Page 172 of Scandalous Games

His eyes flash with jealousy at the mention of his best friend’s name. “I’m afraid his best friend title is up for debate.”

“Why?”

“He tried to steal you from me.”

I roll my eyes. “He did not.”

“He flirted with you.”

“Pretended.”

Dash’s broad shoulders roll in a shrug. “Pretend or not, no one but me gets to touch you. So if he knows what’s good for him, he’ll keep his distance from you.”

“Look at it this way. If he hadn’t, you’d still be keeping me at arm’s length. So maybe forgive him this time.”

“I would’ve said yes.”

“You do know you’re stubborn, right?” I taunt playfully.

“So are you, kitten. You wouldn’t have given up until I said yes.”

“True.”

Shaking his head in amusement, he wraps my hand in his and growls, “We are late again because of you, wifey.”

He chuckles when I smack his chest and call him a lying jerk. It was entirely his fault.

As promised, a shiny black limousine is waiting for us. The driver nods and we slide into the back seat. The ride begins and as I gaze out the window while watching the streets fly by, the weight of my past lifts off my shoulders. All I feel is bone-deep happiness. With each new memory I create with Dash, the old sad ones disintegrate.

I glance at my husband and notice that he’s deep in thought. He’s staring out the window on his own side while his thumb caresses his jaw absentmindedly. Our thighs touch as he leaves no space between us. Pressing even closer, I rest my head on his shoulder and when he kisses my forehead, I thank the angels for sending him to me again.

Maybe, it takes being heartbroken once to meet the one we truly deserve.

Just like weathering a storm before we reach the peaceful high.

If only I knew that a storm is yet to come.

***

When we arrive at the seven-star hotel hosting the charity function, Dash orders the driver to take the back entrance so we don’t have to go through the sea of flashing cameras. My protest that I can handle it goes unheard and shushed with a hard kiss.

Inside, though, I’m grateful.

Spotlights are not my thing and never will be.

The party is in full swing as we enter the ballroom and instantly, we are swarmed by people wanting to meet and converse with Dash. Some congratulating us on our recent nuptials making the headlines while few discuss business. Dash is polite as he makes small talk and I love when he pulls me into the conversation, genuinely interested in what I have to say.

The names and faces all blur as time passes. I thought I’d be bored but hearing everyone praise Dash for his efforts and the difference he’s made over the years in so many lives fills me with pride.

“Hey, beautiful,” a familiar flirty voice drawls. “Long time no see.”

“She’s my wife, you dickhead,” growls Dash. “Go find someone else to call beautiful.”

“Dash,” I scold.

“Shame you couldn’t teach him manners, Bianca.”

“You aren’t so innocent either.”

---