Traded

by Rebecca Brooke

  Ashton leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. “When did you get married?”

  “After we both finished college—”

  “Wait. You have a college degree?” he said, and the surprise in his voice hurt my feelings a little.

  “I do. I majored in musical theater.”

  He shook his head. “Then what the hell are you doing working in a diner?”

  I shrugged. “Dominic thought it would be a waste of time for me to go to auditions when I could have a full time job with a steady income.”

  “Fucker wouldn’t even let you follow your dream.”

  His voice was low enough that I knew I wasn’t supposed to have heard what he said. But I did and I sank back in my seat, wanting to defend my husband, but not wishing to upset Ashton any further. “He was right. We needed the money.”

  He looked over at me, sighed and reached across the table, taking one of my hands and giving it a gentle squeeze, his thumb running lightly back and forth over my knuckles. “Not at the expense of your dream. I know for a fact he’s been gambling a long time. My guess—he wanted you to have a job to help pay for his extracurricular activities.”

  I shook my head emphatically. “He wouldn’t do that to me.”

  “Yes he would, Elena, and he did. Don’t kid yourself.”

  That hurt worse than I thought it would. The idea that Dominic would make me give up my dream so he could gamble. My stomach was in knots. “I don’t know what to say. We’re married. I wanted to do the best I could for him, especially since we didn’t plan on getting to that point so young.”

  He tilted his head to the side. “What do you mean?”

  I flinched. “Our wedding wasn’t exactly intentional.”

  Ashton released my hand and leaned forward, his elbows on the table, his hands clasped and resting against his mouth.

  “Explain.”

  I took a deep breath and began . . .

  My head feels as if there’s a jacking hammer drilling into my brain. Maybe the surprise trip to Vegas for my graduation wasn’t such a good idea. Opening my eyes slowly, afraid of the light on the other side, I see Dominic, sleeping peacefully next to me. Our clothes from last night are scattered all over the room, including the three dresses I put on when deciding what to wear. Dominic had said he didn’t like any of them and kept asking me to change. One of them was too tight, he said. It made my butt look big. The other two were too revealing; the first showed too much leg, although it was halfway down my thighs; the second too much cleavage, when only last week I wore it to brunch with Mom.

  Shaking my head, I smile to myself. Since we’re in Vegas, I can always shop for new clothes. I’ll take Dominic shopping—make sure he likes the stuff before I buy it. Running my hands over my face, I know a shower and food will help to clear the fog. Carefully climbing out of bed, I make my way to the bathroom quietly because Dominic doesn’t like being woken up in the morning. He’ll be nasty for the rest of the day if I disturb him so it’s easier to just be quiet until he gets up so we can go to breakfast.

  I turn on the water for the shower. Waiting for it to heat, I reach for my toothbrush and almost scream out loud. There, on the third finger of my left hand, sits a solid gold band.

  A wedding band.

  Running from the bathroom, I pull back the bed sheet to look at Dominic’s hand, finding a matching band resting just below his knuckle.

  Oh God. What happened last night?

  With determination, I search through our clothes and bags, looking for something to explain what’s going on. There in the pocket of Dominic’s pants is a receipt from the Chapel O’ Love for his and hers wedding bands, and one ceremony. Stapled to the receipt is a piece of flimsy paper: the official Nevada marriage license.

  Holy hell. We got married.

  We’re married.

  It’s what I’ve been hoping for—even if it’s happened a little earlier than I expected.

  For one brief second I think about waking Dominic up, but he probably won’t be happy. It’s probably better to let him sleep before I tell him.

  I get into the shower and once out and dressed, I go back into the main room. Dominic is sitting in one of the tub chairs, the license clutched in his hand, the vein in his temple pulsing wildly.

  “What the fuck is this?” He holds the paper up, waving it in front of me. I thought he was going to be unhappy, but this is more. He’s angry.

  I hold my hands up. “Now, Dominic—”

  “Don’t Dominic me. You tricked me! You got me drunk last night so you could trap me.”

