Undeniably Married (Boston’s Irresistible Billionaires Book 4)
Undeniably Married: Chapter 15

With my hearing aids in, I can hear the elevator door ping from inside the apartment. Like a puppy awaiting its owner, I’m tempted to stand by the door with my tail wagging excitedly. But because I’m more of a man than that, not only will I not pee on the floor, I’ll act indifferent as I stand in front of my TV that’s being fucked with thanks to Stone’s on-demand cable guy. For some reason, when I returned home, the cable was not working.

The front door opens, and Sorel and Serena waltz in each with two large suitcases rolling behind them. Tinsley and Wren likely went to Stone’s place next door, and like the puppy he is, he scrambles off the couch and runs straight over there.

“Way to play it cool, brother.”

He flips me off, and I grin just as my girl comes into view.

“Hey,” I say, trying to be nonchalant. “Everything go okay?” And can you tell me every second of your interaction with Brody?

She doesn’t.

She simply shrugs. “It went well enough. Um.” She eyes the cable guy, and I can tell she doesn’t want to say anything. I can’t exactly ask if I can show her to her room either since, outwardly, she’s my wife and supposed to be sleeping with me.

Serena has a look in her eyes as if she can read my every damn thought. It’s unsettling. “I’m taking your wife out tonight.”

“Awesome,” I reply. “As long as you bring her back home to me, I think that’s great.”

Serena pauses and studies me. I haven’t spent a lot of time with her since she’s been living in Paris. “You do?” Her skepticism is warranted. I ran off and married her sister on a whim, and she doesn’t know me very well other than what she’s heard about me from everyone else.

“Absolutely. I think you should go out and have some fun.”

And she smirks. Again, reading me better than I’d like her to.

“Right then. I promise I’ll bring her home to you.”

“Excellent. I appreciate that. My wife is my world.” Sorel is already down the hall in her new room, which is why I said that aloud. It didn’t take her long to find it either. She headed in that direction and went to the biggest room at the end of the hall, suitcases rolling behind her. Smart girl.

“That so?”

I tilt my head. “Do I strike you as the half-assed type?”

I get a smirk as she swirls her pointer finger in circles through the air in return. “Play on, player.”

She spins on the balls of her feet and follows after her sister, and I feel like I just got a high-five and a you’ve got this from the most important person in Sorel’s world. So that’s something.

The cable guy acts as if he’s not hanging on our every word, but I have zero doubts he’s all over everything. Whatever. As long as he fixes my cable and keeps his phone locked by my front door, I don’t care.

Half an hour later, there’s a knock on my door and an unhappy Stone waltzes in, quickly followed by Tinsley, who is wearing a black cocktail napkin as a dress. I look away immediately. It’s more skin than I’m comfortable seeing on her. Tinsley is more or less a little sister or cousin to me. Our parents are best friends, and we grew up together. All of the Central Square crew did. Central Square was a famous rock band back in the day that was on top of the world for four years before tragedy tore them apart, and they all went their separate ways, doing their own things while remaining impossibly close. When Callan Barrows—drummer turned ER doctor—married Layla Fritz, the Fritz crew came along, and now we’re all connected and close.

Wren is dressed similarly, and now my cable guy doesn’t just take notice, he chokes. On nothing. Likely his tongue, and I shoot him a don’t fucking try it glare.

“My cable box is the only place your eyes should be,” I warn him, and he throws an apologetic hand up over his shoulder and gets back to work.

“They’ve got a car service lined up.” Stone scowls. He isn’t happy with Tinsley dressed like sex on legs, but Tinsley doesn’t care. My props to her. Just as I think that, the door down the hall opens, and after a series of high-pitched clicks and clacks, my wife comes into view wearing a short, tight, pink dress that doesn’t cover much.

I shoot to my feet, and Stone throws me a, see, asshole, smirk.

“Hi,” I say, then inwardly wince because, really? Hi? I rub the back of my head and neck. “Um. You look…” I stop. Beautiful, sexy, stunning, gorgeous, cock-hardening. They all work. “Nice” is what slips out, and I wince again. “You’re going to Stella’s?”

Sorel smiles at me, clicking and clacking some more in her high heels and tiny dress. She’s still a few inches shorter than me, but her curves in this fucking dress are what make men cross deserts and oceans for.

“I am.”

I smirk and grasp her waist because I feel like I can, even though I probably can’t. I bring her left hand up to my lips to kiss her knuckle just below her ring and lean in to whisper into her ear. “So sexy, Mrs. Fritz-Reyes. My wife is fucking gorgeous. A lot of men are intimidated by their awesome, kickass, brilliant, take-charge, money-earning women, but I’m not one of those pathetic bastards. I think it’s hot, not emasculating. Remember that.”

