The Marriage Dare

by Wylder, Penny

  The next card on the table is a four. Holy shit. I mean…it could be. Someone folds, but I don’t. It could be that famous beginner’s luck kicking in. The universe knows how much I need it. The money I have sitting in front of me is all that I have left, and it’s not enough to pay any of the bills that are hanging over my head. But if I won this. That at least would be a start.

  Across the table, a man stops to observe the game. He’s standing in the shadows, but even from here, I feel a hitch in my chest. He’s gorgeous. Dark suit that clings to him like it was tailored within an inch of its life—and in a place like this, it probably was. Broad shoulders and trim waist and enough stubble on his jaw to give an air of insolence even if he’s put together like a perfectly designed package.

  He’s watching our table. Actually, he’s watching me. I pretend not to notice and turn on my most brilliant smile. I’ve got this. This is my hand. I’m going to win it. The universe owes me that much. When the bet comes to me, I push my chips forward. “All in.”

  The dealer looks at me, and then at cards on the table. “You sure?”

  “I am.”

  He simply shrugs. Only one other person at the table has the guts to go all in with me, but that’s too bad, because he’s about to lose a lot of money. Across the table I see the handsome man in the shadows smile. God, that smile gives me goosebumps. It’s a smile that’s meant for darkness and pleasure and whispered words.

  I smile back. Maybe this win will make him come talk to me. I think I’d like that. Money and a handsome man to talk to would be a start toward making this day better. Hell, toward making this year better.

  The dealer burns a card and flips the last one.

  It’s a seven.

  Oh my God.

  No.

  No, that’s not what was supposed to happen! I’m dumbstruck by it, especially when the other man who went all in flips his cards and reveals that he had two spades matching the three on the table. I hadn’t even noticed that they were all spades. Shit.

  The dread swirling in my stomach is overwhelming, and I watch the dealer reign in all of my chips—the only money I have left, and give it to the man on the other side of the table. But never let them see you sweat. Never.

  I flash a smile at the dealer and the rest of the table. “You win some, you lose some. Thank you for the games.” And then I step off the chair, careful to gather up the too-long train of my dress so I don’t trip, and flee as quickly as possible. I need somewhere to think and breathe. I knew that this was a stupid idea. I knew it, and I did it anyway. Because I just needed some kind of hope. I needed to believe that some kind of miracle could happen to get me out of this place I’m in. But miracles aren’t real. I might as well have spent that money on lottery tickets for all the good those games did me.

  I’ve known that for a long time now.

  Across the casino floor is a bar that’s relatively quiet. Dimmer lights and calmer music, generally less frantic than the neon lights and high energy of the rest of the casino. Perfect. I tuck myself onto a stool in the corner where I hope no one will notice me, and I try to take a deep breath.

  I don’t get very far. It feels like my lungs won’t take in air, and tears are threatening to rise up and overwhelm me. What do I do now? I have nowhere to go. Absolutely nothing to my name. The shelters around here are decent, though I never thought that when I did research into them that I’d actually have to take advantage of them. Never.

  There’s a clink of glass as one of the women behind the bar sets down a glass at my elbow, and I look up, startled. It looks like whiskey. “I didn’t order this,” I say. Not only did I not order it, there’s no way that I can afford it and I don’t want to fight with anyone over a bill that I don’t owe.

  “I know,” she says, smiling. “He did.” She points to a man standing a few feet away, and I startle. I hadn’t even noticed him get that close. But I immediately recognize that he’s the handsome man who was watching the poker match that just spectacularly blew up in my face.

  He approaches, and I get to see him more closely. What I had thought was handsome turns out to be devastatingly gorgeous. Chiseled jaw with the right kind of stubble—the kind that you want to feel on your thighs. He looks vaguely familiar, but I must be crazy because I’m pretty sure that I would remember someone like him. Any woman with eyes and an imagination would remember that face and put it to good use with her hand between her legs.

  There’s a little smile on his lips, and he lifts his own drink in salute. I put on my best beauty queen smile. “Thank you for the drink.”

  He laughs softly, and it’s almost like a purr. I swear that I can feel that sound in my gut, making me long to lean forward to get closer. “You looked like you might need it, after that last hand.”

  I toss my hair over my shoulder, taking a sip of the whiskey. God, that’s good. Definitely top shelf. And goddamn right I need a drink. “I was tired of playing,” I say. “I figured I should go out big.”

  “You were tired of playing after only three hands?” he asks. “I don’t think that’s true, but you’re as cocky as you ever were.”

  “What?” I’m confused. He’s talking to me like he knows me, but I’ve never been in this casino before. And I’m pretty sure I’ve never met him before.

  He takes another step forward and extends his hand. “I’m Daniel. It’s a long time, no see, Monica.”

  A bunch of things click together in my head, and my mouth literally drops open. Okay. I have seen him before. Have met him. But I haven’t seen him in years. Not since we were both teenagers. Daniel Argent. The skinny boy who lived next door. I can’t say that I was exactly kind to him, even if I wanted to be. But that was a long time ago and things were very, very different then. “Daniel,” I say, as I take his hand. “Wow. I…did not expect that.”

  “No,” he says, “I wouldn’t think so. Why would you remember somebody like me?”

