Hating My New Husband

by B. B. Hamel

  She takes a breath, lets it out. “This is crazy.”

  “Six million,” I say, meeting her gaze.

  “Eight,” she whispers.

  I grin. “Done.”

  She shakes her head. I walk toward her, take her hand. She lets me steer her back to her chair and she slowly sinks down into it.

  “You’ll be my wife, and you’ll help me stay in the country legally,” I say softly as I kneel down in front of her.

  She stares at me like I’m insane. “Right,” she manages. “Your wife.”

  I reach into my pocket and take out the little box I had in there just for this moment. Heart pounding, I flip it open.

  “Consider this the down payment.” I take the ring and slip it onto her finger. Half a million dollars’ worth of diamonds glitter in the light.

  She can’t take her eyes off them.

  “It… fits.”

  “Of course it does,” I whisper, coming closer to her. I can smell her shampoo, the soap on her skin. I want to rip open her top, feel her breasts, shove open her legs, ravage her pussy. I’m throbbing with need for her body and I can barely hold myself back.

  But she turns her head away, biting her lip.

  “It’s too much,” she says, breaking the spell.

  I stand and go back to my seat behind the desk. “It’s perfect,” I say. “My wife wouldn’t get anything less. Now, we should discuss the details.”

  She manages to meet my gaze again. “Details?”

  “Right. We need to discuss how we met, how long we’ve been dating, all of that information.” I hesitate a moment. “Plus, we need to establish the rules.”

  “Rules?”

  I grin. “Right. How often do we kiss? Hold hands? Sleep in the same bed?” I lean toward her, eyes locked on hers. “Fuck?”

  She blinks and recoils. “We don’t fuck,” she says, a little too loudly.

  I laugh softly. I love her discomfort. “We don’t have to, but I think you’d be making a mistake if you took it off the table completely.”

  “No sex,” she says quickly. “No touching unless we’re in public and we have to pretend.”

  I sigh. “That’s not very fun.”

  “We’re keeping this professional.” She draws herself up, and I’m suddenly impressed. She looks fucking sexy when she’s getting down to business. “This is a business arrangement. It’s just a job for me. I’ll do what I have to do to make it work, but… nothing past that. Okay?”

  I sigh. I’m disappointed, but not surprised.

  And anyway, it’s not like this is going to stop me.

  “Fine,” I say.

  “Good.” She clears her throat. “As for the back story, you can come up with it.”

  I raise my eyebrow. “I was thinking you were a stripper and couldn’t control yourself when you felt my big, rock hard—”

  “Okay, maybe I should have some input.”

  I shrug. “If you want. But the part about how I lick your—”

  “Okay, okay, I get it. You’re a perv.”

  “Not a perv, just imaginative.”

  “Whatever. All you can do is stare at my chest and think about sleeping with your wife. I’m not an idiot.”

  I grin at her. “I know you aren’t. It’s why I chose you.” I lean toward her. “And I’m not trying to hide what I want to do with you.”

  She bites her lip. “Why are you doing this, Davis? I mean… why me?”

  “I told you. It makes sense.”

  “There are plenty of other women who could fill this role just as easily.”

  “But none that knew me when we were younger. You do remember, don’t you?”

  She glares at me. “I remember a young cocky asshole that I could barely stand.”

  I laugh softly. “And I remember a young, sexy woman that was too stuck-up for her own good.”

  She glares at me and all at once, I can see the old Carly.

  Headstrong, beautiful, smart. I fucked things up back then, ruined what I could’ve had with her, all because I didn’t understand what she felt for me. And when I finally realized it, there was no going back.

  “I remember your tongue in my best friend’s mouth,” she says softly. “And I remember you bragging to me about it for weeks.”

  I wince and look away.

  It’s true. I hooked up with her best friend at the time. I didn’t know Carly was into me, to be fair. We’d been friends for a while, ever since we both showed up for the first day of boarding school at the George School.

