Reluctant Consent Read online

  Andrew held her calmly until she stilled.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes!”

  He released her and stood up in one fluid motion, moving directly for the door.

  “I’m very sorry, then. I love you. ” He looked her steadily in the eye, reaching behind him to open the door.

  She had flounced -- there was no other word for it -- out the door that day and once clear had screamed back over her shoulder:

  “Freak!”

  ***

  Upstairs, in the bedroom she grew up in, Denise wore a path around the room, weaving between bed and sofa, desk and entertainment center. A loom protruded into the room in a manner that made it challenging to get to the bathroom, and a huge crate that had once housed an orphaned wild raccoon and later turned into a storage facility loomed over the head of the bed.

  It never occurred to her to accept the will’s directive and marry Andrew the Penis Head, but she did wonder what on earth had possessed her mother. There was no use blaming her father or wondering about his motivation. The man had made it a religious practice to agree with anything his wife suggested. So it would be stupid to wonder why he hadn’t put his foot down for something as minor as forcing their only daughter to marry a Neanderthal from the Stone Age.

  Denise reached for her phone and spoke the second it picked up. “I have to know the best- the absolute King of Killer Estate Law-dude in town.”

  “Jesus, Denise. Hang on.” A thunk indicated the phone had been thrown and footsteps slowly dwindled away. She worried the feet wouldn’t return. They did.

  “You could have broken my eardrum.” On the other end of the connection Robert, her life long sidekick, stuck a bony finger in his ear and wriggled in an experimental fashion.

  “Did I?”

  “No.”

  “Then find me the name of a Killer Law Dude!”

  She explained the situation tersely though she left out the sick part about Andrew. Robert whistled. While he didn’t know the exact reason Denise had decided Andrew was a Penis Head, it was completely clear she couldn’t marry him as long as she thought of him that way.

  “Damn. Rock and a Hard Place.”

  “Name of Killer Law Dude!”

  ***

  At first, when the relationship imploded, Denise thought she might die. She’d been convinced she was passionately in love with Andrew and devastated when the relationship ended. For days she couldn’t eat or sleep or function and eventually she’d decided to completely banish the entire episode from her life.

  If she’d never met the man in the first place, she couldn’t miss the way he solved so many of her problems before she even realized a hurdle lay in her path. If it never happened she didn’t have to remember how gorgeous and sexy he was, or how she melted into a soft fuzzy pool at his feet when he touched her. If Andrew never really existed anyway there were no confusing feelings and thoughts to buzz around in her head about the weird ideas he might have held about marriage.

  Denise returned to several of her favorite pastimes. Once again she joined the girls for drinks after games in the intramural leagues she played on. She renewed her close acquaintance with the various bartenders of the city and made many men happy to be alive by returning to her favorite form of exercise, top of the bar dancing. And since she had lost her driving privileges, at least temporarily, she fattened the coffers of the local cab company.

  In this way Denise had coped with Andrew’s disappearance from her life. She had no idea what he had been up to in the meantime, not that she would seriously consider the mandate anyway but maybe he was already married? Surely that would reverse the clause? Could she be penalized for not doing the impossible?

  If he hadn’t married, Denise wondered if he were bribe-able? Perhaps she could offer him a huge chunk of cash to marry someone else very quickly.

  This was doubtful, of course. The Neanderthal lived by a weird code and such a thing was sure to violate his principles.

  Her head ached.

  ***

  Two days later Denise was ushered into the office of her lawyer. Mellissa Ambrose did not look like a Killer Law Dude but she was willing to trust Robert who had assured her Melissa was The Man. “Her balls are metaphorical,” Robert intoned, “but real.” He wrapped an arm around her in a supportive manner, whisked her into the inner office, and helped her into a chair as if she were ninety.

  “You asked for the bottom line, Ms. Marrow.” Melissa the Killer Law Dude stated. “Here it is: I can’t help you.”

  “Why not?”

  “No one ever really wants just the bottom line.”

