Love you...not!: A Romantic Comedy (Reckless in Love Book 1) Read online

  

  Table of Contents

  Table of Contents

  Love you…not!

  Also By Lark Anderson

  Author’s Note

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Other Books by Lark Anderson

  Reviews & Arcs

  About the Author – Lark

  Love you…not!

  Copyright © 2020 by Lark Anderson

  All rights reserved.

  Lark Letter Press

  131 Daniel Webster Hwy #166

  Nashua, NH 03060

  www.larkandersonbooks.net

  [email protected]

  Edited by; Natasha Davis

  No part of this publication may be reproduced or distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher, except for brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission request, write to the publisher, addressed, “Attention: Permission Coordinator,” at the address above.

  Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictionally. Names, characters, and places are products of the author’s imagination. The following story contains mature content and is intended for mature readers.

  Also By Lark Anderson

  The Beguiling a Billionaire Series

  The Billionaire’s Board

  The Billionaire’s Fixer Upper

  The Billionaire’s Funding

  The Bad Girl

  The Dis-Graced

  The Trainwreck

  Reckless in Love

  Love you…not!

  The Glow Girlz Series

  Stacey's Seduction

  Tempting Teysa

  Desiree's Delight

  Click HERE for a free ebook!!!

  If you'd like to become an ARC reviewer for Lark, please email her at: [email protected]. If you would like to subscribe to Lark's newsletter, please sign up here.

  Author’s Note

  Hello, Friends!!!

  Heads up! Love you…not! is a stand-alone romance short that won’t make you miss out on any sleep! It’s part of a new 90 minute reads collection I’m developing called Reckless in Love that I think you’ll enjoy!

  Yours in Adventure,

  Lark

  Chapter 1

  Natasha

  Today was supposed to be a great day. The best day of my life, actually.

  Instead—it’s become a nightmare—horror movie levels of bad.

  Why, do you ask? Well, because today I was supposed to marry my best friend, Derek, while my other best friend, Stacey, acted as my maid of honor.

  What happened? Well, an hour before I was supposed to walk down the aisle, Derek confessed his undying love to Stacey, and instead of running off like most scandalous couples do, they figured their families were there, why not just go for it?

  That’s right, the two people I trusted the most in this world threw me away like I was trash.

  My family was angry and appalled, leaving after the announcement was made. Well, most of my family, anyway. Two wayward cousins thought the whole ordeal was awfully romantic and brave. The words ‘true love’ were thrown around…to which I vomited. Other guests were confused, and several of our friends stayed, probably from shock. The person who was officiating the occasion, his cousin, just kind of went with the flow.

  “I hope one day we can all get past this,” Stacey said to me, before rushing to say her vows.

  And now I’m sitting at a bar, drinking my sorrows away, wondering if I can muster up enough courage to talk to a guy across the room.

  The bartender looks askance at me, clearly not wanting to make eye contact. I can tell he’s been watering down my drink, which is probably for the best considering the state I’m in, but I certainly don’t appreciate it.

  “Mind if I take a seat?”

  I turn to see a handsome man in an impeccably tailored suit. He could be plucked straight out of one of those Mission Impossible spy movies—he’s that level of tall, dark, and handsome. Shaggy hair, strong jaw, intense eyes—yes, please!

  I bite my lip, trying to appear flirty and probably failing miserably. Even though I’m twenty-two, I’ve never done this before. I met my fiancé in preschool, and never dated anyone else. I know it sounds crazy, but Derek was mine, and my heart belonged to him.

  “I think you’d better move along,” the bartender says, glaring at tall, dark, and handsome.

  “What’s wrong with me taking a seat and buying the lady a drink?” the spy lookalike says.

  “Her drinks are on the house,” the bartender returns, crossing his muscular arms over his chest.

  The spy looks at me, then back to the bartender. “Alright, I hear ya.”

  He turns to leave, which sends a surge of panic shooting through me. I don’t want to be alone, and if anyone can help me forget this terrible day, it would be Mr. Spy.

  I grab his wrist. “Stay,” I command.

  His lips curl into a smirk, and he looks at the bartender. “I’d like a top-shelf scotch and whatever the lady wants.”

  The bartender’s nostrils flare, which is kind of cute. I’m humbled that he’s taken such an interest in my safety, but what he doesn’t understand is that I desperately need this distraction. Without it, God only knows what trouble I might find.

  “The name’s Roderick,” the spy lookalike says as he takes a seat next to me at the bar.

  “Natasha,” I reply, looking down at the empty glass in my hands. “Natasha Snyder.”

  “Rough day?” he asks.

  “How could you tell?”

  “Between the smeared eyeliner and once-in-a-lifetime dress, it was an easy guess.”

  I look down at my wedding gown, which is a mess of frill and lace spilling over the barstool. “God, I must look pathetic.”

  “Not at all,” Roderick replies with a smile. “It makes you look like you have a story to tell.”