  It was instant friendship. And instant attraction. But she always acted like she was too cool for me, too cool for everyone. I was hanging out, kissing girls, having fun, and she was studying and watching films and memorizing monologues.

  Things were good, we were close. Up until I hooked up with her friend. And bragged about it.

  Our friendship died out pretty fast after that. I’ve always regretted the way I let that fizzle, and I never really understood it, either.

  I didn’t get why she gave a shit if I hooked up with her friend.

  Now though, now I have a second chance to get what I want.

  I just have to make her stop hating me first.

  “Yeah, well. We were kids.” I shrug a little. “What can I say, we all did stupid stuff.”

  She makes a face and looks away.

  I linger in that silence for a second before clearing my throat.

  “Okay. I’ll have my lawyer draw up the papers. You go over it, sign it, and then…” I trail off.

  She meets my gaze again. “And then we get married.” She looks down at the ring on her finger.

  “That’s right. You become my wife and then I make you rich as hell.”

  “Rich as hell,” she whispers. “No more debt.”

  “Freedom. That’s what I’m offering.”

  “Freedom,” she echoes.

  I grin at her, but as she looks away, I know what she’s thinking.

  My version of freedom looks a lot like a prison.

  I know that. I can’t pretend otherwise.

  But this is going to be the best prison imaginable, if only she can learn to get over herself and give herself over to me.

  3

  Carly

  The next day is a blur of confusion.

  At exactly six in the morning, a huge stack of papers is delivered by courier. I answer the door of my little apartment on the third floor of a row home with a frown.

  “Carly?” the kid asks me.

  “Yeah?”

  He thrusts a stack of papers into my chest. “Enjoy,” he says as he speeds off down the hall, probably out to his next delivery.

  I stand there, dumbfounded, before dropping the papers on my kitchen table. A minute later, my phone rings.

  “Sign the end, initial every page,” Davis says to me.

  “How’d you get my number?”

  “It’s on your resume,” he says, laughing.

  “Oh. Right.”

  “The contract is airtight and it includes all of the provisions we spoke about yesterday.”

  The memory of the day before drifts back to me. Sitting in that room, negotiating a marriage with that gorgeous asshole…

  “Are you there?” he asks.

  “I’m here. It’s going to take a while.”

  “You have two hours. A car will be there by eight to bring you to my office.”

  “Where we met yesterday?”

  He laughs. “That was my Philly house. No, you’re coming to Bison’s office to meet my staff and to announce our engagement. Wear something sexy.”

  “To your office?” I ask, head spinning.

  “Okay, fine. Dress appropriately. But wear something sexy underneath.”

  I call him an asshole but he already hung up.

  I spend the next hour signing frantically to give myself enough time to get ready. It occurs to me that he wants me to speed through this, but I have to trust him, at least a little bit

&nbs
p; Not entirely though. Never entirely.

  Never again.

  I hesitate over one provision toward the end. The Signee pledges to do everything in her power to please the Party, including but not limited to, massaging, cooking, cleaning, other Wifely duties, listening, laughing, spending time, hugging, holding hands, and so forth.

  I sigh, but I sign.

  Over and over like that, I sign. Little clauses pop out to me, little things that make me think I’m making a huge mistake, but that number hovers in my mind: eight million dollars.

  And the ring on my finger. Five hundred thousand.

  A down payment for my services.

  I stare at the ring when I finish the last page with forty-five minutes to spare. I haven’t taken it off, even though it feels weird on my finger.

  I’m his fiancée. And this is my engagement ring.

  Fake. It’s all fake.

  I stand, shake my head, and take a shower, trying not to picture all the things that would please him as I let the water run down my naked body.

  Bison’s main headquarters are right in the heart of Philly off Market Street, a few blocks away from Rittenhouse Square.

  It’s a beautiful building, glass and spacious. The security guy buzzes me in right away like he expected my arrival. I ride the elevator to the thirty-third floor, and as I step out, I’m greeted by Davis’s smirking face.