  A small laugh escapes my mouth before I can stop it. “I did no such thing. I woke up this morning remembering as little as you do. I had just as much to drink last night.”

  “Which is why I always tell you not to drink,” he snaps.

  I drop into the chair next to him, the pain in my heart making my chest ache. “What do you want me to do? We could try and get a divorce? Or maybe an annulment?”

  He stands, his tall frame towering over me. “You think this is funny?”

  This isn’t the first time he’s freaked out like this. Eventually he’ll calm down, but it still makes me want to hide. He can get mean when he’s like this and I don’t like it. “No. I’m just not sure what else we can do.”

  “You wanted this, didn’t you,” he accuses.

  I look away, feeling the tears burn my eyes. “I won’t lie, Dominic. I was hoping you’d want to make me your wife, someday.”

  “Do you even know how to be a wife?”

  His sneer is hurtful but I answer quickly, “Not really, but I can try. I’m a quick learner.”

  He paces the room, back and forth until he comes to a stop in front of the large plate window. He stares out at the skyline for a few moments and I’m afraid he’ll turn around and say he wants a divorce. “Fine,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “We’ll stay married—but if this is going to work, you need to learn how to be a good wife.”

  My heart leaps. Dominic has been my world for so long. Things can only get better now that he’s mine and I am his. Maybe he’ll be less jealous. Less possessive.

  I run up and wrap my arms around him. “I promise, I’ll be the best wife ever.”

  He doesn’t kiss me like I expect. Instead, he unwraps my hands and drags me across the room, back toward the bed. “And you can start right now. I’m going to teach you how a wife should act in bed.”

  The soft brush of a finger across my cheek brought everything back into focus. I hadn’t realized I’d been crying until Ashton wiped away my tears. He’d dragged his chair closer to mine while I’d been speaking and was now only inches from me, his legs splayed, cocooning me where I sat. “Don’t cry, Elena. That prick doesn’t deserve another tear from you.”

  “I just want to make him happy.” My eyes closed, trying to block out the pain.

  “That’s not what he wants. He wants a slave.”

  “I tried to be everything he wanted me to be. Why isn’t that enough?” Holding back the sobs made my chest ache and so I gave in, letting them go. Ashton gently pulled me into his arms and held me while I cried.

  Eventually the tears slowed, some semblance of control returning. Leaning away, I brushed furiously at my face. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

  “Don’t be sorry. I think you needed that.”

  He cupped my face, using his thumbs to wipe away the remaining tears, and when our eyes connected, the frames of his glasses making the green of his irises even brighter, I was lost. My heart raced and my breath came in pants, my body reacting to the near perfection that was Ashton Hawes. His eyes slid closed and for one brief moment, I thought he was going to kiss me. My eyes fluttered shut and I waited, surprised and a little disappointed when I heard his groan and the sound of his chair pushing back.

  I wasn’t beautiful enough for a man like Ashton. The fact that I even considered I might be was enough to bring me close to tears again.r />
  “Stop, Elena. I can see your emotions in your eyes. Don’t think for one second you aren’t beautiful. You happen to be one of the most gorgeous women I’ve ever seen. Unfortunately, some asshole with a superiority complex has skewed your view of yourself. Last night I promised not to take you to my bed unless you wanted to be there willingly, and I stand by that. I will not sit here and ravage you when you’re upset.”

  He did say that last night, and while my body may be willing and waiting for a night with Ashton, my mind was at war with itself. Locked in a battle of right and wrong.

  “You need to be ready if you want me, Elena, because I don’t make love—I fuck. But I can guarantee you that if you make the decision to climb into my bed, I’ll show you more pleasure than you’ve ever known.”

  Heat raced up my cheeks and for the first time, I felt my panties wet with desire. Ashton pushed me to that point through his words alone. Silence was my only defense.