Then, because I’m still pushing luck I shouldn’t be, and frankly, I can no longer resist, I turn my head and kiss her. Just a simple kiss. A peck on the lips. But it’s firm and it has meaning, and I want her to know I’m still so goddamn into her.

“I’ll see you later.” I tell her that like it’s a threat. A promise. It makes her frown ever so slightly, and I’m like a fish out of water here. Women never frown when I kiss them or try to charm their panties off. Not ever. I’m coming on too strong, and I know it, but I don’t know how to slow down now. I’ve never had to backpedal before. Not with anything. How can someone go from having everything they want to it being gone but still within their grasp and not go after it?

It’s torture.

I’m also desperate to know about what happened when she saw Brody and if she likes her room here and if she secretly needs me to kill her ex because he sucks at life. I will. Gladly. Maybe I should just do it and not tell her. Stone will help me get rid of the body, and Vander will cover up anything we miss. We’ll protect Owen because he has Rory, though he’d be there if I asked. That’s how my guys work.

I keep my mouth shut. That’ll have to wait till tomorrow. She’s taking all my control away, yet oddly, I’m not the least bit annoyed she’s flipped my whole world upside down.

Still, that doesn’t mean I’m not going to fight to gain some of it back.

“Behave,” she reprimands with a meaningful look of her own.

Oh, princess, I vow to make you putty in my hands before this is all done.

I grin and wave as the door shuts behind them. Both Stone and I glance at each other like what the fuck do we do now when the sound system kicks on blaring SportsCenter at full volume. It’s loud as hell, and why did I put in my hearing aids?

“We’re going out!” I shout against the pounding bass.

“Out where?!” Stone shouts back.

I pan a hand toward the door. “Where our fucking women are going, douche.”

He hears me and shakes his head. “No way. My little rose will kick my ass if I show up.”

“Or she’ll think it’s sexy.”

Stone pauses, and both he and the TV dude turn to give me an are you fucking with us on that look.

“Guy, if you have to follow her around, she’s getting dick, and it’s not yours,” the guy says. Is he trying to die? I mean, he must be. Stone’s gaze is almost comical. I’m equally unimpressed.

“Thanks for your oh-so-intelligent advice,” I deadpan as the sound finally cuts out. “I’ll take that into consideration along with the advice from guys who have never played football in their lives but know exactly how I should run each and every play.”

Stone laughs. The dude does not.

Instead, he gets defensive. “Sometimes fans know how to do that better than players.”

“Right. I’m sure they do.”

Mr. Defensive isn’t going to listen. He’s gearing up for a fight I have no intention of participating in. I shoot Stone a can we get rid of the cable guy glare. If SportsCenter is on, that means the cable is working again. Job done.

“Thanks for your help. If we need more, I’ll call you, Joe.” Stone starts to guide him to the door.

“But I haven’t fixed the whole problem.”

“You’ve had over an hour. If you can’t fix it at this point, then it must be fucked.” I’m trying to be nice. I’m not saying what I’m actually thinking. Stone ushers the cable guy out, and the moment the door closes behind him, I fall apart.

“Joe?”

“That’s his name.”

I shake my head. “No, it’s not. You brought that dude into my house amid a social media frenzy? There is press lining our sidewalk. Get Vander to check the people you allow into my home next time before you allow them in. No actual cable guy is named Joe, and how do you know he didn’t just plant a camera or a microphone?”

Stone glares plaintively. “Have we really gotten this paranoid? You told me your cable wasn’t working. I brought in the dude who’s fixed mine in the past.” However, he does turn back to the new cable box in question and studies it skeptically. He walks over to it and yanks it out before setting the thing on the floor. “Fine. I’ll have Vander check it⁠—”

“Check what?” Vander asks as he strolls into my place.

I crack up at the sight of him. “Grizzly Adams, when was the last time you trimmed the roadkill on your face?”

Vander rubs at his jaw that’s one giant beard of brown hair despite his blond head. “I don’t know. A week or so? I’ve been busy. Why are you being a dick?”

I sigh. He’s right. I’m being a dick. To everyone. The ground beneath my feet suddenly doesn’t feel steady, and I’m the guy who is always surefooted. I don’t know how to interact with her now. What’s allowed and what’s not. Hell, I don’t even know how to be her friend anymore.

“Because he’s in love with a woman who doesn’t want him back. Keep up. But for real, how do they let you into the office looking like that?” Stone questions. “Have you showered?”

