Page 43 of Play the Game

I crane my neck to the living room and almost lose my footing.

My knees buckle, and I’m punched in the gut with her appearance.

What the fuck did I get myself into?

There stands my new wife, bound by a feigned contract, wearing a wedding dress that accentuates every delectable curve of her body and highlights how tragically beautiful she truly is. With bright-blue eyes and high cheekbones that shimmer under the natural light of the room, I’m sort of at a loss for words.

It surprises me. I blink a few times before I finally speak. “Wh–what?” I grip my bag tighter and snap myself out of the trance she’s put me under.

“You’re late,” she repeats.

It’s hard to ignore the attitude in her tone, and my eye twitches.

“You’ve been my wife for twenty-four hours, and you’re already getting angry when I’m not home on time?” I grunt and turn my back to her, hating that seeing her in a wedding dress has me all twisted.

The silk of her dress makes a noise that catches my attention as her feet slap against the hardwood floor.No shoes?I refuse to look at her cute feet.

“I need natural light for our photos!” There’s an urgency in her tone that pulls me back around. Her hand falls to my forearm, and she slips my bag off my shoulder, letting it fall with a thud to the floor.

My brow furrows as I look at her small palm gripping my arm.

“Let's go!”

“Go where?” I let her pull me through the house over to the stairs because I’m simply confused.

She turns back and peeks over her delicate shoulder. The dress shows off some skin, and I hate that it's so soft looking. I also hate that I remember how she felt in my lap that night I proposed to her…the wordproposeostensible in every sense.

“To get dressed!” She lets go of me, and a piece of her pinned-back blonde hair falls into her face. “Go!”

The moment I step in front of her, she pushes me from behind.

“You’re bossy,” I call over my shoulder.

I catch her with her hip popped out and her arms crossed over her slightly plunged breasts. “Well…takes one to know one.”

With a quiet chuckle, I turn and jog up the stairs.

“And shave your face!” she shouts from down below.

I roll my eyes and head straight for the bathroom to grab my razor, per mywife’srequest.

“Alright. Where do you want me?”I seem irritated and impatient, but I have to admit, it’s kind of amusing to watch Scottie observe the space and test her camera, only to step away with a furrowed brow and pursed lips.

She shushes me without even looking in my direction. There’s a little line in between her eyebrows, and when she sucks her lip into her mouth and pins it with her bright-white teeth, I can’t help but stare.

“This isn’t going to work!” She huffs and taps her chin with her fingers.

I ignore her little fit and run my eyes down her slender frame. She’s small but still has noticeable curves, and the wedding dress looks like it was made for her.

In the midst of Scottie gathering her camera and tripod thing, I blurt out a question that’s been bugging me. “Where did you get that dress?”

What if she's been married before?

I think back to the man that was handling her like a ragdoll at the Cat House. My ears burn, and I ask the next question before she can answer the first.

“Have you been married before?”

Scottie stops what she’s doing and immediately looks at me. It takes her all of three seconds to burst out in laughter. Something moves in my chest, and my ears cool. I keep my lips flat, but hearing her laugh makes my cheeks twitch.

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