14. Reagan

Chapter 14

Reagan

T he expensive restaurant buzzes with life as I step inside, the dim lighting casting shadows across the sea of faces. My gaze sweeps over the room, searching for Penn.

My loving husband.

I’m doing my part, showing up to meet his brothers. I hope he plays nice because I doubt they know he married me while I was unconscious. I spot them at a large table near the back, their boisterous laughter adding to the atmosphere. His brothers are nearly as big as Penn is, and they look just as full of themselves as him, too. They probably do know he drugged me and is holding me hostage. As I confidently stride over, my combat boots clicking against the floor, I catch Penn’s hazel eyes glued to me. A playful smirk dances on my lips, and he grins in response, adjusting his baseball cap with a casual flip of his hand. Everyone else in this restaurant is dressed to the nines, but clearly the dress code does not apply to the Blackwoods.

“Look who finally decided to grace us with her presence,” Penn drawls, his voice smooth and teasing. “You’re late, Reagan.”

“Me? Late?” I feign shock, eyes widening dramatically. “That’s because I didn’t want to come.” The sarcasm drips from my words, and the others chuckle.

“That makes two of us,” one of Penn’s brothers chimes in, raising his glass in mock salute.

“Shut up, Lincoln.” The meanest looking one says and never lifts his eyes to look at me. The feeling’s mutual, Oscar.

“Let’s just get this over with as painlessly as possible,” I quip back, sliding into the empty seat next to Penn. The leather of my jacket creaks softly as I settle in, and I hope the scent of my perfume irritates his soul.

Penn names everyone at the table like he’s a kindergartener naming off his bestest friends in all the land. I greet all three of his brothers with a nod. My gaze flicks to the two Blackwood girlfriends, Iris and Oakley, who sit together between Lincoln and Jeremiah.

“Reagan, it’s nice to meet you,” Iris replies with a warm smile, her dark curls cascading around her shoulders like a waterfall. She looks like a smart girl, and I don’t know how the brute of a guy with his arm around her back manipulated her into falling in love with him. Oakley merely offers me a small nod, her eyes guarded like she feels very protective of everyone at this table. She’s the smallest one and arguably the sweetest looking here, but she gives me the vibe that she’s not as innocent as she presents herself.

Graham doesn’t acknowledge me at all. He’s hunched over his phone at the end of the table, completely engrossed in whatever’s on the screen. My earlier thought was correct. He’s definitely Oscar the Grouch.

“Something interesting?” I ask, leaning forward slightly to catch his eye.

“Breaking news.” Graham’s voice is tense as he lifts his head, locking eyes with me before turning his attention to Penn. “Two houses in Compass Pointe Estates just burned down.”

The table goes silent, and everyone’s gazes shift to Penn, suspicion flickering in their eyes. I can practically feel the tension mounting in the air, my own heart skipping a beat as I wait for his response.

“Really?” Penn asks, feigning innocence. “Not every fire is my handiwork.”

“Come on, Penn,” Lincoln chides, his brow furrowing. “You’ve got to admit, it’s usually you.”

“Maybe,” Penn smirks. “Regardless,” Penn says, cutting through the silence, “this evening is supposed to be about my lovely wife.”

“Right,” Iris agrees, her eyes still flicking between Penn and me. “How did you two meet?”

“And are you under duress?” Oakley adds, trying very hard to keep the laughter out of her voice. She knows Penn well, it seems.

“Of course…” I murmur under my breath. “…not.”

“Everyone around Penn is under duress at all times,” Graham grumbles, setting his phone down with a sigh. “This is a dumb idea and all of you know it, so I want it on record that I don’t condone any of it.”

I can’t help but roll my eyes as Penn flashes a mischievous grin, casually dismissing the accusation. “Arson, taking a hostage for a wife, what else are you guys going to accuse me of?” His long leg stretches out under the table, nudging mine playfully. I can feel the heat of his touch even through the fabric of my jeans, the sensation sending sparks up my spine.

“Careful listing all your felonies publicly,” I warn, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “We wouldn’t want you to incriminate yourself further.”

Penn chuckles, clearly enjoying the banter. “Oh, come on, Rae Rae. You should know by now that I’m far more subtle than that.”

“Subtle?” I snort, unable to help myself. “You’re about as subtle as a sledgehammer.”

“Ouch,” he feigns hurt, placing a hand over his heart dramatically. “You wound me, hellfire.”

“Speaking of wounding,” I lean in, lowering my voice so that only he can hear. “I’ve been meaning to ask. Aren’t we technically not legal since we haven’t consummated our marriage? Or did we, when I was unconscious?”

A wicked smile curls at the corner of his lips, his eyes darkening with mischief. “Are you asking me to fuck you, Mrs. Blackwood ?”

“Answer the question, Mr. Blackwood .” I raise a challenging eyebrow, refusing to back down.