  “Now before I can’t keep my promise to keep my hands to myself, let’s each get into something more comfortable and we’ll watch a movie.”

  “Okay,” I said, practically running from the room.

  I needed to get myself under control. Something about Ashton kept drawing me to him, despite my head screaming that it wasn’t right to betray Dominic. Yes, he’d given me permission, but I made vows and I’d meant them. Grabbing a new pair of yoga pants and a fitted T-shirt, I took deep calming breaths and resolved that I would watch the movie, but I needed to be prepared while I was down there.

  CHAPTER 7

  Ashton

  Watching Elena leave the room hurt. Physically hurt. My dick was so hard it took every ounce of my self-control to keep my ass in the chair. It would blow my softly-softly approach if I chased after her and chained her to my bed, although, that didn’t stop my mind from wandering to how I could show her the way a real man treated a woman. With everything that was said, I was amazed at my ability to keep a cool head with her.

  Fuck. I shouldn’t have asked her to keep that dress on. The second I looked up and saw her curves on display, clearly defined beneath the material, I’d wanted to clear my desk in one swipe and bend her over the top.

  A cold shower—that’s what I needed to clear my head. With her history, I had to make sure she was ready for my bed because, like I told her, it wouldn’t be sweet. I didn’t do sweet. Hot and passionate I could give her. But I didn’t make love. Slow and sweet meant a connection. Most women wouldn’t be able to handle the realities of my life. So I kept myself disconnected, and it worked.

  Thoughts of Elena stayed with me while I went to my room, taking my own advice and changing into something more comfortable. Flipping on the shower in my bathroom, I turned the knob all the way to cold—anything to get my cock back under control. I stepped under the spray and with the icy water clearing my brain, I was able to go over everything Elena had told me at dinner. If my desire to keep her close hadn’t overridden everything else, I probably would have climbed in my car and gone to beat the ever-loving fuck out of the prick.

  He actually told her the only way he’d stay married to her was if she learned how to be a good wife. My hands clenched into fists at my sides as I resisted the temptation to take my frustration out on the tiles. How a man could treat their wife that way was beyond rational thought. And for her to agree . . .

  He must have been slowly breaking down her protective barriers until he burrowed so deep under her skin, she had no idea he’d done it.

  Goddamn asshole had known exactly what he was doing. He’d scored a beautiful woman. He could have made the decision to give her the world, but he broke her instead. The worst part was, I’d never in my life wanted a woman so badly. Her body, curved in all the right places, breasts the perfect size for my hands, made me dizzy with desire. All the blood ran from my brain to my dick.

  I let the water pound down on me, the ice-cold droplets stinging my heated skin as I tried to think of anything but the sexy vixen down the hall. The one who had no clue how appealing she was, or she’d have ditched her husband a long time ago. Damn it! I needed to get my mind away from Dominic, and the idea of Elena and Dominic, or I was going to end up killing him. Uncomfortable as it might be, I was just going to have to make do with a lethal case of blue balls.

  Work.

  Loans.

  Sports.

  I ran through a list in my head—anything that would clear out the image of Elena in that dress. And her eyes. She was completely oblivious.

  Work.

  Loans.

  Loans!

  Shit.

  I had to collect a payment in a few nights. Another asshole who’d borrowed more than he could pay back. What in the hell was I supposed to do with Elena? Under no circumstances would I involve her in any more of my business. I had family connections and I couldn’t wait to get the hell out. I couldn’t have her anywhere near it.

  Resolving to keep Elena away from that side of my life, I got out of the shower and I threw on a pair of track pants and a T-shirt, heading downstairs to wait for her to pick a movie. Goose bumps still covered my skin but when I stepped into the den, I wanted to march right back upstairs and add ice to the shower.

  So much for clearing my head.

  With her back to me, she stared at the shelves of pictures and artwork that lined the walls, her ass encased in a pair of black yoga pants that showed every curved muscle. I clenched my teeth as I surmised that she probably worked out to keep from getting fat, like a good wife would, swallowing against the lump at the back of my throat.

