it looked like other things were going to be taken care of as well.

  I hung up after wishing her a good night and danced back into the kitchen.

  “Hey, how about we order some good Chinese food, Dad?”

  “Sure. You seem happy. Was that a new boyfriend of yours on the phone?”

  “Pfft, please, Dad. You know I’m beyond that—”

  Bang, bang, bang.

  My dad cocked an eyebrow and got up. That banging sounded like a threat.

  I went to the door, but Dad gently pushed me to the side so he could see who it was banging on our door.

  “Wendy! Come on, answer the damn door,” my ex-boyfriend demanded.

  I slapped my forehead and drew my hand down my face. Gross. It was him. Speak of the damn devil.

  Dad opened the door.

  “Dad?”

  My ex, Daniel, saw my dad and backed up. My dad didn’t look too pleased to see him. I could bet that the bruises he saw on me once flashed through his mind, fueling a dormant rage he held for Daniel ever since that day…

  “Get away from my door,” my father growled.

  Daniel looked over and saw me behind him. “Wendy—”

  My Dad lunged at him and picked his body up, throwing him down the hall of our building. Daniel’s body hit the cement floor with a thud and a loud pop. Ugh, that was probably the shoulder.

  “Ooohh,” I groaned. “Nice one, Dad.”

  Daniel picked himself up off the ground and scowled at my father. “I’ll be back,” he coughed, limping away.

  “Come on, Wendy, let’s order some food,” my Dad said, yawning.

  With his shoulders slumped over, he trudged back into the apartment.

  Just for a second, I saw my old father. The one that used to be happy and full of life, and strong! Ready to defend his daughter. I had had my Dad back, but only for a second. That lit a fire in me. If I could get things more stable financially, maybe Dad wouldn’t be so depressed, then there could be a shot of seeing my Dad again. The real, non-depressed him.

  This gig that Eliza was setting me up for better work out. I didn’t care if the guy was amazing, average, or awful. I just needed the money. It was my only hope.

  Chapter 5

  Sam

  I couldn’t believe I was actually going to go through with this. I stared at myself in my large mirror, trying to make sure like I wasn’t looking shabby, or trying too hard.

  Benson was sitting in a sofa chair in my room, legs crossed, scra
tching his chin as he studied me.

  “Dude, stop standing like that. Your confidence levels shouldn’t be this low. You know your high balance bank account and good looks will get any girl you want. Seriously, I don’t even know why you’re still single,” Benson boasted, rocking his leg and waving his hand about in a nonchalant way.

  I turned around, balancing on my cane. “Haven’t you seen the limp? Plus, when it comes to stuff like… getting intimate, I don’t know how a woman might respond to my scars…” I trailed off and looked at myself once more.

  Beyond the good looks was someone who was still a bit broken. I even had this silly thought that there might still be someone out there for me. Too bad I lost the only sweetheart I had had, quite a while ago.

  Wendy Monroe…

  “Sam?! Earth to Sam!” Benson called out louder, slapping me on the back.

  “Oh? Sorry. Was going down memory lane,” I said, smiling.

  “I knew you went somewhere else. But you gotta have more faith in yourself,” he said, pointing to my chest. “You might even get a real wife out of this,” he suggested.

  I shook my head. “No. She’s only going to be doing this for the money. Whoever she is.”

  I tugged at my jacket once more and limped over to my dresser drawer to get my wallet for the evening.

  “Well, try to have some fun. Good luck on your date—”

  “Meeting,” I corrected.

  “Whatever, I call it date. Now have fun, drive safely.”

  Benson followed me out of the house and jumped into his McLaren, speeding off.

  “Funny, he should take his advice about driving safely…” I said to myself as I watched him peel off.

  In my hand was the keys to a different car today. Even though I didn’t feel up to the task of propping myself up too much, I decided to at least arrive in style with my Ferrari. It was a simple silver matte color, and it was going to give me hell to get in and out of it.

  “Oh well, here it goes,” I said, opening the winged doors and throwing my cane inside. After some careful maneuvering, I was all situated and pressed the button that revved the engine to life.