Flash Marriage to the Playboy CEO

Snow was starting to fall as Quinn Ingram pulled into the hotel driveway. The crowd of reporters at the entrance stood in sharp contrast to the gloomy weather.

As soon as Carter Graham, Jacob Simmons's assistant, spotted her, he rushed over.

"Quinn? What are you doing here?"

Quinn, with her stunning, almost otherworldly beauty, had a knack for drawing attention without trying.

But her lack of smiles and no-nonsense attitude gave her an air of professionalism that kept people at a distance.

She peeled off her leather gloves with practiced calm.

"Where's Mr. Simmons?"

Carter hesitated, clearly uneasy.

"He's, uh... upstairs. In his room."

Without another word, Quinn walked past him and headed for the elevator.

At the door, she knocked sharply. A few moments later, it creaked open, revealing a young woman in her early twenties with red, puffy eyes.

The girl sniffled and glanced at Quinn, her voice soft and unsure.

"Are you here for Mr. Simmons? His... PR person?"

Quinn didn't bother with introductions, offering only a small nod before stepping inside.

The timing was impeccable-Jacob Simmons strolled out of the bathroom, a towel slung low around his hips. Droplets of water slid from his damp hair, tracing down his neck and disappearing under the towel. His natural charm was effortless, infuriatingly so.

He spotted Quinn immediately, a smirk curling at his lips. "Well, well. What a surprise."

Unfazed by his tone-or the fact that her husband of three months had just been caught in such a compromising situation-Quinn leveled him with her usual calm gaze.

"The situation downstairs is out of hand. Gossip reporters everywhere. Nobody else is willing to step in."

The dynamic between them was strange-cool, detached, yet oddly synchronized.

Carter, knew they were married. But it is not known to the public.

Jacob walked to the armchair and dropped into it, pulling a robe on lazily. Even then, it hung loosely, his collarbone still on display.

Lighting a cigarette, he exhaled slowly, his smirk deepening. "Find someone else to deal with it."

Ignoring him, Quinn shifted her attention to the girl standing awkwardly by the bed.

Quinn recognized her instantly. Piper Hayes. A fresh face under Simmons Media, infamous for using scandals to climb the ladder.

Recently, she'd made headlines after being called out by a director's wife on Facebook. Now, here she was, angling for another opportunity.

Piper fidgeted under Quinn's steady gaze but quickly recovered, batting her lashes.

"I mean, if the reporters are already here, maybe it's better if I just... admit it? You know, say Mr. Simmons and I are together. We can clear things up later when it blows over..."

Her intention was written all over her face-Piper wanted the publicity.

Before she could finish, Quinn's cold, clipped voice cut through. "I've already contacted your agent. They should be here by now. You're leaving."

Piper blinked, caught off guard.

"Leaving? But-"

"Yes," Quinn said firmly.

Walking past Piper, Quinn stopped in front of Jacob, plucked the cigarette from his lips, and stubbed it out.

"Mr. Simmons, your team is waiting next door for the meeting."

Jacob raised an eyebrow, his grin turning lazy.

"You've really thought this through, haven't you?"

Quinn didn't flinch.

"You've got five minutes. After that, hotel security will 'accidentally' let the reporters up."

They locked eyes for a few beats before Jacob chuckled softly, standing and heading for the door.

Piper gawked as he left without a second glance.

Quinn turned back to Piper, her tone sharper now.

"Still here?"

Piper swallowed hard, the commanding aura radiating from Quinn leaving no room for argument.

"But the reporters! If they see me-"

Quinn's response was as icy as ever.

"Your agent is taking you to a nearby shoot. A lipstick ad. You'll leave now."

Realizing there was no winning today, Piper grabbed her bag and scurried out.

Once the room was cleared, Quinn was ready to leave when her phone buzzed.

She answered without hesitation.

"Wesley."

Her voice carried no emotion as the commanding voice of Jacob's grandfather came through the line.

"Quinn. Bring Jacob home in thirty minutes."

"Yes," she replied simply, hanging up and heading downstairs.

Carter, who had been loitering in the lobby, watched her leave, nervously wiping the sweat off his brow.

Once outside, Quinn shot Jacob a text: Wesley wants us to go back home.

As usual, no response.

She didn't let it bother her and turned her focus to the day's entertainment headlines, confirming nothing about Jacob had leaked.

Lost in thought, she nearly jumped when the passenger door opened, and Jacob slid in. He had changed into a suit, though it was far from buttoned up. The open collar added to his devil-may-care attitude.