  “A story? Well, here’s my story. On the very day of my wedding, my fiancé confesses his undying love for my maid of honor, and she replaces me as bride.”

  He blinks, and I wonder if I’ve said too much.

  Finally, he returns with, “If you ask me, they’re the ones that look pathetic. Your ex-fiancé just proved you’re better off without him, and your friend now has to live with the knowledge that she’s ruined what was supposed to be one of the best days of your life. Sure, they’re happy now, but I doubt it’ll last, and when it’s over, they’ll have their regrets.”

  The bartender comes back with our drinks, eyeing Roderick suspiciously. I ignore his concerned expression, fully aware of what he must think of me.

  Roderick takes a sip of his scotch, and I can’t help but wonder what his story is.

  “What are you doing here talking to me? Of all the women to chat up, why the woman so obviously dumped at the altar?”

  “You looked like a kindred spirit is all.”

  I spike a brow. “Kindred spirit? How so?”

  “You aren’t the only one left at the altar, though in my case, I was stood up at the justice of the peace.”

  My jaw gapes open in surprise. “Justice of the peace? What crazy lady would stand you up?” I say without thinking.

  He chuckles. “I’d say the same to you, though it’d be a crazy man becaus
e I don’t believe you were marrying a lady.”

  I roll my eyes and take a long sip of my watered-down fuzzy navel.

  “The marriage was an arrangement,” he says, licking his lips and downcasting his eyes.

  “But you don’t look like you’re from a culture that does that sort of thing?”

  He snickers. “I’m from the culture that is most known for that sort of thing.”

  “How do you figure?”

  “Because I’m from the culture of money. To this day, rich ‘aristocratic’ families will do anything to keep their wealth in-house.”

  “Were you going to marry your cousins or something? A sister?”

  He chuckles. “No. My fiancé was a fashion heiress, but apparently, someone in oil swooped in and made her a better offer.”

  “Are you being serious?”

  “It’s not like I wanted to marry her, but I am a dutiful son. My parents are livid. They think it’s somehow my fault. They’re probably looking up the next suitable match as we speak.”

  “Who the hell are you?”

  “Roderick Branson.”

  My hand flies to my mouth as a lightbulb turns on in my head. “Roderick Branson! Alan Branson’s son! You’re from—”

  “Branson Innovations. Yes, I am the heir.”

  “But-but—why would they even care? Your family has more money than…like the combined wealth of the lower five-percent or something crazy like that.”

  He shakes his head. “Your numbers are a little generous, but even if my parents had every single dollar in existence, they’d go and print more, because they’ll never have enough.”

  I finish my drink and check my phone, reading through dozens of messages ranging from, “I can’t believe that asshole pulled that shit,” to, “I’m sorry I stayed for their wedding, but we’ve all been friends for so long that I didn’t know what to do.”

  I shove my phone in my purse and focus on Roderick, who is literally making my heart skip a beat. I wonder what it’s like to kiss him, if he’d be better than Derek, the only person I’d have to compare him to.

  “Why were you going to the justice of the peace?” I ask. “Can’t you afford a multi-million dollar wedding?”

  “We could, but there are some business deals going down that we hoped to be married during, and Vegas gets the job done quickly. Plus, we didn’t want others to know—”

  “Because of insider trading?”

  He grimaces. “Let’s not say insider trading so loudly. Let’s just say, the match could upset some markets, and we were looking to be opportunistic.”

  Of course, Roderick is an obnoxious money man who cares little, if anything, for anyone that fails to advance his cause.

  “I didn’t think it was possible, but you’ve actually made me feel better about myself.”

  He casts me a dubious look. “Is that so?”

  “Yeah, I mean, I might have been left at the altar, but the most I have to deal with is a broken heart, loss of friendship, and the money I’m out from the wedding. You’ll never have to worry about a broken heart, and that is way more tragic than what I’m suffering from.”

  He looks at me, confused. “Wow, were you aiming to wound me with that? If so, you missed the mark on that one.”

  “If I ever had to choose between love and money, love would win every time.”

  “You say that despite love slapping you in the face? And, forgive me for asking, but what do you know of money?”

  “I’m a teacher, daughter to a college professor and a housewife, so I know precious little about money. I’ve always been happy, though, and I’ve felt loved. So I know I can be happy without money, and I’m sure I can never be happy without love.”

  “Then, let’s make a wager.”

  “A wager?”

  “The justice of the peace hasn’t gone anywhere. Let’s get married, right now. You’ll have my vast wealth at your disposal to do with as you please, within reason. In a month, if you so choose, you can go back to your life and look for love, taking none of my wealth with you, or, you can admit to me that you can be just as happy with money, minus the love, and we can continue our arrangement.”

  My face contorts into an angry rage. “Is this some kind of joke?”

  “Absolutely not. I’ll prove it to you, if you’re game.”