  Sensing my presence she turned around, still as shy as she’d been when she knocked on my office door only a few hours earlier, and I watched her tongue dart out to wet her lower lip before she drew it between her teeth and met my gaze. I managed to stifle my groan, thanking the Lord that her shirt was nowhere near as low-cut as her dress had been, but it was still fitted enough to allude to her shape underneath. It would seem Elena didn’t have to do a lot to get me worked up but as long as she stayed seated, keeping that ass from view, I could keep from thinking with my other brain.

  “I wasn’t sure how to work anything in here.” She gestured toward the TV.

  I laughed, the sound strained as I attempted to get myself under control. “How about I turn it on, while you pick a movie.”

  She took a seat on the couch, her back straight, hands folded in her lap. Innocent didn’t fully describe the scene in front of me.

  “No, you’re going to pick what we watch tonight.” Walking over to the table, I grabbed the remote and pulled up my Netflix account.

  “But . . . but—”

  “No excuses, Elena. We’re going to teach you how to make decisions for yourself.”

  Her face blanched and for one brief moment I felt bad for pushing her. Then I remembered what it took to break Aunt Veronica out of it. I sat down next to her, my thigh running the length of hers, and showed her how to flick through the choices to find a movie. The slight tremble to her hands told me she was uncomfortable. She flipped through and although I’d expected her pick one of the romantic comedies she passed them all by, and it struck me that even though I would rather gouge my eye out with a spoon than watch one of those films, I would have endured it if she’d made the choice. Then she surprised me. Rush was an older movie; one I was willing to bet she hadn’t seen. She looked up at me through her long russet lashes.

  “Is this okay?”

  She thinks this is what I want to watch. “Elena, is this a movie you want to watch, or did you pick something you thought I’d enjoy?”

  “I’ve wanted to see since it came out, but I can pick something else if you’d prefer?”

  “Enough.” I covered her lips with my finger. Probably not the best move on my part, especially when I felt how soft they were. “I told you to pick, which means I’ll watch whatever you chose. Now let’s sit back and enjoy the movie.”

  She slid back on the couch but her back remained ramrod strai
ght, the tension in the room was thicker than the fog after a summer storm.

  “Elena?”

  “Yes?” She looked over at me.

  “You can relax. I won’t bite.”

  I realized I was giving her permission, which went against my plan, but she immediately responded, pulling her knees up to her chest, her shoulders losing most of their tension. She wrapped her arms around her knees, hugging them tightly. It seemed protective, or maybe it was just comfortable. I preferred to think of it as being the latter. She hadn’t eaten much at dinner. She had to be hungry. And what went better with a film than snack food. “I’m going to grab something to eat. Would you like something?”

  “Umm . . .” She shrugged her shoulders. “Sure.”

  “Give me a minute.” She leaned forward to get the remote but I said, “You can leave it play. I’ve seen it before.”

  She grabbed the remote anyway, clicking pause before retreating back into the couch, her chin coming to rest on her knees. “I’ll wait for you.”

  “I’ll be right back.”

  I headed for the kitchen, moving quickly through the house. Cursing myself for not thinking of this sooner, I figured that popcorn would be the best choice. It hurt to think that Elena probably hadn’t been to the theater in years, and I wondered just how much she’d missed out on. Things that I likely took for granted were a luxury to her. The thought made me uneasy.

  Searching through the pantry, I found a box of microwavable popcorn and, tossing it in the microwave to cook, I went to the fridge and grabbed a bottle of beer, soda, and water. If I gave her a selection, she’d have to make her own choice.

  I carried everything out to the den on a tray, met by a wide-eyed Elena. “Wow,” she said dropping her feet to the ground. She started to get up and I pulled the tray back, away from her reach.

  “Sit down and relax. Remember, you’re my guest.” I set the tray on the ottoman. “I wasn’t sure what you’d want to drink, so I brought you some choices.”