Her Reluctant Wife: A Lesbian Age Gap Romance (Arranged to Love Book 2) Read online

  Her Reluctant Wife

  A Lesbian Age Gap Romance

  (Arranged to Love Book 2)

  Alexa Woods

  © 2022 Alexa Woods

  All Rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may

  not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without

  the express permission of the publisher except for the use of

  brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to

  persons, living or dead, or places, events or locations is purely

  coincidental. The characters are all productions of the author’s

  imagination.

  Please note that this work is intended only for adults over the

  age of 18 and all characters represented as 18 or over.

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  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Epilogue

  Also by Alexa Woods

  About Alexa Woods

  Chapter 1

  Coralyn

  “Your father doesn’t have much time left, I’m afraid.”

  Coralyn knew the truth of it, but the words still stabbed at

  her like a thousand shards of glass embedding under her skin.

  The nurse who was on shift was young. Pretty. Blonde.

  Probably found her job depressing as hell. She couldn’t be

  more than twenty-five, and she was standing outside Samuel

  Anderson’s hospital room, waiting for Coralyn like a sentinel

  to deliver the bad news. She wasn’t stoic about it. She wore a

  grimace mixed with pity and compassion. It was the perfect

  recipe to hit Coralyn straight in the gut. She couldn’t catch her

  breath and she had to double over and put a hand out on the

  wall.

  “Oh my gosh, I’m sorry.” Gentle hands on her back,

  massaging through her heavy wool sweater. She was suddenly

  too hot, her heartbeat one giant screaming sound in her ears,

  blood pumping too fast. The walls were closing in. The ceiling

  was caving in on her. The whole building was falling in

  around them.

  Except that when she opened her eyes, she was still in the

  too sterile, too white hallway. The smell of bleach was potent

  in her nose. The kind eyes of the young nurse, a warm hazel,

  floated into view.

  “I’m really sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t have told you. Maybe I

  should have gotten the doctor to—”

  “No.” It hurt like hell to stand up straight. Coralyn’s whole

  body felt wobbly.

  She thought about her mom, Cora, which she often did

  when she needed to be strong. She thought about her grandma

  too. Her mom’s mom, Lynn, was the strongest woman that her

  mother knew. She died before Coralyn was born, but she’d

  passed on the greatest treasures she could. Memories. Family

  photos. Heirlooms. And a combination of their names. Strong

  names from strong women.

  “No, thank you for telling me. I need to know. I want to be

  prepared.”

  “He’s had a difficult day. His breathing was really labored.”

  Panic shot through Coralyn. She’d take time off, even

  though she needed her job. She’d damn well quit if that’s what

  she had to do. If they wouldn’t give her time off to be with her

  father this week, then she didn’t need to work for those

  assholes, no matter how badly she needed to survive.

  “I’ll go sit with him now. Thank you for everything you’ve

  done.”

  “Yeah. It’s my pleasure.” The nurse gave Coralyn’s shoulder

  a gentle squeeze before she walked down the hall. She grabbed

  a clipboard off the door down the way and then knocked

  before entering another room. Another patient. Someone else

  waiting to die. It was the palliative wing, after all.

  Coralyn gathered her courage and made sure that her panic

  didn’t show on her face before she slipped into her father’s

  room. The whole thing smelled clean and fresh, like there was

  new life inside, not an old man waiting to pass into the next

  life. He called it that. The next life. Coralyn didn’t know what

  to think about it. She didn’t want to think about it. She’d

  thought about it endlessly after her mom died, and now she

  was losing her dad as well.

  At twenty-two, she was going to be an orphan.

  “Dad?” The curtains at the window were closed, but there

  was no sunlight left anyway. February in Chicago meant cold

  days that turned dark before most people were even home

  from their workday.

  “Coralyn.” Her dad was propped up in bed with several

  pillows. The TV in the corner of the room was turned off and

  he had a book open on his lap that he hadn’t been reading. His

  eyes were closed when she came in, but now he opened them

  with difficulty, pulling himself back to the present in order to

  be with her. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

  She grabbed a chair and dragged it to her dad’s bedside. The

  rails were up, caging him in. She’d become numb to all the

  tubes, wires, and beeping machinery a long time ago. They

  were the sounds of life. They were the sounds of dying.

  Coralyn took her father’s hand, thin and bruised, the skin

  sallow and the bones sticking out. She pretended not to notice.