  “What?”

  Melissa waved her hand. “This is a well written document. Sound law. No holes. You might be able to buy off the other parties. But your executors have to impose the restrictions. You can appeal of course, but it will be years in process and in the meantime your brothers will be grandparents and will have grown up with your aunt anyway. Marry the guy.”

  “I can’t.”

  Melissa looked mildly interested. “Why not? Ugly? Fat? Stupid? Money can fix just about anything.”

  “What if the man is a complete sicko? Could that help?”

  “Sick, how?”

  Denise gaped. No way she’d answer that one. “Could it help?”

  “It might.” Melissa sighed. She’d been hoping for something good. Sex with puppies. She’d heard about a man who wanted to marry a cow he kept in his bedroom. Something good. “Sick is subjective. It would have to be pretty universally acknowledged as perverse, detrimental, and still you’re talking years in process while your youngest brother starts to shave at Auntie’s house.”

  “Call it a philosophical incompatibility.”

  Melisa shook her head. “Nope.”

  ***

  Denise was no more successful when she met with her aunts. Perched with perfect posture on the edge of their chairs, the three aunts were flanked by spouses wearing solemn thoughtful faces. Her own brothers looked like young Golden Retrievers awaiting the signal to frisk off after birds.

  She used all of her powers of deceit, persuasion, bribery and black mail but to no avail. An Aunt, clearly designated as spokesperson, made their own effort at bribery. Denise declined.

  The aunts filed out in quiet disapproval, a united front. The Golden Retrievers broke loose and hurled gratitude and questions until Denise put two fingers into her mouth and whistled at which point they fell silent.

  She lied blatantly. “It will all be okay!” Then she stalked from the room.

  Chapter Two

  “Denise Marrow calling.”

  Andrew Cross grinned. He’d been expecting the phone call. “I recognize the number, Denise. What can I do for you?”

  “I have to ask you a personal question.”

  “Have to, Denise? If there’s someone holding a gun to your head give me a cue and I’ll send a SWAT team around.” Here was one complaint about Denise. Everything was overly dramatized. He was a man. No drama. His motto.

  Denise sighed. “I should have known you’d be a dick.”

  Andrew quirked a brow at his phone, grinned, shrugged, and pressed the end button. He laid the phone on his desk and kept his eyes on the second hand sweeping its way around the face of the clock. He made himself let the phone sound three times.

  “We were cut off, Andrew. I’ve a question to ask.”

  “We weren’t cut off, Denise. I hung up. Your first words need to be an apology or I hang up again and I don’t answer when you call back.”

  He imagined Denise having a near aneurism of fury. “I’m sorry about your parents, Denise. They were lovely people. You received the flowers?”

  “Yes. Thanks.” Again silence.

  “Denise.”

  She snapped the words. “I’m sorry.”

  “You’re sorry for-? Speaking disrespectfully, maybe? Rudely?”

  “Oh my god.” She sighed.

  Andrew waited. He was a patient man.


  “I’m sorry if I offended you.”

  “Denise. An apology should address the speaker’s actions, or words. If? If you offend? How can ‘dick’ fail to offend, Denise? Surely you didn’t mean it as a sign of respect?” His voice remained calm.

  Denise sighed.

  “I’m sorry I spoke in a manner which offended you.”

  “You’re still managing to suggest I’m at fault.” He sounded like a pompous dick -- to use her word -- but he held his ground. If the future he dreamed of was to happen with this woman he would have to remain calm, stoic, unmoving. Mind you a little levity might make the medicine go down.

  “But you’re getting closer, sugar. Give it another shot.”

  He heard her blow air out her nose.

  “I am very, very, very sorry I was rude.” Her voice was laden with sarcasm but it showed compliance even if she wasn’t ready to give up on the pride yet.

  “Forgiven. What’s up? How can I help?”

  “Are you married?”

  “What? No!”

  “Engaged? Close to engaged?”

  “Not even dating, Denise.” He threw her a bone. “You broke my heart, lady.”

