The Complete Arrogant Series (22 page)

BELLAMY

 
“When are you
going to take me home to meet your parents?” Cortland’s hand glides into places
it doesn’t belong. His hot breath evaporates into fog as he whispers into my
ear. I wish we were anywhere else but the backseat of his Kia. “Your father’s
going to love me.”

I tug on his arm until his hand is free. I don’t want him
talking about my father while he’s about to be knuckle-deep inside me.

“What’d you stop for?” The baffled expression on his
chiseled face is a problem for me. “I thought you liked it when I–”

“Not in the mood tonight.” That’s what he gets for bringing
up my prudent, strict, devout father who would marry me off in two seconds flat
if he knew I were in the backseat of a boy’s car when I’m supposed to be at
Bible study.
 

I stare into his impossibly gorgeous green eyes. Even in the
dark they shine like two polished emeralds. His greedy hands lunge for me once
more, but I block his move, crossing my forearms like some kind of flesh-toned
barricade.

“You should take me back now. It’s getting late.” I inject
my tone with a saccharin apology in an attempt to soften any case of blue
balls.

Cortland’s shoulders fall. He pushes a steady breath through
his nostrils. “Was it something I said?”

Yep
.

“I just don’t want to get caught. We shouldn’t do this
anymore.” I take the virtuous path, hoping that a faith-based argument will
hold some weight with the son of an AUB quorum member. Besides, it’s time I
break up with Cortland. Not that he’s my boyfriend, but I’m sort of bored with
him and the thrill of sneaking around is now yawn-inducing.

And I think he’s falling for me, which wasn’t supposed to
happen.

I don’t do romance and love and boyfriends, and he gave me a
Valentine’s Day card last month. This day was going to come sooner or later.
Now’s
as good a time as any to end it.

I’m going to miss those lips, and the things he does with
his tongue and the way his weight and warmth felt against my body in the cool
of the night under the shade of dark. Our compatibility starts at physical and
stops short beyond that.

It’s been fun,
my handsome Cortland.

“You’re right.” He reaches for my hand, sandwiching it
between his and holding my gaze as if he’s about to utter some kind of profound
truth. “We need to make this right, Bellamy. We need to stop fooling around.
It’s been, what, five-and-a-half months now?”

I wasn’t counting but okay.

 
“I have a
confession.” His words stop my heart like the pause of a clock right before a
bomb’s detonation. “I’ve already met your father.”

My mouth dries, prohibiting me from uttering a single word
for a moment. “Um. What?”

He reaches for my face, cupping my jaw in a moment that
might be tender to anyone else but me. “It’s time I make you mine. I want to be
sealed to you.”

He has to be joking.

This isn’t the green-eyed, blond-haired guy I’ve been
holding make out sessions with every Wednesday for the last five months, the
one constantly uniformed in Sperry Topsiders, gingham button downs, and khakis
with creases down the legs.

This is an imposter.

“
Cortland
.” His
name comes from the most guttural part of me. “
What
did you
do
?”

“Relax.” He laughs. I don’t. “I just told him I was
interested in courting you. He has no idea that we’ve been…”

His eyes drift to the hint of skin peeking out from the top
of my unbuttoned blouse, and he wears the satisfied, stupid grin of a man
replaying his glory days from the highlight reel in his head.

“Oh, God.” I exhale and then gulp in drink after drink of
cool, spring air. “What did he say?”

“We went out to lunch. He wanted to get to know me. I told
him we met at Bible study. Told him who my father was.”

My stomach twists hard, a balled knot lodging itself under
my ribcage. I know where this is going. My father couldn’t have dreamed up a
more perfect suitor for his twenty-two-year-old daughter. My mothers haven’t
shut up lately about the fact that I should be married by now, and my father
stopped silencing their commentary several months back.

“He asked how I felt about plural marriage, and that’s when
I knew you were my destiny.” Cortland’s hand hooks behind my neck, and he pulls
me toward him. His lips graze mine, and I feel him smiling. “My family is
polygamous, too. Bellamy. You should’ve told me. I believe wholeheartedly in
the principle of polygamy. I would be honored to take you as my first wife.”

The car is hot. Suffocating. His cologne makes my stomach
churn.

I don’t know if this is a good time to tell him I
wholeheartedly do
not
believe in the
principle of polygamy. All I know
is
I need to get out
of here.

Now
.

“Take me home.” I move toward the handle of the passenger
door, but he grabs my hand, pinning me against the seat.

“Bellamy, stop. You’re being ridiculous. Keep sweet. That’s
all you have to do. Keep sweet, and I’ll take care of you. Submit to me. Marry
me. Have my babies. We’ll expand our family when the time is right. This is the
only path for us.” He produces his argument like he’s speaking undeniable
truths. “This is what Heavenly Father wants for us. I feel it in the deepest
part of my soul.”

He sounds like my father on his craziest of days, when the
ranting and quoting and paraphrasing booms from his mouth to God’s ears.

My heart races until the blood whooshes in my ears, and my
head fills full of a thought-drowning thickness.

“You don’t want to marry me, Cortland.” I jerk my wrist, but
he’s gripping it hard, unwilling to free me. “I’m all wrong for you. I’m not
the submitting type.”

“Sure you are.” He releases my wrist for a second and then
squeezes tighter. “Might take some work, but we’ll get there.”

“Maybe I don’t want to submit.”

