Dressed in Yellow: BBW Contemporary Romance Page 6

  ***

  They spent the next few days in falling into an after work routine so seamless Aiva had to remind herself they weren’t actually husband and wife. That and her bare ring finger. It… disturbed… her. If he wanted to marry her, why hadn’t he formally proposed? What was he waiting for- or was he one of those men who said they wanted to marry, but were really in no hurry to tie the knot? And he certainly wasn’t pushing her for sex. Oh, they had times when she just knew he struggled to pull away, to leave her. And there were times she damn near begged him to forget whatever code from the old country he thought he was honoring and just take her, damnit. But knowing how traditional he was underneath the flash of his modern clothes and causal personality, she hesitated. Because she didn’t want him to think less of her over something as silly as sex before marriage.

  Friday evening he broke the routine, however, bringing a large white box with him when he came home from work.

  “Another present?” she asked, wiping her hands on a towel. She’d just finished putting fresh rolls in the oven, and was about to start chopping vegetables to add to the curry sauce.

  He stopped sniffing. “What’s that? That’s not-”

  “I know, I know. Don’t tell my mother.” Aiva rolled her eyes. “We can eat food from other cultures, you know. It won’t kill us.”

  “Is this a good time to mention I love Vietnamese?”

  She put a hand on her hip, held titling. “Huh. Really?”

  “Absolutely. If you can figure out how to do a good banh mi, I will put you on my board of directors.”

  Her brow rose. “I wouldn’t hold you to that. Flowers and three employees are enough of a headache for me.”

  “Well, if you change your mind. Here.”

  She took the box, placing it on the table. Pulling off the lid and removing the tissue-

  “Oh. Oh, my. Leon.”

  The gown was a swath of rose gold satin, the skirt long and full, the bodice encrusted with hundreds of tiny beads. Cap sleeves and a collar clearly made it of vintage design, the neckline dipping in a low vee held together with genuine gold bows like brooches.

  She looked at him. “What is this for?”

  “The EarthDay Gala fundraiser. We have seats.”

  Aiva sat down in a chair. Tickets to that Gala- at the low end- were a grand a plate.

  “When?”

  “Tuesday evening.”

  It was just like him. “Leon, don’t you think you should have warned me? I haven’t even had my hair trimmed in weeks.”

  He laughed. “You have plenty of time. It takes more than seventy-two hours to do hair?”

  She glared. “No, but it takes nearly a week to get an appointment with my hairdresser.”

  He shrugged. “Oh, don’t worry about that. She’ll squeeze you in.”

  Aiva didn’t bother to ask how he was so sure. Her hand caressed the gown. She’d never worn something so beautiful in her life.

  “Thank you,” she said softly. “You don’t have to buy me all these presents, you know. Not that I’m complaining.”

  “No, I haven’t noticed you complaining.” He smiled at her, taking her hands to draw her to her feet. Wrapping an arm around her waist, his other hand cupped the back of her neck. Her heart began to beat, the way it always did when he fit his body to hers. “I like buying you things. What’s the point of being rich if I can’t spoil my woman?”

  “Am I?” she asked softly, hands resting on his shoulders.

  His dark brow rose. “Are you what?”

  “Your woman.”

  Green eyes narrowed. “What kind of question is that?”

  “A simple question. You say I’m your woman, but…” Aiva hesitated, her normal bluntness deserting her. And she could feel the heat coloring her cheeks. “We haven’t- I mean-”

  His expression cleared. “Ah. Aiva, don’t ever doubt me.”

  He pulled her closer, guiding her palm down his body until she was touching him, cupping his hardening length. She inhaled. The heat of him, the pulse of life in his organ awoke an answering yearning. Licking her lips, Aiva stroked gently, feeling something dark and primal rise in her.

  Leon swore, hand tightening in her hair. “Damnit, Aiva. That was a bad idea.”

  “Why? Why is it a bad idea? Why can’t we just fuck, Leon?”

  He jerked, taking a full step back. She didn’t know whether to be flattered or offended that she’d made a grown man, a man who headed a corporation with roots in organized crime, flee from her.