“Hellfire,” he purrs, leaning closer, his breath hot against my ear. “I can assure you that when we finally consummate this marriage, there will be no doubt in your mind that it has happened.”

My cheeks flush at his words, warmth pooling deep within me as I imagine just what he might mean. But I refuse to let him see how much he affects me, pushing back my own desires in favor of maintaining control. I lean away from him, a sly grin on my face as I tease, “Promises, promises.”

“Trust me,” he murmurs, his voice low and seductive. “I always deliver on my promises. ”

“Is that so?” I challenge, locking my eyes with his.

“Absolutely,” Penn confirms, his gaze never leaving mine. “And when the time comes, I guarantee you won’t be disappointed.”

“Bold words, Blackwood,” I warn, my heart pounding in my chest. “I was born disappointed in everyone and everything.”

Lincoln clears his throat loudly, interrupting our charged exchange. “Hold up, hold up,” he interjects, leaning forward with a mischievous glint in his eye. “Are you two seriously telling me that you haven’t fucked yet?”

My eyes widen at his bluntness, a surprised laugh escaping my lips. Penn, on the other hand, seems unfazed, merely shrugging his broad shoulders.

“Not that it’s any of your business, brother,” Penn drawls, his tone dripping with condescension. “But no, we haven’t…yet.”

“Unbelievable,” Lincoln scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief. “What, are you waiting for the fucking honeymoon or something?”

I can’t help but snort at that, rolling my eyes. “Please, like I’d ever go on a honeymoon with this asshole.”

Lincoln leans back in his chair, a shit-eating grin on his face. “Seriously though, what’s the hold up? I mean, look at you two. The sexual tension is so thick I could cut it with a knife.”

I watch Penn, as he leans back in his chair, looking every bit the cocky athlete that he is. “Well,” he announces to the whole table, eyes glinting with mischief, “since I’m just announcing shit left and right lately...” My heart races, wondering what he could possibly reveal.

“I’m a virgin,” he declares boldly. The room falls silent for a heartbeat before his brothers burst into laughter. Even I can’t help but chuckle at the absurdity of it all. But as the seconds tick by and Penn doesn’t waver, their laughter slowly dies down, replaced by disbelief.

“Wait, you’re serious?” Lincoln gapes at his brother, while Jeremiah and Graham exchange incredulous glances.

“Dead serious,” Penn confirms, his expression uncharacteristically open. It’s as if he’s daring us to challenge him, to question him.

“What the fuck?” Lincoln blurts out, his curiosity getting the better of him. Iris elbows him in the ribs, silently reprimanding him for being rude to his brother. “I mean…” he starts and then broods down at her for a long moment before saying, “no I literally mean, what in the actual fuck?”

Penn shrugs nonchalantly. “I just never wanted to,” he replies, as if it’s the simplest thing in the world. But I know better; there must be more to it than that. So much of who Penn is revolves around breaking boundaries, pushing limits, testing the waters of convention. It seems almost impossible that he would choose abstinence for no reason at all.

“Really?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady. “You are an unapologetic arsonist, but sex is too big of a commitment?” I can’t help but think of the way Penn toys with people, manipulates situations for his own amusement. It’s hard to imagine that he wouldn’t apply that same twisted curiosity to sex.

“Of course I’ve been curious,” he admits, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “But like I said, I never wanted to. Besides, it’s more fun to watch people try to figure me out.”

“But what about literally everyone on campus that you’ve picked up?” Jeremiah asks incredulously. “I mean, hell, even Wes at the junkyard. ”

Penn just shrugs, a devilish smirk playing on his lips. “Yeah, I get blowjobs. Mouth holes are a glorious thing.”

My jaw nearly drops at his brazen admission. The mental image of Penn getting his dick sucked by countless people flashes unbidden through my mind. I hate that it turns me on a little, picturing his strong hands gripping some faceless person’s hair as they kneel before him, worshiping his cock with their tongue.

“So, you’re saying...” Lincoln begins slowly, working it out. “Your virgin dick has been in mad mouths, but never a pussy or an ass?”

“Got it in one, bro,” Penn winks salaciously.

“Dude, that’s kind of fucking genius,” Lincoln guffaws. “All the pleasure, none of the clingy bitches trying to lock you down after.”

Iris smacks his arm hard. “Watch it, asshole. This ‘clingy bitch’ can still dump your sorry ass.”

“And deprive you of all this?” Lincoln gestures lewdly to his crotch with a thrust of his hips. “Angel, you’d never.”

Oakley fake gags. “Can we please stop talking about Penn’s sexual habits in graphic detail? I’m losing my appetite over here.”

“What’s wrong, little Ashford?” Penn goads her. “Too much for your delicate sensibilities?”

Jeremiah glares at him in warning. “Watch it, Penn. That’s my girl you’re talking to.” Oakley grabs her drink, holding it up as if she thinks Jeremiah might flip the table trying to reach Penn. I realize as this thought passes through my mind that I’m probably not far off. I’d be willing to bet he’s a table flipper.

