The Wife Gamble

by Charlie Hart

  She shrugs away from me and points at the door to the secret club. “Then go be happy, Sal. I want that for you.”

  “God.” I tug at my hair and start to pace. “You think...” My heart beats so damn hard it feels like it’s going to fracture into a thousand pieces in my chest.

  I’m going to lose her if I don’t let my guard down. But I’ve never been good at expressing my feelings. Hell, I’m not sure if I ever had feelings before I met her. For my entire life, I’ve plastered on a fake smile and made jokes to hide my emotions.

  “It was just sex,” I say.

  When she winces, I know I’m only making it worse.

  “But you won’t have sex with me, your wife.” Her words are soft, defeated.

  “Because I didn’t want it to just be sex with you. I wanted... more.”

  She holds my gaze, and for a moment, I feel like maybe both of us have our guard down. It’s a stupid thought, but a part of me wants to beg her to see me.

  I’m not all alpha male like Fallon, or sensitive like Emerson, and I’m sure as hell not as in touch with my emotions as Giles, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about Tia. That I don’t love her in my own way.

  Tell her.

  But I’ve already said the damn words, told my parents how I felt. She knows. And yet she still thinks... God, I don’t even know what she thinks. Which in a way, is fucking hilarious, since I’m practically a human lie detector.

  “What do you want?” she asks. “Tell me.”

  What do I want?

  I want her.

  Us.

  No barriers.

  No lies.

  I want her to want me.

  “I want--”

  “Everything okay here?” Huxley asks from the hallway, before coming into the room. He gives me an I-told-you-fucking-so look, before raising a brow at Tia.

  She runs her hands over her face and shakes her head. “How... how are those women even here? I thought...”

  “They’re infertile,” I say, needing her to understand that I’m not the bad guy she thinks I am. “They were disqualified from the Lottery for that and other reasons. They would have been sent to the docks, if--”

  She puts a hand up, stopping me, then looks up at Huxley. “I just want to go home.”

  He nods and places an arm around her shoulders, pulling her to his side. And my own jealousy stirs in my chest, because of the natural ease with which he does it.

  They start to walk away.

  When I don’t move, Huxley turns his head and asks, “You coming?”

  I swallow past the lump that’s found a permanent spot in my throat and shake my head. “Going to stay here for a bit.”

  Tia looks at me then, and I see the hurt in her eyes. I want to curse because I know what she’s thinking. That I’m staying for the women. And I know I should say something to correct her, or even just go with them.

  But if she doesn’t trust me, that’s not my fault. I’ve been faithful. Given her no reason to think I’d be otherwise. And right now, I need some space to think and figure out if she’s right. If this really is what I want.

  Because if it is, then I’ve got one hell of a fight on my hands.

  Chapter 9

  Tia

  I toss and turn all night, visions of Salinger’s brothel playing in my mind.

  What was that man thinking to take me there?

  The worst part was, aside from the jealousy I’d initially felt, I found myself ridiculously intrigued with the bar. At least, until I realized what it actually was. The music was from another era, the bartender playing the part, the sultry smoke, the deep red velvets, and thick brocade curtains. All of it felt like a slice out of a history book.

  Yet, lying underneath all that glamour was the truth: my husband slept with those prostitutes and he hasn’t slept with me.

  My chest squeezes and a new rush of jealousy mixed with frustration bubbles inside of me.

  Fallon comes to my room when I get home, asking if I’d like company. I know what he wants. I can see the lust in his eyes, the need. But my mind is too cluttered. I’ve never turned down one of my husbands, but I need to be alone tonight.

  But after a few hours of tossing and turning in my bed, I regret not asking Fallon to share my bed.

  I’m emotionally drained, exhausted beyond reason, and the fact that I can’t sleep only adds to my frustration. Rolling onto my belly, I try to understand why Salinger thought I’d like to see that place. The only conclusion I can come to is one that makes my throat tight. He trusted me enough to show me his deepest, darkest secret. He was offering a piece of himself to me.