  She swallowed back the acid that climbed up her throat and

  the sorrow that tugged her heart into a slow, sluggish beat that

  hurt with every pulse.

  “I’m glad I’m here too.”

  “How was work?” Her dad struggled with each word, his

  breathing indeed more labored than it usually was. She hated

  that he was fighting for air. Fighting for the very thing that

  should come naturally.

  “It was fine.” She wanted to ask him about his day, but she

  was scared to. She didn’t want him to have to talk if it was a

  struggle, and it appeared so painful. She left it at that and let

  silence fall between them. She was happy just to sit with her

  dad. She made sure that every second, every moment, even

  now, was something she stored away to cherish later.

  Her dad wheezed in the silence, and then he clutched her

  hand a little tighter. “I’m ready, you know. When it happens.”

  No! You might be ready, but I’m not ready. You can’t go
yet.

  I can’t lose you. I don’t know what I’m going to do without

  you. She blinked back tears and choked back a sob.

  “Sweetheart. We’ve known this was coming for a long

  time.” Her dad’s thumb stroked the back of her hand.

  “I know.” Cancer was so mean. It took her dad’s vitality, his

  life, their life. It had squeezed out everything and plunged

  them from living a good life into poverty and despair. “It just

  went so fast.” It sounded callous. She regretted the words

  immediately. The past three years hadn’t been fast. They’d

  been agonizing. Her dad had fought so hard. He’d been so

  brave throughout all the pain and the suffering and the horror

  that was the disease and the treatment both. He’d hung on for

  her, she knew that he had.

  The wheezing deepened. Her dad struggled, gathering his

  strength because there was something he wanted to say to her.

  She hoped it wouldn’t be the last thing. “My darling. You’re so

  beautiful. So smart. I don’t want to leave you all alone in the

  world, but you’re going to be fine. I’m sorry to leave you like

  this. I’m sorry that we had to sell—”

  “We made that choice together.” What hadn’t they sold?

  What more wouldn’t she have given up if she could make her

  dad healthy and well again and give them more time?

  “I would give anything for you to have your mother’s

  necklace back.”

  Her dad had been a jeweller. He’d call himself just a regular

  person, but the pieces he made were so unique and inspired

  and beautiful, crafted with expertise that he’d learned from his

  father, who had been taught by his father before him, that his

  work garnered major attention and soon he was crafting pieces

  for the rich and elite.

  When he found out he was sick, the insurance company

  denied his claim and he couldn’t work. Even in the midst of all

  the turmoil, Coralyn knew what that meant for them. They’d

  lose the house and everything in it. She’d been taking a full

  course load at college, but she’d switched to night classes and

  worked full time during the day. They’d had to sell things that

  weren’t vital or necessary, redundant things that weren’t so

  redundant, in order to pay the medical bills.

  And then things got worse. They lost the business, which

  meant losing everything else. The house only had a small

  amount of equity in it, and the vehicles hadn’t brought in

  much money because they were too new and on payment.

  They’d sold everything from her designer bags and shoes to

  the furniture in the house, and then, when all that was gone

  and they were living in a small apartment, driving a crappy car

  that sometimes didn’t even want to start, they’d begun selling

  off her dad’s personal pieces. The money didn’t last. Tests,

  treatments, medication, it was all so expensive.

  They’d agreed together to sell the pieces they couldn’t bear

  to part with when it was clear it was time. Her mother’s

  necklace went last.

  It was a special piece, remade and redesigned every year on

  their anniversary. Her dad gave it to her mom at their wedding

  and every year after that, he took it back and crafted it into

  something new. After twenty-five years of marriage, the

  necklace had become something elaborate, cherished, and

  worth a lot of money.

  It had been advertised with an auction house, and Coralyn

  knew the name of the woman who bought it, because that was

  stipulated at the sale, that it would be public. Her dad had

  insisted, as if one day, she might be able to find whoever

  bought it and buy it back. She knew it would never happen,

  but because of that stipulation, Coralyn knew the name: Giana

  Thompson.

  Coralyn had done a few online searches after the sale. Giana

  was some crazy rich lady who owned a real estate

  development company in the city. She was powerful, richer

  than God. She collected things. Artwork. Sculptures. Rare and

  interesting pieces from around the world. Jewellery.