“Yeah, we all know she’s your girl, Jerry.” Penn rolls his eyes. “You’ve only pissed a circle around her a thousand times.”

“I do not—!” Jeremiah sputters indignantly.

“You kinda do, pretty boy,” Oakley pats his arm consolingly.

The brothers continue sniping back and forth, but I tune them out, my mind still reeling.

I squeeze my thighs together under the table, trying to relieve the ache building between my legs. Goddamn Penn Blackwood and his filthy fucking mouth. I should have known a virgin kink would do it for me. The most experienced at being inexperienced.

There’s a moment where I almost forget the fucked-up situation I am in. My gaze flickers from Penn to Iris and Oakley, who are shifting uncomfortably in their seats with a shared unease.

“Everything okay?” I ask them, my brow furrowing as I notice their tense body language.

“I just saw Mr. Blackwood’s car pull up to the valet,” Iris mutters, casting a nervous glance toward the entrance.

“You’re in for a real treat. Your father-in-law is a super fun time,” Oakley adds with an anxious laugh that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

As if summoned by the mere mention of his name, Mr. Blackwood strides into the restaurant, his cold gaze sweeping over the room before settling on our table. A shiver runs down my spine, and I can’t help but feel like a lamb surrounded by wolves. But this lamb has teeth.

“Evening, everyone,” he greets us, his voice as smooth as ice. He takes his seat at the head of the table, radiating an aura of power and control that sends another chill through me. He reminds me of my dad, which is never a good thing .

“Nice of you to join us, Robert. Just how did you find out about this dinner?” Penn says, his tone casual as he twirls a fork in his hand.

“Now, son. I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Mr. Blackwood replies with a tight smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

As the conversation around the table resumes, I can feel my heart pounding in my chest. I glance at Iris and Oakley, who offer me weak smiles, clearly still on edge themselves. I don’t know what Mr. Blackwood has planned or how this night will unfold, but one thing is certain: I won’t let him intimidate me or anyone else at this table.

I look back at Penn, whose hand now rests protectively on my thigh beneath the tablecloth. He gives me a reassuring squeeze, as if sensing my thoughts, which takes me way off guard more so than any of his other antics.

“Whatever happens tonight, I’ll handle it,” he assures me, his fingers tracing small circles on my thigh. Does he think I’m so starved for affection that the smallest show of care will have me folding for him?

“Have you handled things with… this one?” Mr. Blackwood demands, his ice-cold gaze zeroing in on me. The question hangs heavy in the air, thick with insinuation and threat. Ah, so Daddy Blackwood was behind my forced marriage of utter inconvenience.

Penn doesn’t miss a beat, unfazed by his father’s menacing aura. He takes my hand, lifting it to showcase my wedding ring, and confidently states, “It’s been handled.”

“Is that so?” Mr. Blackwood replies, his voice dripping with skepticism. It’s clear he’s testing our resolve, trying to exploit any cracks in our united front .

“Would you expect anything less from me?” Penn retorts, his tone daring his father to challenge him further.

I take a deep breath, willing myself to maintain my composure despite the tension clawing at my chest.

“Interesting,” Mr. Blackwood muses, his eyes narrowing as if attempting to decipher some hidden meaning between the two. It’s like they speak their own language in silence and that fucking terrifies me more than anything else that Penn has done. “Well then, I suppose congratulations are in order.”

“Thank you,” I shoot back, my voice laced with sarcasm. “Your approval means the world to us.”

“Watch your tongue, Miss St. Pierre,” Mr. Blackwood warns, his voice as sharp as a knife.

“Or what?” I challenge, tilting my chin up defiantly. “Why is it that my father is so important to you? Does he have something on you? I literally just want to be left alone; I have no intention of uttering the name Blackwood even if someone tries to waterboard it out of me. It would be more pleasant than whatever this is.” I hold my hand up and pull on my ring, showing him the spikes that won’t allow it to slide off, trying my hardest not to wince. I suspect Mr. Blackwood will pounce if he smells blood.

“I’ll handle it,” Penn murmurs warningly, squeezing my hand beneath the table. Something about Mr. Blackwood ignites a spark of rebellion within me, urging me to push back against his authority.

“Enough,” Mr. Blackwood snaps, his patience wearing thin.

“Is it enough? My whole life signed away because your dipshit sons don’t know the meaning of discrete. Who does that in public?” I reply, my voice a honeyed venom. “Wouldn’t want to disappoint Daddy Dearest now, would we? ”

“ Wife ,” Penn whispers again, the low rumble of his voice sending a shiver down my spine. I can feel his concern, yet I also sense the smoldering arousal simmering beneath the surface.

“Fine,” I relent, meeting Penn’s gaze for a brief moment before turning back to Mr. Blackwood. “We’ll play nice, won’t we, psycho? And if we want to be technical, Mr. Blackwood…my name isn’t St. Pierre. It’s fucking Blackwood.”