  And I pushed him away.

  Forget being his wife, what kind of friend am I?

  I need to talk to him. Listen. And try to understand.

  But looking at the clock, I see that it’s too late to go to him, and yet still hours until dawn. Everything I want to say will have to wait until tomorrow.

  With a groan, I roll out of bed and go the bathroom, turning on the shower, then stepping in once it’s steaming.

  I let the hot water roll down my back and shoulders, the jets messaging my stiff muscles. I should be happy. Giles is coming home, and because of Sal’s mother, I have hope that my father and Lawson won’t find me. Even if they do, I believe she’ll fight for me.

  Unlike her son. Even as I think it, I know it’s not fair. He’d fought with his parents for me. But then why won’t he fight for my attention, for my affection? It wouldn’t take much. I just want him to come to me.

  Salinger. God, the man baffles me. I’d thought I’d known him when I’d first arrived. All dimpled smiles and quick, witty remarks that could have me laughing without even trying.

  But he’s withdrawn more and more into himself over the past couple of months. Which is why his confession today confused me even more. And then he stayed there - with the women. His actions and words contradict each other, and yet I don’t think there’s a deceitful bone in his body.

  I trust him. He’s the only one who knows the truth of my identity, and while he could have come home and told the others, he’s kept my secret. That has to mean something.

  But I still don’t know what he wants from me. Not really. There’s a part of me that wants to steal into his bedroom and give myself to him. Forget insecurities and take a chance that maybe that’s what's holding him back too.

  I run my hands through my damp hair, over my shoulders, and across my breasts, down my torso, imagining what Salinger’s hands would feel like. I don’t know his body the way I do the others. And I want to. Want to get back to the playfulness we had before his suspicion of me put his guard up.

  But the fear of rejection is so terrifying.

  I’ve caught him looking at me, have seen those dark eyes of his roam down my body, hunger flashing in his gaze. A look that I could almost feel like a caress on my skin, even now.

  I want his hands on my body, like my own are now. The ache between my thighs increases, imagining Salinger taking me for the first time, and I slip a finger into my pussy, rubbing the sensitive bud until I’m on the cusp of pleasure.

  But no matter how hard I try, I can’t make myself come. My orgasm is just out of reach. Finally, after several frustrating minutes, I lean against the cold tiles and sigh.

  It’s been weeks since I’ve tried to please myself. I haven’t had to. Not when my husbands were always more than willing to make my body sing in pleasure.

  Except for Salinger and Banks, who have both created barricades around their damn hearts that I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to bring down.

  But I need to try.

  I’m still not tired enough to sleep when I’ve dried myself off, combed through my damp hair and dressed for the day.

  My body may be spent, but my mind won’t stop spinning. I know there’s no way I’m falling back to sleep, but it’s too late to wake one of the men. Sure, I’d get no complaints from Huxley or Fallon, but it wouldn’t be fair to them si
nce they both must work in the morning.

  Walking down the hall, I open the linen closet and get fresh sheets and blankets. Then I push open Giles’ bedroom door, wanting to air it out and freshen it up before he comes home later today.

  Despite my frustration with Sal, I am also eternally grateful for him. Because of his connections, Giles is free of the charges against him. I know Sal doesn’t want to admit it, maybe he doesn’t even see it himself, but our family’s greatest chance of survival rests on his shoulders.

  After I change the sheets on Giles’ bed, I lay down, wishing he were here now, knowing it’ll be more than just physical injuries that will need to heal when he comes home. The man has been to hell and back, all to keep me safe.

  I don’t even realize that I close my eyes, but when I open them again, the sun is shining through the windows and Salinger is standing beside the bed, watching me.

  “Hi,” I say groggily. “What time is it?”

  “Almost noon.”

  “No.” I rub my eyes and sit up. “Giles was supposed to be here by now.”

