Page 6 of The Husband Game

The sharp jolt of pain sent a little clarity through his muddled thoughts and a surge of anger straightened his spine. “There’s no way in hell I’d marry anyone sober, much less you.”

“Ouch.” Dustin grimaced, leaning back against the rumpled sheets to prop himself up on his forearms.

Charlie absolutely didn’t take notice of the way the pose made the crisp cotton poplin fabric stretch across Dustin’s firm pecs.

He didn’t.

“I am kind of a catch, you know?” Dustin continued. “I did win my fourth Ted Lindsay Award and I’ve been listed as one of Toronto’s most eligible bachelors for the past ten years.”

“It’s not my fault no one else wants you,” Charlie snarked. “I don’t want you.”

“Damn, we haven’t even been married twelve hours and you’re already acting like you’re done with me.”

“Of all of the ridiculous—” Charlie broke off. “You know what? I don’t care. I want this over with. Twelve hours married to you is way too fucking many. If this is legit, we need to get this nightmare annulled before it’s too late.”

“Look, kitten.” Dustin straightened, his expression growing serious. “I’m pretty sure that ship has already sailed.”

“What?” he rasped.

“Apparently we announced it on Instagram last night and it blew up everywhere.”

“What? No. No way.” Charlie swayed, his head going a little light as he staggered back onto the orange velvet couch with a heavy thump.

Ooof, not something he should be sitting on bare-assed when they’d gotten up to everything under the sun last night but whatever.

Dustin had money. He could leave a tip for the cleaning service or pay to replace the whole damn thing.

“Hey, you okay?” Dustin’s voice was tinged with genuine concern as he stood and walked over. “You’re as white as the sheets on that bed.”

“I’m fine.” Charlie held his aching head, hoping desperately he wouldn’t pass out. “You’re teasing me about the social media thing, right?”

“No.” Dustin frowned at him. “Look, do you need some water? Something to eat?”

“I don’t need anything to eat!” Charlie would kill for a bottle of water but they had bigger issues at the moment. “Find me my fucking phone if you want to be useful.”

Dustin’s scowl was ferocious enough that Charlie almost backpedaled.

But Dustin got up and retrieved the device from the nightstand, handing it over without a word. The battery was nearly dead but Charlie quickly navigated to his Instagram account.

Interior design stuff. Makeup tutorials. Selfies. Pics from the sightseeing he’d done in Vegas with Jamie, Taylor, and Ava …

He glanced up. “I don’t see anything on here. Are you sure you didn’t … dream this up?”

“Dream it up … No! I didn’t dream up the post. Where are you looking?” Dustin sounded annoyed.

“My account.”

“Not yours. It’s on mine.”

“I should have guessed,” Charlie muttered.

He searched for Dustin’s name and a verified account quickly came up. Charlie held his breath as he clicked on it, praying desperately that it would be as boring as his feed was.

It was not.

“Oh no,” Charlie whispered, his stomach lurching again as he scanned the first image.

Two hands, one long fingered and broad palmed, lightly dusted with black hair and sporting a simple band. The other hand a little more dainty and smooth, wearing the three-carat cushion cut diamond Charlie had on his ring finger.

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