  It was the sale of that necklace that was paying for her

  father to be in this room right now. She would so rather have

  had him at home, but a private nurse was even more

  expensive, and he’d insisted that the hospital was fine. They

  both knew the apartment wasn’t home. Their house, the place

  where they’d been a family before Coralyn’s mom died in a

  car accident, was long gone.

  The rattle of her dad’s breathing brought her back to the

  present. “It’s okay, Dad.” Coralyn’s chest was on fire. The ring

  she wore on the simple gold chain around her neck, her

  mother’s engagement ring, seemed to pulse against her skin,

  but it was probably just her heartbeat thrumming at the hollow

  of her throat.

  “It’s not okay. I’d really give anything for you to have that

  back.”

  Coralyn raised her dad’s hand and kissed the back of it.

  “Mom would understand. We did what we had to do. She

  loved you and she would have wanted you to have the best

  care possible. Selling it made this a reality. It gave us another

  year together. You can’t put a price on that.”

  Her dad acted like he hadn’t heard her. He stared up at her

  face, his eyes huge and welling with tears that broke her heart.

  “It was your mother’s favorite thing. She treasured it above

  everything else. If there was one thing she would have wanted

  you to pass down, it would have been that. And now it’s

  gone.”

  That necklace had been crafted and designed from passion

  and intimacy and the kind of love that few people ever found.

  And now it was sitting in some stranger’s house. A woman

  who looked at it and could never appreciate it past its real

  value and beauty. She probably knew the story behind it, but

  that didn’t mean she’d really be able to understand what it

  meant. Did she ever wear it? The thought of it adorning

  another person’s neck made Coralyn feel ill. She hadn’t

  thought about it before. She’d only thought about the necessity

  of having to sell it, and then she’d made herself not think

  about it again.

  “I’ll always have the memories of you and Mom.” She

  leaned over the bed and stroked her dad’s forehead. “That’s

  what matters.”

  She wasn’t used to seeing him this way. Shrunken. Sick. His

  skin so white. He didn’t look like the father who raised her.

  That man was robust and healthy and brimming with life.

  Always, always ready with laughter and love. He still laughed

  and loved, but he was a shell of himself. It was so hard for her.

  She didn’t want to think about him like this. God, it hurt so

  much.

  “Sweetheart, I’d do anything to get it back for you.” This

  was important to her dad. Maybe even his dying wish.

  She kept stroking his forehead until he fell into a light sleep.

  His chest rose and fell with a little more ease when he wasn’t
r />   awake. Coralyn took hold of his hand and fell back into the

  chair. The weight of true defeat crashed over her, and now she

  was the one who couldn’t breathe. Her chest refused to

  cooperate. She was in agony. Her entire body was on fire. Was

  this what grief felt like? A pain you couldn’t begin to

  understand how to bear?

  What if she could get that necklace, even for a day? She’d

  give her dad peace. He could go easily then. Rest easy.

  Fuck, how am I even thinking this? I don’t want him to rest

  easy. I don’t want him to rest at all. I don’t want him to go. I’m

  not ready.

  Did people rent out jewellery? That seemed more of a

  company thing, not something that individual people did.

  But this woman, this Giana Thompson, was a

  businesswoman. She lived here, in Chicago. She had to have

  an office somewhere, which meant she had to be somewhat

  accessible. Maybe Coralyn could set up a meeting with her.

  She’d pull whatever strings she had to. If her dad really was on

  his last week, or, God forbid, even his last few days, she had a

  bit of money left. Would this woman agree if Coralyn

  explained everything? Would she rent her the necklace for a

  few hours? Or would she just, out of the goodness of heart, let

  Coralyn borrow it for an afternoon?

  She’d tell her dad that she’d gone to Giana and explained

  everything and that she’d sold it back to her for a price she

  could afford. She’d tell him that she’d given it to her out of the

  goodness of her heart. As a fucking tax write-off. As a

  charitable donation. She would paint a story that her dad

  would believe.

  He wouldn’t believe it unless he could see it again. Touch

  that necklace. To him, that was the last piece he had of

  Coralyn’s mom. Their love was something deep and profound

  and it had nearly killed him when she died. He’d lost a part of

  himself that he’d never get back, and selling the necklace was

  losing the rest.

  Coralyn didn’t know how or what was possible, but she

  knew she’d do everything in her power to make her dad’s last

  wish a reality.

  Chapter 2

  Coralyn

  After calling Thompson Surety Enterprises, the

  development company that Giana Thompson was CEO and

  owner of, Coralyn had pled her case with the smug admin