Quinn glanced at him briefly, but Jacob caught her looking, his voice teasing.

"See something you like, Quinn?"

His tone-deep, smooth, and magnetic-made her mind flicker back to that night. That one reckless, alcohol-fueled night.

"Quinn, that's it. Good girl."

"Relax, baby. You're gonna make me surrender."

The memory was fleeting, and Quinn quickly shoved it aside, her voice steady.

"We need to go back home."

Jacob leaned back, drumming his fingers on the window. "Fine."

As they drove, Quinn's phone buzzed again on the dashboard. Jacob glanced at the screen, catching the message preview.

Sawyer: "Quinn, does Jacob even satisfy you, or should I send someone over?

Jacob blinked.

Quinn, equally unimpressed, flipped the phone over, screen down, and kept driving.

Half an hour later, they arrived at the Simmons estate. Stepping out of the car, Jacob leaned in close, his voice low and dripping with mischief.

"Quinn, if you've got needs, you can always come to me, you know."

For a moment, silence hung in the air. Quinn turned to glance at the man beside her-lazy, charming, and entirely too smug.

Their eyes met. Jacob's smirk deepened, the glint in his eyes full of teasing. Quinn's expression didn't waver.

"No need. I'm not interested."

Without waiting for a reply, she turned and walked ahead, heels clicking confidently against the marble floor.

Jacob watched her retreating figure, the curve of his lips stretching into an even broader grin.

The two walked into the Simmons family estate together. They hadn't made it past the foyer when a teacup came hurtling toward them.

In one swift motion, Jacob pulled Quinn behind him. The cup hit him square in the chest before falling to the floor with a heavy clatter.

Hot tea soaked his shirt, steam rising from the damp fabric.

Behind him, Quinn pressed her lips into a thin line, as if holding back a comment. She stepped forward to inspect the damage, but Jacob caught her wrist and held her back.

"You little punk!" boomed a voice from the living room.

"All you ever do is mess around! Can't you go one day without causing trouble?"

Seated on the couch, Wesley Simmons, Jacob's seventy-two-year-old grandfather, gripped his cane with one hand, his expression thunderous.

Despite his age, Wesley's sharp eyes and commanding presence made him seem no older than sixty.

"First, there's talk about you and some model. Now, today, it's you and Piper getting caught at a hotel? When will you stop giving me headaches?"

Jacob, completely unfazed, unbuttoned the top two buttons of his now-soaked shirt and gave a lazy smile.

"Come on, Granddad. Didn't I just close that overseas acquisition deal for you yesterday?"

The mention of business clearly softened Wesley's temper. Though still gruff, his tone carried less bite.

"Let me see if you're burned," he barked, gesturing Jacob forward with his cane.

Jacob strolled over, hands in his pockets, his smile still in place. "Who's been tattling on me now, huh?"

Wesley, for all his bluster, doted on Jacob.

Over the years, he'd turned a blind eye to Jacob's scandals, and any punishment was usually more bark than bite.

As Jacob sat down, Wesley leveled a stern gaze at him.

"You're not a kid anymore. Start being more careful. Stop giving people something to talk about."

Satisfied he'd made his point, Wesley shifted his attention to Quinn.

"You handled today's situation well."

Quinn gave a polite nod.

"Thank you."

Wesley's tone softened.

"But, Quinn, you and Jacob need to put less energy into work and more into family. I want to see a great-grandchild by next year."

Quinn maintained her polite smile, though it didn't reach her eyes.

"Of course."

Excusing herself, she walked into the kitchen to help the staff with dinner preparations.

As soon as Quinn was out of earshot, Wesley's expression hardened again.

"Jacob," he began, his voice low, "what are you doing with her? If you don't care for her, just end it cleanly. Give her a settlement and let her go. Quinn grew up in front of me. She deserves better-"

Before Wesley could finish, Jacob leaned back, popped a grape into his mouth, and chewed leisurely.

"Granddad, do you prefer boys or girls?"

The unexpected question caught Wesley off guard.

"What?"

Jacob grinned lazily.

"Kids. Do you want a grandson or a granddaughter?"

Wesley's face lit up, his stern demeanor melting into delight. "You've finally come around? Planning to have a baby with Quinn?"

Jacob stretched his legs out, his tone light.

"Yeah. Why not?"

By the time Quinn returned from the kitchen, Jacob had Wesley laughing heartily, his earlier anger completely forgotten.

This, Quinn thought, was just typical Jacob. He could charm anyone-man or woman, young or old.

As dinner approached, the rest of the Simmons family began arriving.