  “Why would you do that? It’s absolutely crazy.”

  “For starters, I want to get back at my parents, and marrying a school teacher just may give one of them a heart attack. But aside from that, you’re acting mighty smug and self-righteous. It’s time someone took you down a notch.”

  “Trust me, I’ve already been taken down several notches today.”

  “Then what’s one more?”

  “Seriously, though, why risk your fortune to prove a point?”

  “It’s not really a big risk, if you ask me. I spend my parents’ money, not my own, so if things get bad, you can fight me for my salary, but not my eventual inheritance.”

  “What if you like, meet the one? Are we just going to get a quickie divorce and pretend like this never happened?”

  “You mean, what if I fall in love?” He chuckles dryly. “Impossible. I’m twenty-eight and have never come close. If I were going to fall in love, it would have happened by now.”

  I think about his proposal, wondering if I have it in me to go through what he’s suggesting. On the one hand, it’s the ultimate fuck you to my ex-best friends. On the other much larger hand, I still believe in love.

  It doesn’t have to be for long. A month spent in luxury is a great distraction from the bottomless pit of depression you’ve fallen into.

  Roderick looks at his watch. “Courthouse closes in twenty. It’s now or never.”

  Go for it. You literally have nothing to lose.

  “Let’s do this!” I say.

  He takes some bills from his wallet, sets them on the bar, gets up, and says, “I’m gonna have fun proving you wrong.”

  “I hope you do.”

  Chapter 2

  Roderick

  I know with one-hundred-percent certainty that I’m about to make the biggest mistake of my life, but I can’t muster the sense to care.

  I’m done with my parents’ unreasonable expectations. I’m done with having women paraded around in front of me, their estimated inheritance regarded before all other attributes. I’m done with business negotiations starting with the salacious introduction of a daughter, grand-daughter, or sometimes—wives!

  Natasha will be a refreshing breath of fresh air compared to the vipers I usually keep as company. Her makeup is smeared, and her chestnut hair is disheveled, but she’s prettier than the models you see in magazines, though some people may be too arrogant to realize it.

  And of course, I can’t help but wonder what she’s hiding underneath her poofy wedding dress. Her breasts are full, being pushed up by her bodice, creating a tantalizing visual. But it’s not just her decadent flesh that has me interested. I like her innocence of the world and unfailing belief in love, despite the fact that she’s just been left at the altar. It saddens me that I’m going to be the one to prove her wrong.

  I pull out my phone and see a text from my mother. Apparently, a travel heiress is being peddled by an ambitious father. She’s pretty, with champagne tastes and sun-kissed skin. A prize to the right man, but not to me.

  I look over at Natasha, who’s being propelled by her own stubbornness and anger into a loveless marriage with me, the opposite of what she wanted.

  When I saw her at the bar, I had figured we’d have a drink, exchange stories, I’d invite her to my hotel, and that’d be the end of that. I couldn’t have anticipated the turn our conversation would take, and now I’m in too deep to walk away.

  Still, I wonder if I’m doing the right thing by her. I worry that I’m taking advantage of a woman who’s just gone through something traumatic.

  Natasha looks determined, though. Maybe it’s the thought of getting back at her
stupid fiancé, or perhaps it the wealth she hopes to spend. Whatever it is, I need to find out if she’s in the right mindstate.

  “Are you sure you want to go through with this?” I ask gently as I lead her into the courthouse.

  “Go through with what? Getting married to a tech heir so I can rub it in my ex’s face, spend all your money, then go back to my mundane life in a month?” she asks. “ Yeah, I’m sure.”

  She’s speaking clearly, and there’s not a whiff of alcohol on her. If she considers this a mistake in the morning, it won’t be because I’ve taken advantage of her.

  We fill out the application for the marriage license, which takes about fifteen minutes to process. In almost every other state, this kind of mistake wouldn’t be possible, but Nevada caters to the reckless.

  “The Justice of the Peace is booked,” the clerk says nonchalantly.

  “I think you’ll find that I’m worth accommodating,” I say, sliding a crisp one-hundred-dollar bill across the counter.

  The clerk casts me an annoyed glance. “You can slide that on over to any of the Elvi lining the streets.”

  “Is Elvi the plural to Elvis? It’s genius.” I take out another bill and slide it over. “Would that do better?”

  The clerk gives me a deadpan stare and points over to the wall where I see a camera pointed at us, and I understand why she can’t accept the cash.

  After an hour of scoping out Elvises down the strip, Natasha spots one out of the corner of her eye. It’s a well-rounded ‘king’ that got her attention, but before we walk over, I have business to attend to.

  “This will only take a moment,” I say, opening the door to a jewelry store.

  Her eyes widen in surprise. She shakes her head back and forth aggressively. “No, there’s no need—”

  “I’m a Branson. Do you have any idea how embarrassing it would be if you weren’t seen with a ten-karat sparkler on your ring finger?”