  I’m a little surprised to see him right here. He’s wearing a dark suit, slim fitting and perfect for his muscular proportions. He steps toward me and kisses my cheek.

  It takes all my willpower not to pull away.

  “Very good,” he whispers in my ear. “Remember. You’re mine now.”

  I smile when he pulls away even if I want to stab him in the face.

  “Ready, honey?” he asks me.

  “Ready,” I say.

  He takes my hand. The receptionist waves as we pass, and Davis introduces me on the fly.

  “Hi,” I manage to say before he whisks me into the back offices and in front of a huge crowd of people.

  They start cheering right away. I stare at them and only barely keep my jaw from hitting the floor. Davis raises my hand above my head, the one with the ring on it, like I’m a boxer and I just won a fight.

  He basks in the cheers and I keep a smile plastered on my face. The people are mostly young tech-looking types, which doesn’t surprise me one bit. It’s the kind of crowd I wish I were a part of.

  I guess I am now, at least in a way.

  The cheers eventually die down and Davis speaks up. “Okay, team, thanks for that amazing welcome. Everyone, this is Carly, my fiancée. She’s visiting the office today, so be nice. Try not to spread any bad rumors about me, okay?”

  He gets a laugh at that stupid joke and he beams at them like a motivational speaker on stage.

  “Now, get back to work.”

  I wave as they clap again and slowly disperse. We stay standing there in the entrance, watching them go, before Davis turns to me.

  He pulls me against him and kisses my cheek again. “So far, so good,” he whispers. “Don’t be so scared, though. You love me, remember.”

  “Right. We’re in love.” The words sound automatic, like a robot is saying them.

  He smirks, like he’s loving how this is driving me nuts, and leads me further into the office.

  I meet so many people I can barely keep track of them. Junior programmers, team leads, accountants, lawyers, marketers, sales people, all the positions you’d need for an enormous and successful company like Bison are represented.

  Davis seems to know them all by name. It’s actually amazing. He even points out a summer intern.

  “Leo!” he shouts, and the young kid with frizzy hair grins.

  “Sup, Davis.” He nods as Davis gives him a fist bump as we walk past.

  “Do you really know everyone?” I ask Davis.

  “Of course. They’re my people. I’m nothing without all of them.”

  I frown a little bit. That’s not the answer I expected. I figured it was a morale thing, or a weird business school power move, but I didn’t expect that level of humble self-awareness.

  “Come on,” he says. “My office is over there.”

  We stop in front of a big glass door with shades covering it. Davis pulls me inside, into one of the biggest office spaces I’ve ever seen.

  One half is a conference table complete with projector and screen. The other half has a couch, two chairs, a coffee table, a desk, a little bar in the corner, bookshelves, and filing cabinets.

  There are two people sitting at the conference table, their laptops and papers spread out around them. I recognize the first guy from my job interview.

  “Carly, you know Jeremy,” Davis says.

  “Hey again.” Jeremy grins at me.

  “Hey,” I say.

  “He’s my personal assistant. And that fine young lady is Avah.”

  I look over at Avah. She’s tall, dark-skinned, natural hair, wide eyes and full lips. I think she could be a model in another life.

  “Hey there,” she says.

  “Avah is my right-hand lady,” Davis says. “She’s the number two in the company.”

  “Nice to meet you.”

  “Likewise.”

  “They know about our arrangement,” Davis says, dispelling my curiosity.

  “Oh, okay,” I say.

  “And I think it’s fucking insane,” Avah says. “I told him not to do it, but hey, whatever. It’s his life, he can spend it in jail.”

  “Oh, right,” I say. “I can spend it there with him, I guess.”

  She winces. “Sorry.”

  I smile at her, shaking my head. “No big deal. He’s an asshole, but he pays well.”

  “He pays you?” she asks. “He just begs me to show up and I keep doing it.”