  She blew out another breath. “Can you meet me for coffee this afternoon, please? It’s important.”

  She sounded sad, and reluctant, but not bitchy with ego, and his heart went out to her.

  “Name the time and the place, sweetheart. I’ll free my schedule.”

  ***

  Denise pulled air into her lungs with a desperate gulp and pushed her way into Starbucks. Andrew, handsome as ever, sat at a table which actually afforded some privacy. She saw a steaming mug and a scone waiting for her and her heart ached. She’d adored Andrew and he had, always, taken care of her. Too bad he had this weird predilection for kinky stuff.

  She forced herself to smile and pretended her skin wasn’t crawling with embarrassment. Weaving through the maze of tables she admitted she had a fondness for kinky stuff herself, and if she were ruthlessly, viciously, dying day honest, she thought she could go for kinky spanko stuff in the context of sex-but not the other weirdo, I’m the dominant man stuff.

  Her toe caught in a maze of computer cable and she pitched forward. Flushing deeply, she caught herself at the same moment as Andrew’s hands grasped her upper arms and stopped her fall. He manfully hauled her to his chest and she felt every bone in her stupid body melt.

  She loved his chest. Andrew had the best chest. Broad, muscular, with the requisite happy trail leading down to his pubis --but otherwise his chest was hairless and she loved it that way. When she put her face against his chest she loved the heat that radiated straight to her.

  She fought to free her foot.

  “Jeez. Walk often?”

  She looked down, happy to be distracted from her body’s reaction. The speaker had at least fifteen items jabbed into parts of her face and worse, she was tiny in the annoying way so many young women were these days. . Denise opened her mouth and then closed it again. In the past Andrew liked to mention that life was not a reality TV show and real people didn’t act as if it was. So she’d keep her mouth shut just in case he was ok with kinky stuff in public and she was liable to find herself embarrassed. Besides, maybe he was right?

  Andrew propelled her firmly towards a chair, pulling it out for her and when she sat, sliding it a fraction closer to the iron café table.

  She tucked her bag under her chair, remembering how shocked he’d been at her willingness to pay that kind of money for a purse while complaining about the price of her textbooks. She took a sip from the mug and using every ounce of willpower she could summon looked up and met his eyes.

  “Thanks for the latte. Exactly what I needed today. You always did take good care of me, Andrew.”

  His eyes smiled back at her and he drank from his own mug, black coffee she’d bet.

  Denise traced her lips with a quick flick of her tongue and then rolled them inward and pressed them together. One hand groped blindly for a chap stick in her purse.

  “You know my parents, Andrew. They were nuts. All due respect, with them dead and all, but…” She dashed a few tears away before they could slide down her cheeks.

  Andrew put his hand out and touched her arm.

  “How can I help you?”

  “My parents left a totally unreal will. It can be fought of course, but in the meantime it leaves my brothers with my Aunt Lucinda. I can’t do that.”

  “According to their will I can only be their guardian if I marry you.”

  Complete silence. Andrew’s hand slowly withdrew.

  “Marry anyone?”

  “Marry you.”

  She looked at her lap. Tears dripped steadily down her face. Furious, she snatched the napkin from under her mug, blotted her eyes and blew her nose, glaring at Andrew the whole time. His face radiated warm, patient understanding. She wanted to pound him into a pulp.

  Her parents’ death had left her too sensitive and vulnerable. She didn’t like this weepy stuff one bit.

  Andrew helped her out. “What do you want me to do, Denise?”

  Denise swallowed. “I don’t have much time, Andrew. I have to be married within a month of their death or Option B goes into effect. And it can’t be reversed.” She fought for air.

  “Will you please marry me, Andrew? Just until I can find some way out of this mess?”

  He looked at her, his face solemn, and scooted his chair back from the table.

  A tremor shot through her. She was going to lose her brothers. She would never forgive herself. “Please. Please Andrew!”