Wesley's son, Zachariah Simmons, had three children: Patrick, the eldest; Jacob, the middle child; and Callie, the youngest. Patrick and Callie were born to Zachariah's current wife, Brielle, while Jacob was the son of Zachariah and his first love.

The family dynamics were a careful balance of harmony and pretense.

At dinner, Brielle, ever the picture of a devoted stepmother, fussed over Jacob.

"Jacob, you've been looking thin lately. Make sure you're eating properly."

Callie pouted.

"Mom, you always favor Jacob."

Brielle chuckled, her smile angelic.

"I don't have favorites, darling. I love all of you equally."

Patrick, ever the polished diplomat, added with a wry smile, "Mom's always been this way. Jacob gets the lion's share of her affection."

Jacob, indifferent to the family's theatrics, sipped his soup with a faint smirk, as if watching a play he'd seen too many times before.

After dinner, Quinn helped the staff clear the table. Callie, ever the spoiled youngest sibling, called out in her syrupy voice, "Quinn, could you slice me an orange later?"

Quinn replied without looking up, her voice steady.

"Sure."

Nearby, Jacob was on a phone call, standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows. He glanced at the exchange between Quinn and Callie but returned to his conversation.

"That person won't work. Find someone else."

Whatever the response was, Jacob's expression twisted into a sardonic smile.

"Figure it out yourself."

After hanging up, Jacob sauntered into the kitchen.

Quinn was washing dishes, a loose strand of hair falling over her face. Jacob reached over, brushing it back and loosely securing it.

"Granddad wants us to stay the night. What do you think?"

Quinn paused, her hands stilling under the faucet.

"Up to you."

Jacob leaned closer, his breath warm against her ear.

"Don't worry. I'll take the couch."

Quinn shifted away instinctively.

"Jacob, back off."

Jacob chuckled.

"What are you so afraid of?"

Quinn placed the dish on the drying rack and turned to face him. "Simmons Media's annual gala is next month. Try to avoid any scandals until then."

Jacob grinned, hands sliding into his pockets.

"And if I don't?"

Quinn frowned.

"Can't you at least try to be discreet?"

"That's asking a lot," he said with a playful shrug.

Quinn sighed, pushing him lightly.

"Suit yourself."

She walked upstairs without another word. Jacob's smile faded slightly as he glanced at one of the maids lingering nearby. "From now on, don't let her do any chores."

The maid stammered nervously, "But Mrs. Quinn insists on helping-"

"If she does it again," Jacob interrupted, his tone calm but firm, "you're fired."

The maid paled. "Yes, sir."

As Jacob left the kitchen, Patrick intercepted him, holding two glasses of wine.

"Jacob," he said smoothly.

Jacob's lips curled into a sardonic smile.

"What do you want?"

Patrick handed him a glass.

"Take better care of Quinn. She may seem strong, but she's fragile underneath."

Jacob swirled the wine in his glass, his gaze narrowing.

"Why I married her... You of all people should know the answer to that."

Jacob's nature was a paradox of reckless charm and sharp edges.

He never minced his words and didn't care to.

His blunt honesty often left no room for pleasantries.

Patrick's smile didn't falter when Jacob spoke, though the subtle tension in his jaw betrayed him.

Still, he feigned regret. "Jacob, believe me or not, but what happened was really just a misunderstanding. My mom and Callie had no idea Quinn couldn't hold her liquor."

Jacob drained the wine Patrick had handed him in one go, a lazy smirk playing on his lips.

"You know, from a distance, everyone looks so damn kind."

Patrick stiffened. "...."

Jacob handed the empty glass back, his grin widening as he clapped a hand on Patrick's shoulder.

Leaning in, he murmured, "You're afraid I'll come for the CEO position of Simmons Group, aren't you? Don't worry..."

After a beat, his voice dropped lower, almost a purr. "...I absolutely will."

Patrick kept his polished composure, replying with an easy smile, "Jacob, you've got it all wrong. If you want the CEO position, I won't stand in your way."

Jacob leaned back, the grin turning cocky.

"Good. Then why don't you go tell Granddad? I'm sure he'll be thrilled."

Patrick's grip on the empty wine glass tightened, the effort to maintain his serene facade visible in the flicker of frustration in his eyes.

Jacob chuckled softly, turning to head upstairs.

"And, Patrick? Drop the fake nice-guy act when you're talking to me. It's exhausting."

The moment Jacob disappeared up the stairs, Patrick's smile vanished.

From her perch in the corner, Callie had been watching the exchange like a hawk. When Jacob was out of sight, she hurried over.