  “I made a promise,” he said roughly.

  “What?”

  He closed his eyes, nearly cringing. “Your father made me promise not to… dishonor you before we were wed.”

  “You and my father discussed me and sex?”

  He caught her around the waist as she whirled, heading towards the counter where her house phone rested.

  “Jesus, don’t call him. He’ll know something is up.”

  Aiva twisted in his arms, glaring, not caring that now his cheeks were also tinged with a deeper color.

  “You let me go! I am going to call him, and I’m going to give him a piece of my mind! How dare you to discuss my decisions, my life, behind my back like I’m the prize heifer being passed from one goatherd to the other?”

  “Think you have your nouns mixed up a bit- hey!” He grabbed the hand she swung at him. “If you swing on me again I’ll put you over my knee!”

  For the first time he sounded almost- not quite angry- but serious with her.

  “I don’t play those kinds of games with women,” he said, warning. “No hitting, Aiva- I mean it. If I lost my temper I could hurt you.”

  She swore at him. Leon lifted her onto the counter, the phone clattering to the floor. They were now eye to eye, green and black locked in a heated battle. His hands captured and held her down.

  “Be still, Aiva! When we’re married I’ll fuck you every evening. Take this sweet pussy so many ways, so many times you’ll be begging me for time to breathe.”

  She stilled, shocked by the words, turned on, felling said pussy melt in response.

  “When we are married, Aiva.”

  “That’s so antiquated.”

  “My dear, you don’t have to look your father in the eyes, man to man,” he replied, with finality. “I do.”

  “Then when are we getting married?” she asked, her voice rising in a frustrated squeak.

  He pinned her with a hot, dark glare. “Make me an offer I can’t refuse.”

  Chapter

  7

  Daniel called her before dawn on Monday, right before she went on her daily rounds to the wholesalers for fresh blooms.

  “What?” She answered, not feeling very gracious.

  “Today is the anniversary of the contract, cousin.”

  Aiva froze, hand slipping from the doorknob. She’d wondered why he’d been so... quiet... the last few days.

  “What?” Damn, she should have re-read the thing once all the drama started to kick off. But time seemed to go so fast these days she hadn’t kept up with anything but making one payment at a time.

  “In light of all the activity with the media, Sudano and all the other inconveniences, I feel it is in my best interest to take over now.”

  The pleased amusement in his tone chilled her. His words sounded great on the surface... Aiva struggled to remember the terms of the contract, closing the door to turn and go back into the house. She went straight to the second bedroom she used as a home office, cell between her shoulder and ear, beginning to pull documents out of the file cabinet.

  “So what does that mean?” she asked.

  “It means, cousin, the balance of the loan is due immediately.”

  Aiva sat down, hard. “What?” She knew the balance by heart- that was the one part of the contract she had memorized. “I can’t pay all of that at once.”

  “No? Then I’m afraid you’re in default.” The pleasant tone oozed over her spine. “And that means
, cousin, that I can choose either the business as recompense- or the equivalent in terms of personal service from yourself. So be here at my office by noon, eh?”

  Aiva disconnected, dropping the cell onto the desk and pulling out her contract. She spent a cold ten minutes reading it carefully, then dialed him back.

  “I have forty-eight hours to come up with a lump sum,” she said. “You won’t see me at noon today, cousin.”

  Forcing herself to go through the motions of running her business even though she just wanted to sit at her desk until the bank opened at eight a.m., Aiva continued her trek to the wholesalers, opened the shop, filled orders, helped customers. At eight a.m. exactly she placed a call to the loan officer.

  “I’m afraid you just don’t have enough established credit,” he said. “You’ll need a co-signer or at least another year of history before we can do a mortgage for you.”

  “Aiva, what’s wrong?” Mandira asked, poking her head into the storeroom. Her friend’s brow wrinkled. “You look sick. Are you feeling well?”

  She told Mandira everything, her best friend looking angry by the end of the explanation.