  Andrew had the urge to crow. He had Denise right where he wanted her. Another part of him mourned like a girl. He wanted Denise to accept his dominance because she loved him and knew it was right, not because she had to.

  Shit. Who was he kidding?

  If a woman submitted, she did it because she had too, one way or the other. Something pushed at her, whether it was her nature, circumstances -- like in the ‘old’ days, desire, or brute force.

  Andrew pushed the scone in her direction. “Eat, would you?”

  She shook her head.

  “No appetite?”

  She nodded, self-conscious, not sure what to do with her hands.

  “Ok. Let’s stay cool. Keep things easy for a moment, ok? I’m starved even if you’re not.”

  She looked too skinny and well that wasn’t really a surprise since she’d very recently lost her parents.

  He kept the conversation casual. Three or four times he held a bite of scone to her mouth and coaxed. The first time she’d been startled. The wheels turned and as her mouth opened, forming the word ‘no,’ he carpe deim-ed a chunk of butter and chocolate into her mouth. After the first few she’d complied easily. Andrew wasn’t an ass so he didn’t push the matter too often.

  “I want to help.” He pulled in a huge gulp of air.

  “I loved you, Denise. I asked you to marry me.” His eyes roamed her face. “I still do love you and I’d like to be able to help you…“

  She cut him off, relief spreading over her face. “Then do! Just do! I’ll find a way out of it. Damn, you can probably find a way out of it.“

  He shook his head. “No, Denise. I am not going to marry you with the intention of getting a divorce the minute you finagle a way around your parents’ wishes.”

  Her eyes widened, panic setting in.

  “I just told you- I love you.” He waited, eyes steady on her face. She flushed, looked down.

  “That’s kind of you, Andrew. I just mean I feel badly forcing you…“

  “You’re not going to force me to do anything, Denise.” He continued to watch her. She struggled, visibly-tense.

  “I don’t know how I feel about you, Andrew.”

  He nodded. “I understand. You’re bringing this to me because you feel you have no choice.”

  “Exactly.”

  “But I do have a choice, Denise.”

  She looked
at him, her eyes wide. He gave her points. It took a great deal of spine to keep her slim body angled resolutely in his direction.

  “I want to help you, Denise. But if I marry you it will be on my terms.”

  She set her mug down and leaned back, appeared to force herself to look at him.

  “Explain, please.” Her voice shook a little. “What are your terms?”

  “As before.” He let his words sit in the quiet. Her eyes dropped again and her hands twisted in her lap.

  “You mean…?”

  “Look at me, Denise.” He kept his voice soft, warm. This was hard for her. He loved this woman very much.

  She brought her eyes to his face. Andrew sat forward, elbows on his thighs and his hands dangling. His voice was quiet, calm. “I will be the head of our house. I will love you, respect you. I will honor who you are, value your strengths and always listen to your views.”

  She dragged in a breath and turned her face away. Andrew put out a hand and gently brought her chin back to him. He caressed her cheek once with his knuckles before taking his hand away and letting it rest on her leg.

  She shook, trembled under his hand.

  “I will expect your compliance.”

  She swallowed again and looked away.

  “Denise.”

  Good girl. She was able to bring her eyes back to his.

  “I will insist on your compliance.”

  He held her gaze for a second more. “Those are my terms.”

  A shudder wracked her body. Her mouth opened.

  Laying a finger on her lips, Andrew shook his head. “No, Denise. Don’t say anything. Go home. Think it over. In the morning call my office and give me your decision. We’ll take it from there.”

  ***

  An hour later, sick to her stomach but alone in her own bathroom, Denise retched into the bowl and when she could breathe enough, sobbed. There was no point in thinking. She had no choice. None. Her beautiful brothers were wild and uncivilized and bereft and they did not deserve to be handed over to their Aunt and Uncle

  She sat bolt upright on the tile floor and moaned. If she married Andrew she would save them from the dark gloom of the Wicked Sisters only to induct them into the realm of a bizarre man who liked to beat his wife. Her body spasmed again.