“Maybe you don’t have a choice.” His eyes flash in a way
that chills my soul.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

His answer comes in the form of an egotistical leer, one
that implies he’s much craftier than I ever gave him credit for.

“Are you blackmailing me?” I lean away, or at least as much
as I can. My back presses against the seat until there’s no more give in the
upholstery.

“I want you, Bellamy. I have to have you. I’m the only man
who’s ever felt you from the inside.”

Right.
With your fingers.

“I’m the only man who’s ever tasted you. I’m the only man
who’s ever commanded your body, pleasured you, and that’s why you keep coming
back to me.” He leans closer to me, running his mouth across mine before taking
a single, biting kiss. “I want the rest of you, which means you have to marry
me. And I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure that happens.”

“Take me home, Cortland.” I wriggle out from underneath him,
jerking my wrists from his grasp and lunging for the door. The second the fresh
air hits me, uncontrollable shivers run the length of my body.

The click of the opposite passenger door fills the empty
parking lot. I stand frozen as he climbs into the driver’s seat and then rolls
down the window next to me.

“Get in, Bellamy. I’ll take you back.”

I’m powerless in this moment because my car is several miles
across town, and I do not own a cell phone. Calling my sister, Waverly, for a
ride will just get me into even more trouble at home, and the last thing I need
is for my father to be asking why I was on the south side of town, when I was
supposed to be at Bible Study.

I climb in, slamming the door hard.

The drive across town is a mixture of muted thoughts and
road noise. By the time he pulls into the church parking lot, my car is the
only one left. According to the clock on the dash, I’m going to be thirty
minutes late going home, which means
regardless,
I’ll
still have my father’s wrath to deal with.

I can’t win.

Cortland pulls up beside my car, reaching over to place his
hand atop my knee.

My body responds to his touch with a delayed flinch.

“Tonight, you’ll tell your father that I approached you
after our studies, and we lost track of time as we spoke. You’ll arrange a time
for me to meet everyone, and then we’ll begin our official courtship.” He
speaks as if he’s had this planned for a while.

I should’ve known where this was headed when he signed his
Valentine’s Day card with a heart and “
Love
forever, Cortland
.” All along I thought I was dealing with some love-struck
puppy dog, not a sadistic maniac.

Guess I thought wrong.

“Submit to me, Bellamy. No one else can love you the way you
need to be loved. Only me. The sooner you accept that, the happier you’ll be.”

Marrying Cortland, or anyone else like him, would breathe
life into my darkest nightmare.

My body buzzes with paddle-shock intensity. None of my
thoughts makes sense, and I’m not certain I could form a complete sentence if
forced. In all those months of sneaking around, never once did I consider this
to be a possible outcome.

“I’m going to marry you by the end of the year,” he says. He
releases his hand from my lap and rubs it across the smooth plastic of his
steering wheel. I hate the slick sound it makes against his palm. “And
Bellamy?”

I respond with silence.

“I strongly advise meeting me halfway with this. I don’t
think your father would appreciate the truth.”

“So you
are
blackmailing me.”

“I like to think of it as saving your soul.”

I can save my own soul,
thank-you-very-much
.

“Whatever helps you sleep.
”
I lurch
for the door handle before he has a chance to stop me, and I slam the door the
second I’m free. I hear his voice, but I refuse to listen to the endless
spewing of venomous threats fused with scripture.

I’ll do what I have to for now because if he’s not bluffing
and he does tell my father everything, I’ll be married off in a heartbeat.

And I know that marriage will be with someone ten times
worse than the twisted control freak with the talented tongue and deceptively
gorgeous green gaze.

I scramble for my car, taking with me a handful of things I
know to be true.

I would sooner die than marry Cortland McGregor.

I refuse to submit to him or any other man.

I’m going to get out of here as soon as possible, no matter
what it takes.

BELLAMY

“I’m sorry. Your interview was yesterday.”

“No, no.” I yank my planner from my bag and slap it across
the marble reception desk, my cheeks burning behind the blanket of hair that
falls into my face. I refuse to believe this is happening. “It’s today. My
professor set this up last week. The first Tuesday in April.”

The receptionist’s desk phone rings shrill and intrusive.
She points a finger straight up in the air and takes the call. I’m flipping
through the pages of my planner like a crazy person, page after page of March
dates finally bring me to the current month, and several pages later, I’m
staring at today’s date.

The page is blank.

I blink as if my eyes are the ones who have deceived me.

It’s
all
their
fault.

“No.” I run my palm across the smooth, traitorous page,
dragging in a haggard breath before I flip backward to Monday.

Monday, April
6
^th
– 10:30 AM, Interview with Randy Mutchler, RJM Corporation

“This has got to be a mistake. This is not like me at all. I’ve
never been late for so much as a doctor’s appointment.” I’m rambling,
words
flowing straight from my frazzled brain to my tingling
lips. The stale lobby air nearly suffocates me. “I’m sorry about this. Is there
any way at all he could maybe still see me today?”

I flash the kind of benign smile you might see in a stock
photo of a business professional lugging a briefcase, hoping to God this
receptionist is the merciful type who just might have a soft spot in her heart
for interviewees with a nervous streak.

“I’m sure these things happen all the time.” My words are
half chuckle and
one-hundred
percent an attempt not to
break down and cry. My master plan is crumbling like ashes to dust. I slide my
hand down a shiny tendril of blonde hair that spills over my shoulder. The
softness against my skin is comforting.