  “Damn, that sucks. And I know you hate being dependent on him-“

  Aiva tugged at her curls, frustrated. “It’s not just that I don’t like being dependent,” she said. “It’s that if you let old country men have an inch, they’ll take a mile. Do you know my mother never wanted to own a restaurant? It wasn’t her dream- it was my father’s. But he talked her into it.”

  Mandira stared at her. “Your mom loves that place.”

  “She does now. Because she has to, because she made herself love it. But what would have happened if she’d been allowed to follow her dream and not my father’s?”

  “It worked out in the end.”

  Aiva sighed. “That’s the problem. She forgot that she didn’t even want to run a restaurant. She forgot her true self.”

  “Or maybe,” Mandira said softly, “she found her true self. Anyway, I hardly think taking a loan from Leon-”

  “What?” Aiva stared at Mandira. “Who said anything about a loan from Leon?”

  Mandira’s unplucked honey brown brow rose slowly. “He’s the man who wants to marry you. And he’s like a quadtrillionaire-“

  “Is that even a word?”

  “-so I think he can afford a measly little loan. It won’t make you dependent on him, Aiva.”

  Her lips tightened. Mandira shoot her head. “Look, Aiva, what’s the alternative? Accept help from your fiancée, or lose your business to your cousin?”

  Aiva swore. She rarely did, but Mandira had a point. As…galling…as it was to ask Leon for help, she really didn’t think he’d be holding it over her head anytime soon. He wasn’t made that way. For one, he already had enough money and people to boss around to prop up his ego- he didn’t need to control Aiva. And secondly, she had a feeling he would be insulted if she didn’t ask him for help. Maybe she could let go of her breath stealing determination to go it alone- just a little. For the greater good of the business, of course. And wouldn’t it be nice not to have to worry for a change.

  Aiva picked up her cell, dialed another number.

  “Aiviana?”

  Leon’s sharp tone came through the line. She stared at her cell a minute, then disconnected. He called back right away, but this wasn’t a conversation she wanted to have over the phone. She wanted him to look her in the eye, to gauge her intentions. Ignoring his next call, she texted him then picked up her purse.

  “Can you hold it down for a few hours?” she asked Mandira.

  “Of course. Aiva-”

  Aiva shook her head, heading out of the shop. “I’ll be back soon. And hopefully with good news.”

  ***

  He started to go looking for her when the text came through.

  :Coming to you:

  So he continued to work, making sure to tell his admin to send Aiva straight up when she arrived. Fortunately, he kept mornings in his schedule clear of conference calls. When she entered he stared at her, stunned as he usually was the first few minutes she came into his presence.

  She wore a full black skirt with pink dancing unicorns and a narrow waistband, her blouse a pink with a sweetheart neckline and wide straps. He realized, then, just how conscious of women’s clothing he’d become in the last several weeks, scrutinizing every inch of her body because it was his only outlet for the raging desire to take her. To bend her over his desk and flip the skirt up over her plump ass, sinking his cock deep into the dusky flesh until she screamed his name. How many times had he come just one breathy plea close to damning his word to her father and spreading her legs wide open before him, exposing her full tits to feast? Too many times. His fist clenched. Patience. Had to have patience.

  Aiva stopped in front of him, red lips frowning, kohl lined eyes staring at him wryly. He smoothed his expression, rounding his desk and placing a benign kiss on her forehead. Her head titled, dark curls falling over her shoulders.

  “Is something wrong?” she asked in the low voice that sent fire straight to his cock.

  “No. I should be asking you that, though.”

  She looked away, mouth tightening. When her eyes met his again, the gleam of cool steel warned him. He wasn’t dealing with Aiva, his lover, he was dealing with the businesswoman, the granddaughter of one of the most notorious hit men in the community.

  “Aiva?”

  “I want you to buy my business from me.”

  He took a mental step back. Aiva, asking for help? “What brought this on?”

  “My contract with Daniel is expired. He’s not exercising the option to renew, but wants the balance paid in full immediately.” She took a deep breath. “I tried to take out a mortgage on my house- but I don’t have the credit built up yet.”