  “There’s been a small change of plans.”

  I don’t like the sound of that. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” But he frowns when he says it. “He was transported to the medical facility on the base. My father thinks there’ll be less talk if we pick him up, rather than having a car bring him back.”

  “Okay.” Still, something doesn’t feel right.

  “I know,” he says as if reading my thoughts. “There’s something else.”

  “What?”

  “He’s requested that you join me.”

  “Why?”

  Salinger sighs and drags his fingers through his hair. “He’s asking that you take the pregnancy test.”

  “No.” I shake my head, getting out of bed.

  “Think about it, Tia. If you’re pregnant, it could mean--”

  “It could mean me dying.”

  His lips tighten, his face pales slightly and he nods. “There is that risk. But it could also mean your freedom. Real freedom.”

  “I’m not pregnant,” I whisper. I know my body, and I’d have felt something if I was carrying a child. Wouldn’t I?

  “Most likely you’re not. But there is a chance. And our scientists have been working on new treatments that if applied during the first trimester can significantly increase survival of both mother and child.”

  “You sound like Banks.”

  “I’ve been reading his research.”

  I’m taken aback. “Why?”

  “Do you really have to ask that?”

  “Apparently, I do.”

  He shakes his head at me. “Because I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

  It’s a good answer. The right answer. But is it the truth?

  I take a step towards him, wishing he’d pull me into his arms. Hold me. Kiss me. Do something, other than words, to show me that he cares.

  He doesn’t.

  “We need to go. Fallon and Banks are meeting us there.”

  “Do they know? About the test.”

  He shakes his head. “We’ll go to the labs before they arrive.”

  Trepidation dances in my stomach, but I offer the only reply I can, “Okay.”

  Chapter 10

  Salinger

  I can’t help but pace the small exam room, as the nurse takes a few vials of blood from Tia’s arm.

  “That seems like a lot of blood just for one test,” Tia says, frowning.

  I agree, my suspicions rising every second. But going against my father’s orders right before we’re about to get Giles back doesn’t seem like a smart idea.

  “I’m just following orders,” he says, capping the last vial and marking it, before pulling out the needle in Tia’s arm. “Keep pressure on it for a few minutes.”

  Tia glances over at me, brows drawn down as she holds a cotton ball over the area. “How long before we know?”

  “I’m not sure.” The nurse gives us an apologetic smile before disappearing out the door.

  “Is it just me or is this all really weird?” she asks, sliding off the examination table.

  “Yeah. But let’s just stay focused on why we’re here.”

  “Giles,” she says.

  I nod. “Fallon and Banks will be here soon. We should go down to the lobby to meet them.”

  “Sal.” She stops me when I start to open the door. “About yesterday...”

  I flinch. “I’m really sorry about taking you there.”

  “No. I’m glad you did.”

  I meet her gaze and give her a don’t-bullshit-me-look, which makes her lips twitch.

  “I mean, I’d rather not have met the women you...” She coughs. “Were intimate with. But I’m glad you showed me a piece of yourself. And I’m sorry for reacting the way I did. The whole thing was intriguing.”

  “But?” I ask, hearing it in her voice.

  “I guess, I just worry about those women. What if they wanted a life? Wanted to get married?”

  I chuckle then, and she frowns.

  “What?”

  I try to keep a straight face, but it’s hard. “It’s their choice to be there, Tia.”

  She shakes her head. “Why would they want that life?”

  “In a way, it’s freedom.” I shrug when she narrows her eyes at me. “We don’t own them. Hell, Tia, I don’t even take a cut of their profit and I could.”

  “Maybe I don’t want to hear this.”

  “Not everyone wants the same thing. And some women aren’t content with just being with one man their entire life. You must understand that.”

  “Are you comparing me to a prostitute?”

  “Shit. No.” How do I always manage to stick my foot in my mouth with her? “I’m just saying that those women you met, choose who they’re with.”