"What did Jacob say to you? You look like you're about to explode."

Patrick yanked at his tie, irritation flashing across his face.

"He said he's going after the CEO position of Simmons Group."

Callie gasped.

"What? He told you that outright? Is he insane?"

Patrick's lips thinned.

"Oh, and he also made it clear he knows Quinn's little drunken episode was orchestrated by you and Mom."

Callie's pout shifted into a nonchalant shrug.

"So what if he knows? Mom only wanted to teach Quinn a lesson-make her stop chasing after you. How was she supposed to know..."

Her voice trailed off as realization dawned. Eyes wide, she clamped a hand over her mouth.

Patrick's expression darkened.

"What do you mean, Callie?"

Callie stammered, "I didn't say anything! It's late. I'm going to bed."

She turned to flee, but Patrick grabbed her wrist, his grip firm and unyielding.

"What. Did. You. Say?"

Callie hesitated, clearly intimidated. While Jacob's mischief was bold and brash, Patrick's calculated nature was far more unsettling. Even as his sister, she was wary of him.

Taking a deep breath, she mumbled, "Quinn had a thing for you. Mom was worried it would mess up your future alliances, so she... set her up. But-" She yanked her wrist free, massaging the reddened skin.

"It's not Mom's fault Quinn ended up in Jacob's room instead."

"Get out," Patrick growled through clenched teeth.

Callie froze, blinking at him in disbelief.

Patrick's voice rose, his frustration boiling over. "I said, GET OUT!"

Callie scurried away, her steps unsteady.

Meanwhile, Jacob had made his way back to his room.

He shrugged off his jacket, tossing it carelessly over a chair before sinking into the plush couch. The sound of water running in the bathroom filled the silence.

His gaze flickered toward the door as he leaned back, half-lost in thought.

Inside the bathroom, Quinn paused mid-shower, cursing under her breath. She'd forgotten to bring her clothes.

Wrapping a towel tightly around herself, she cracked the bathroom door.

"Jacob? Are you out there?"

When no response came, she peeked through the gap, spotting him seemingly asleep on the couch. Relieved, she padded barefoot across the room, quickly pulling a nightgown from the wardrobe before retreating back to the bathroom.

The second the door clicked shut, Jacob opened his eyes, his gaze catching the delicate curve of her ankle as she disappeared.

Moments later, Quinn emerged, freshly changed. Her gaze landed on Jacob, now wide awake and casually scrolling through his phone.

"You weren't asleep?" she asked, her tone incredulous.

Jacob's eyes sparkled with amusement as he looked up.

"What?"

Quinn inhaled sharply.

"If you weren't asleep, why didn't you answer me earlier?"

Propping his chin on his hand, he smirked.

"Did you call me? Must've missed it."

Quinn stared at him, clearly annoyed, but let it go, climbing into bed without another word.

Just as she was about to drift off, Jacob's phone buzzed loudly.

Without an ounce of discretion, Jacob answered the call, his voice low and smooth.

"Yeah?"

On the other end, a woman's flirtatious tone rang out.

"Jacob, come out and play!"

His grin turned lazy.

"Miss me already?"

"Ugh, stop teasing. Are you coming or not?"

Jacob's voice dropped another octave.

"Can't. I'm stuck at the family estate tonight."

He paused, then added with a chuckle, "Spending time with my wife."

The sharp click of the woman hanging up was almost comical.

No sooner had he ended the call than Quinn's phone started ringing.

She glanced at the screen. Remi Lopez.

Remi Lopez, Jacob's true childhood sweetheart.

If it weren't for that incident, the title of Mrs. Simmons should have belonged to her.

Quinn sighed, debating whether to let it ring out, but Remi was relentless. One call after another lit up the screen until Quinn finally gave in.

"Hello, Miss Lopez," she greeted coolly.

The response was immediate and fiery.

"Quinn, you did this on purpose, didn't you? Bringing Jacob back to the estate on my birthday!"

"..."

"Don't play dumb! Let him go! Send him out now!"

"Sorry," Quinn replied evenly. "That's not going to happen."

"You-! Quinn, don't push me, you-"

Before Remi could finish, the phone was snatched out of Quinn's hand.

She looked up to find Jacob standing at her bedside, his shirt partially unbuttoned, a devil-may-care smirk on his face.

"Stop being ridiculous," he said, his voice firm.

On the other end, Remi's tone softened. "It's my birthday, Jacob."

Jacob's gaze flicked briefly to Quinn, lingering on her bare shoulder before he replied, "Happy birthday."