Vander has to think about this for a moment. “I think I showered yesterday morning. Or was it the morning before that?” He pauses and tilts his head. “No, it was definitely yesterday. And I own the company, asshole. They have to let me in. There was a massive cyber event, and I was working both sides of it. Sorry if I’m not as pretty as you two at the moment. You called and asked me to come over. I’m here.”

“Did you figure out who the threat actor was?” Stone presses.

Vander grins like an evil genius and shrugs. He never tells us any details about his nighttime hacking activities, though he does point to his colorful arm where he has a string of small dot tattoos. He adds a new dot for every hacker he takes down.

“Well, now that we’ve established this, we’re going out to Stella’s.”

Vander glances down at himself and then narrows his eyes suspiciously at me. “Why?”

“Because Sorel is heading there and Mason doesn’t know how to play it cool,” Stone supplies. “I’m also getting the impression he’s the nervous, jealous type. Who knew.”

Who knew, indeed? I’ve never been jealous before. Likely because I never cared enough to be jealous until now.

“Oh, brother,” Vander remarks with an admonishing shake of his head and quirk of his lips. “We’re not going to Stella’s. You can’t.”

“That’s what I told him.” Stone grins smugly at me. “Settle in, we’ll watch a movie or baseball or something while we wait up for them.”

I glare at my two best friends. “You’re telling me the women go out and we stay in and watch a movie?”

They both shrug. “Owen and Bennett are babysitting Rory and Willow tonight while Estlin and Katy go out, so they’re not coming over. We could call⁠—”

I hold up my hand to shut Stone up. “Stop. I’m fine. Sorta. Somehow this was easier when she was with the douchebag because I knew she belonged to him and not me. I trust her. We set rules. But men are going to be looking at her because she looks so goddamn hot I can hardly stand here without losing my mind and I’m not there to tell them to fuck off. She’s also not actually mine, so there’s that side of this for me.” Ch-rist. My hands drag through my hair. “How do you handle this?”

“Wow, you’ve got it bad for her,” Stone muses, sitting on the sofa and tossing his arm back along it.

I glare balefully. “Um, what was it that tipped you off? Me calling her my instalove for a year or running her off to Vegas or me marrying her?” This sucks.

“The guest services chick who spilled your picture has a family in Guatemala, including two small children with special needs she’s trying to bring up. Money gets them safely across the border,” Vander tells me.

I fall into my recliner, my elbows on my parted thighs.

“Fuck. Okay. Fine.” I shake my head. “Leave her be.”

“I was already going to, but I did wipe her phone, including any pictures she took of you.”

That’s good, at least.

“Brody got a job with New York as a secondary coach,” he continues. “Per his texts and emails, he’s not happy about it. He’s also been privately-not-privately trashing you everywhere he can, including to other players and teams as well as a few journalists. He’s been telling them you’re a showboat, nepotism baby, half-assed player who is selfish on and off the field and likes to touch things that don’t belong to him. Seems a bit like a pot-and-kettle situation, but that’s just my opinion. He’s also trying to rally support to his side by asking friends to be your foes, so be on the lookout.”

“That’s good about the job,” I comment. “It means he’ll be out of Boston and away from Sorel. Are his ramblings hurting me or my reputation?”

I don’t care that much, but I do care a little. It’s my career that I’ve worked my ass off for, and I don’t want it to go down the toilet because Brody feels like throwing a temper tantrum. What I did with Sorel probably doesn’t look good to the public. I know this. It’s why the press is outside right now. It’s scandalous, and I look like a woman-stealing asshole.

Sorel’s worth it, though.

“Nah,” he tells me, taking a seat on the sofa and scratching his Grizzly Adams beard. “Oddly enough, there’s a lot of online buzz and chatter about what a great guy and an amazing player you are. They’re also talking about how you came to Sorel’s rescue after she learned about Brody’s cheating. All of that is somehow circulating everywhere, not just in Boston.”

“Somehow?” I question, raising my eyebrows at him.

He grins and shrugs. “No one questions how a magician does his magic. They simply enjoy his show in awe at the spectacle and wonder of it all.”

“Fuck,” I hiss, my forehead falling into my hands. “Shut up. I love you. Don’t tell me more.”

Vander chuckles, and I blow out a breath.

“I play Brody’s team this season. That should be interesting.” Another breath tumbles from my lungs.

“Best advice?”

I glance up at Stone. “Shoot.”

“Stop pushing Sorel. Give her time and space, and let her grow comfortable here and around you. Be her friend again. While slowly showing her you want more and all the reasons you’re the perfect guy for her.”

I sigh. “I can do that.” Or at least I can try. What other choice do I have? Even if it sucks.