Page 14 of Vodka and Pop Rocks (Empire Records 3)

Archer

My heart plummets to the pit of my stomach as I watch Willow fall. Her eyes flutter closed, and she faints right in front of me. I rush to catch her and scoop her up under her legs and behind her back. Her limp body doesn’t protest, and I quickly walk her to our bed, running to fetch a wet washcloth from the master bathroom. When I return, she’s awake and looking around, confused.

“You passed out on me,” I say gently, but still teasing.

“I did?”

The moment she speaks, her stomach rumbles, and her eyebrows dart straight up. I can’t help but laugh at how adorable she looks. I watch as she slowly relaxes, and a comfortable smile graces her face.

“Ready for dinner? Sounds like you’re hungry.” Nodding my head toward the other room where I have dinner waiting for us, I think this all might have been too much. I wanted to add some real romance to our arrangement, but maybe her fainting is a sign of what a bad idea it would be to try and mix pleasure with business.

“I hope I didn’t freak you out with the ring and all the flowers. You deserve special, and I just wanted this to be special,” I whisper, and my hand finds hers, needing to feel her soft skin on mine to ground me. A few seconds later, I pull my hand back at the feel of her warm skin, reminding myself she’s not mine to keep. Sure, I can borrow her for photo opportunities, but when will she figure out that my life is too much to handle?

Maybe it’ll be my mother who will push her too far, or a woman from my past retelling a tale of how terrible I was to her. And it will be true. I have been horrible to other women. Maybe, it’ll be some article that will get thrown in her face, and the high society bullshit will embarrass her. I will embarrass her. I’m not the bad boy player most people think I am, but I’ve done things that I’m not proud of.

“No, it wasn’t too much. I didn’t expect any of it, but I love it. Thank you,” she says while looking embarrassed.

“Willow, you fainted as soon as I slipped the ring on your finger.”

“Yeah, I realize that now,” she says, flushing.

I laugh lightly and reach over to brush a strand of bright blue hair from her eyes. Her face softens, and the tension leaves her shoulders.

“Are you hungry?” I know she is, but I ask anyway, to change the subject. “I could bring your plate in here. Cuddle up under the blankets, and I’ll put on a movie. Be right back.” I leave before she can protest. I don’t think I’ve ever eaten in bed before, but I wanted to as soon as the idea left my mouth.

Hurrying to the set table, I grab the plates first and head for the kitchen. I pull out a serving tray and load it with the prepared dinner plates and a bowl of fruit, then take it to the bed. She’s pulled her messy blue locks into a ball on top of her head and is scrolling through Netflix when I set the tray down on top of my navy-blue comforter. The look she gives me makes my chest tighten, but I don’t want to think about what it means, so I run back for the chilled bucket of champagne and the contract I have no choice but to ask her to sign. Hopefully, the chocolate-covered strawberries soften the awkward conversation I’m about to start.

I plop down on the bed beside her, laying the bucket at the end and casually tossing the contract between us.

“What’s this?” She asks, picking it up.

“That’s just a standard NDA. Nothing set in stone, but I thought it would be a good idea that we nail down some legal details. It’s for both of us, not just me. I want to know what you want, and for you to be comfortable with everything.”

Sitting on the bed and balancing the plate on my knee, I cut a bite of steak and eat it as she flips through the pages.

“My own room? You kicking me out, Archer?”

I swallow hard at her words. I tried thinking of as many things as possible to try and make this worth it for her, but her tone still hints at an inkling of hurt.

“Of course not. I just want you to have your own space if you want it. My office sits just there, and I was just thinking I could take out everything inside, and you could make it yours. I love having you here. I just wish I could make it worth it.” Letting out a frustrated breath, I run my hands through my hair, pushing my plate away. “You didn’t have to help me, but you agreed to do it, anyway. I guess I’m just having a hard time saying thank you. I really am grateful, Willow.”

Our eyes lock, and her shoulder practically touches mine as we both sit back against the bedframe. My eyes track her tongue as it sweeps out to wet her plump, luscious lips. I feel my body gravitate toward her, and I lean over, ready to finally kiss her when I hear her clear her throat. I immediately stop my descent, and my eyes find hers again. She brings her hand to my chest, and the intent is clear. Backing away, I scoot further to my side of the bed, giving her space.

“I’m sorry,” I say through clenched teeth, mad at myself for such foolish actions.

“Listen, I think blurring the lines here is probably a bad idea. You need a professional wife, and in my experience, drama only follows actions like the one you just wanted.” She speaks gently.

“Fair enough,” I nod.

She picks up the pen and, for the first time since this all started, I regret not making Willow my wife. I meant it when I said she’s perfect, but I think I just ruined any real chance I might have had at making it real by bringing the contract into the equation.

She flips through the pages, signing and initialing where prompted by the brightly colored sticky tabs.

“I wrote this in so that it’s official.” She points to the beautiful cursive writing that states no physical relations between the two parties for the duration of the agreement.

I accept it, as well as any man would take a kick to the balls and smile, hating it.

“We probably shouldn’t date other people either,” she says in a way that’s more like a question.

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