  I laugh as Davis rolls his eyes. “Okay, okay, I get it, I’m the worst.”

  Avah grins at me. “That’s right, and don’t you forget it.” She winks and heads over to her stuff, gathering it up. “I have a meeting with the update lead in a few minutes, Davis. When’s the ceremony?”

  He checks his watch. The word “ceremony” sticks in my skull like a catchy piece of music.

  “An hour. So make it quick. You’re my best man.”

  She blows him a kiss and leaves the room. Jeremy smiles at me. “Can I get you anything, Carly?”

  “No, thanks,” I mumble.

  “I’ll be right outside.” He gathers his stuff and follows Avah out.

  “His desk is right out there,” Davis says, walking over to a little wardrobe in the corner. He takes off his jacket and hangs it up.

  I can’t help but stare at his muscular arms.

  “Right,” I manage to say.

  He grins at me and sits down at his desk, gesturing for me to sit in one of the chairs. I obey, sinking down into the seat.

  I stare at him, head spinning. “I heard her say… ceremony,” I finally say.

  He nods, grinning huge. “That’s right.”

  “Like a… wedding ceremony?”

  “Bingo.”

  “Today?”

  “In an hour.”

  “Shit.”

  I lean back in my chair and he laughs.

  “That’s how every little boy dreams his future bride will react upon learning of her upcoming nuptial.” He gives me a mock swoon.

  I don’t have the energy to joke back. “I didn’t know it was happening today.”

  “It’s today,” he confirms. “No reason to wait. It was in the contract.”

  I glare at him. “That huge stack of papers it took me over an hour to breeze through?”

  “That’s the one.” He grins bigger.

  “You did that on purpose.”

  “Sure did.”

  “You asshole. What else did I sign away without realizing it?”

  “A lot,” he says, leaning toward me over the desk. “I think you’ll find most of it very, very stimula
ting.”

  I sit there, staring at him, trying to decide if I want to slap him, scream, or kiss him, when there’s a knock at the office door.

  “There she is,” he mutters. “Come in!”

  The door opens and a small woman walks in. She’s wearing a smart pant suit, violet-colored, with high heels that make her tiny frame look only marginally less tiny. Her hair is blonde and cut short and she’s holding a nice leather portfolio.

  “Elaine, meet Carly,” Davis says.

  I stand and shake the small woman’s hand. I realize that she’s probably in her fifties when I originally mistook her for twenty.

  “Pleasure,” she says. “Are you ready to get fitted?”

  “Fitted?” I look back at Davis in horror.

  “And hair and makeup,” he says. “You’re getting married, sweetie.”

  Instantly I snap back into my role. Clearly Elaine doesn’t know about the truth of this, so I’d better be careful.

  In fact, I’d better be careful at all times from now on.

  “Right, of course. You’re helping with that.”

  “Come this way, sweetie,” the small woman chirps. “You’ll make such a pretty bride, I swear, Davis sure knows how to pick ‘em. Long legs, great boobs…”

  She chatters away as I slowly follow her.

  I throw one final look back at Davis. He’s grinning his head off, his eyes on my ass, and a thrill runs through my chest.

  I stand in front of the mirror and stare at myself.

  I’m wearing a freaking wedding dress.

  I barely recognize myself. I’ve been standing here for ten minutes now, staring at my reflection, while Elaine hovers around, fixing little things and nervously chatting away.

  As soon as we left Davis’s office, it was like going into a NASCAR pit crew or something. A bunch of stylists descended on me in this back room with a big mirror along one wall. They did my makeup, my hair, even painted my nails. And then, at the end of it all, they brought out my dress.

  It’s beautiful. I hate myself for admitting it, but it’s perfect.

  “He picked it out,” Elaine says absently as she plays with my train. “Pretty, right? He has very good taste, that Davis does. He’s very talented.”

  “He is,” I mumble, staring still.

  I find it hard to believe that Davis would pick something so… tasteful.