  “But the men pay them?”

  “They’re taken care of, yes. With money, sometimes jewels, or other luxuries.”

  “And you? What did you pay them with?”

  My face goes red, but I admit, “With my skills.”

  “Your... skills?” It’s her whose cheeks redden when she understands what I’m saying. “Oh.”

  I take a step towards her and there’s a stir in the air between us in this empty room. Heat and desire, mixed with all the confused emotions that are constantly at war between us.

  Her lips part as if in invitation, and I kiss her like I’ve been meaning to do since the moment we met.

  At first, it’s slow. I want to savor this moment that I have waited so long for. Her mouth is on mine, so sweet and so damn soft. And I know this moment means something to her too. She whimpers as my tongue finds hers, entwining as the kiss deepens. And it quickly moves from innocent to downright intoxicating.

  I cup her cheek with my hand, her fingers thread themselves through my hair and we step back. I lift her ass to the table, her knees part, and we pause, our breathing shallow, as if we are desperate to quench our thirst.

  “Oh, Sal,” she moans gently, her breast heaving as we take in this moment for what it is. About damn time. Our eyes lock on one another. Then I can’t help but crush my mouth against hers once more, needing to bite her tender lip, to plant kisses up and down her long, slender neck. Blow warm air in her perfect ear.

  My hand runs over her full breasts and my fingers graze her hard nipple poking through. I want her so fucking bad that I can taste it, I can feel my cock growing thick with need as she wraps her arms around my neck, kissing me harder. If this kiss could fuck we’d both be coming because holy hell this was worth the wait.

  I pull her ass to the edge of the table, wanting her to feel my erection, wanting to see the desire crawl up her skin. She leans back, panting, and her hand hits a stainless-steel bowl filled with gauze, and it’s sent flying, making a clamor as it skids across the linoleum floor. The noise pulls us back to reality.

  We are not in her bedroom, or in my brothel. We’re at the fucking ho
spital, here to retrieve her injured husband.

  I pull back and run a hand through my hair to collect myself, and when I see that she’s breathless, I can’t help but smile.

  Finally, I’ve kissed my bride. And there’s something in her eyes that I’ve only ever seen when she’s with Fallon, pure unadulterated lust.

  I groan, knowing if I don’t step away, I’ll end up having her bent over the damn examination table in a matter of seconds.

  “The others,” I remind her, my hands still fisted in her hair. “They’ll be waiting.”

  “Right.” She swallows hard, and I take a step back. “We should go.”

  I take her hand, helping her off the table, her cheeks flushed and eyes heavy with desire. As we leave the room, and she glances up at me, a small smile touches her kiss-swollen lips.

  One step forward.

  The elevator pings at the end of the hall and as it opens, I see my father surrounded by a group of men. Tia freezes and when I glance down at her, all the color has drained from her face.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “My father,” she whispers.

  I glance back at the elevator, the men who are in deep conversation haven’t seen us.

  Fuck.

  I don’t think, just act. I shove Tia back into the room we’d just come from, and hiss out, “Stay here,” before closing the door. When I turn, my father is walking towards me, a scowl on his face, and he looks... worried.

  “Dad,” I say, meeting his gaze, and trying to understand what the hell is going on. If he’s betrayed me, betrayed Tia, I swear I’ll murder him with my bare hands.

  “I’d like you to meet Dr. Warren Thorne,” he says, his gaze steady, unwavering, and not giving anything away. “This is my son, Salinger.”

  My eye twitches before I turn and give the man a tight smile. “Sir. Your reputation precedes you. What are you doing in Alaska?”

  “Call me Warren,” the man says, with an ease I don’t feel. “I’ve come here to take a look at your research facilities. The progress your scientists have made is impressive.” I can hear the lie in his voice, see the deception in his eyes. “And to understand this new... family structure you’ve created here. What do you call it? A lottery?”