  She could have come to him. But she’d rather place herself in debt to a stranger than accept his help. Fine. If that was the way she wanted it between them, fine. He should be the one she turned to first. He should be allowed to protect and guide his woman. But she shut him out, placing a distance between them that would lead to all kinds of unhappiness in the home if he allowed it. Leon took a moment to push down memories from his childhood, waiting until he knew his voice and expression were neutral to speak.

  “I assume you’ll want to stay on as manager?” he replied, moving away from her to bring his admin on speakerphone. “Candace? Have Johnston in my office after lunch.” The man managed his small business ventures in this particular territory.

  She nodded, watching him.

  “I’ll have the paperwork drawn up by my man for this area,” Leon said. “You’ll have a check in your hand by tomorrow morning.”

  Black eyes lowered to the floor. “Thank you.”

  He shrugged. “Sure. Now...”

  “Of course. I know you’re busy.” She hesitated, hand curling in her skirt, then left without looking at him again.

  ***

  She didn’t hear from him for two days. The perfunctory texts asking if she was okay didn’t count. Aiva left her shop late Wednesday, having pretty much accepted that the burgeoning relationship was over. Somehow, her asking Leon for the loan had either offended or disappointed him. Several times she’d begun to pick up the phone to call him, to clarify exactly what was bothering him- but she wasn’t sure she really wanted the answer. Though she knew she was being a coward she almost preferred the silent breakup to communication that could only end with her feelings hurt. So when the doorbell rang after the early evening news, she glanced up from her bowl of popcorn, frowning. Aiva opened the door, stymied by a tuxedo clad Leon, who stared at her with a kind of astonished irritation on his face.

  He took her arm, pushing her into the house.

  “I had a feeling you were going to pull a stunt like this,” he said. “I should have followed my first mind and had my admin call you.”

  “Uhhh...”

  “What were you thinking, Aiva?”

  H
e stopped dragging her towards her bedroom, swung her around.

  Aiva just stared at him. “I thought you were mad at me.”

  His dark brow rose. “And if I was? I’m not allowed to be mad at you? Do you think being married to you is going to be a cakewalk?”

  She kind of didn’t know whether to feel relief or annoyance. Leon shook his head.

  “Aiva- there will be many times you piss me off. I already know this. If I need a day to chill out, that doesn’t mean I don’t want you. Besides, I could have just been busy.”

  She folded her arms across her chest. “What did you expect me to think?”

  He sighed. “Go on- you have about twenty minutes to get dressed. I don’t like being fashionably late.”

  Aiva took a quick shower, glad she’d already shaved and washed her hair the day before. Her hair usually smelled like flowers anyway- one of the best hazards of working in a flower shop. She put it up in a simple chignon, quickly lotioned her skin, spritzing on her favorite subtle scent, and stepped into a set of beautiful nude lingerie, lacy with exquisite black embroidery. Walking into her bedroom, she realized she didn’t really have any shoes to match the dress and resigned herself to a pair of plain black stilettos, pulling them out of the closet along with the dress.

  “I forgot to give you the shoes,” Leon said, coming into the bedroom.

  Aiva froze, turning to face him fully rather than suffer the embarrassment of trying to find a sheet to cover herself. She wasn’t ashamed of her voluptuous body, and to be fair, he’d been in her room a fair number of times for one reason or another over the last few weeks. Of course, usually with her foreknowledge and when she was fully dressed.

  Dragon green eyes flared, roving over her with an instantaneous hunger. She saw the tic in his jaw, knew he must be clenching his teeth.

  “Pardon me,” he said after a long, tense moment, but didn’t move. He dropped the boxes in his hands as if they were refuse, Aiva jumping from the loud cardboardy crash on the floor.

  Leon stalked towards her. Between one moment and the next she was lifted in his arms, pinned to her bed. The breath whooshing out of her because he’d tossed her, none too gently. Aiva scrambled to sit up but his body covered hers, a knee between her legs, hands on either side of her head.