  I flush, embarrassed at his assessment, but I can’t exactly disagree with it. I was merciless when I was younger. I thought that the world belonged to me, and I never knew anything about true hardship. That, I’ve been learning about recently, and the crash course hasn’t been fun, though it may have been necessary.

  I take another sip of the drink to steady myself. “How have you been?”

  “I’m doing all right,” he says with a simple shrug of his shoulders. “Brazen is doing very well. I’m very pleased with expansion.”

  I can’t stop the gasp that escapes me. “Brazen? As in Brazen Casinos? You own them?”

  He nods. “Every last one.”

  Wow. Okay. “That’s amazing. Really. I’m happy you’ve done so well for yourself.”

  “Are you?” he asks, tilting his head. “The Monica I knew wouldn’t be pleased about that. Though from the state of that dress, you’re not exactly the Monica I used to know.”

  The blush is in full force on my face and I have to look away from him. “What’s wrong with my dress?” The words come out softly, and I’m not sure I want to know what he has to say about my appearance, but I suddenly can’t stop myself. I need to know.

  “I grew up poor. I can see a dress that doesn’t belong to you. It doesn’t fit. It’s too long, and the hem is in disrepair. Most women who come into my casino take pride in their appearance.”

  The words cut deep, and my anger overcomes my embarrassment. “This dress is mine. Just from a long time ago. The Daniel I knew wouldn’t judge someone because they were wearing older clothes.”

  He leans closer, eyes burning. “The Daniel you knew took a lot more shit than I do, Princess.”

  Oh my God. The word princess hits me right in the gut, and even though he’s looking at me like I’m the last person in the world he wants to be sitting with, I want him to close the distance. I want him to kiss me. I want to feel his anger transmuted into something deeper, and hotter. He sees it in my eyes, and smiles. When he leans back into his chair, I’m left practically panting with the ne
ed for him to come closer again.

  “So you need money,” he says. “How the mighty have fallen? Never thought I’d see the day when the Blast Dynasty wanted for anything.”

  I freeze. “So you don’t know what happened?”

  “No. Tell me.”

  “I’ll save my breath. One google search will tell you what you need to know.”

  He raises an eyebrow, but pulls out his phone and reads. I know exactly what he’ll find. That my father, Andrew Blast, the famous real estate mogul and hedge fund genius, was pulling shady shit. Cutting corners and endangering people’s lives with the construction he built, and all in order to save money. As far his investments, they were all a sham, most of the money going into his pocket. He did it for years. The construction business caused millions of dollars in damage, maybe more. Thousands of people lost their retirements and livelihood because they invested with him.

  My father is in jail now, but in a prison that might as well be a country club. He turned over the names of a lot of people to make a deal with the federal agents investigating him, and in return he gets to live out his sentence in a place that’s a glorified hotel. My family’s entire fortune is gone, covering the thousands of lawsuits and settlements. Fixing the safety issues he created in his buildings and rebuilding the life savings of people far worse off than we ever were. His decisions have led to the death of over 100 people, and even though I had nothing to do with any of it, it destroyed my life.

  My law degree is utterly worthless because no one will hire me. No one wants a Blast working for them, and it’s too late to change my name and start over. The damage has been done. I don’t even blame them. I have a recognizable face due to my stint on the pageant circuit and the fact that my father was known across the country. Unless I undergo massive plastic surgery, I’m left with the reputation that he left me.

  My mother basically went into hiding. I have no idea where she is, and haven’t heard from her in years. I miss her, even though she wasn’t the best mom. I don’t blame her for any of this. She was a victim too. I truly believe that.

  So now I’m jobless, about to be homeless, broke and sitting in a casino with a man who I tortured when we were kids. And he’s now rich and sexy as fuck. As an objective observer, I don’t see how this situation could get any worse.

  Daniel’s eyes flick back up to mine, appraising me in the light of the new information that he now has. “I’m surprised that I didn’t hear about this.”

  “So am I,” I say. “I feel like everyone has at this point. More people than you can count feel the way that you do—they’re thanking God that the Blast Dynasty has crumbled. I’m untouchable now. Everyone hates the Blasts, and I can’t find a job anywhere because of what he did.”

  “What do you do now?”

  I sigh, because I’ve heard the question before from people who knew me when I was young. They expect me to say something vapid and frivolous. But I left that behind a while ago. “I’m a lawyer. Or at least I was attempting to be. I can’t even fault people for not wanting me on their payroll. But the result of that is what you see: Monica Blast in an old dress using the last of her money on beginner’s luck.”

  Daniel tilts his head to the side just a fraction, studying me. “I’ll make you an offer, if you’ll let me.”

  “An offer?”

  “More of a wager,” he says, taking a sip of his own drink. I watch the way he swallows, and I never thought that watching that motion could be sexy. But his throat moves, and I want to see what’s connected to the rest of him beneath that suit. Daniel is a perfect example why you should never judge someone. If I had had to take bets on who Daniel Argent would turn out to be as an adult, this would not have been it.

  In fact, if someone had asked me to describe what I thought he looked like now, I would have thought maybe someone skinnier, with a job in IT. Not a powerful man in a suit who runs—owns—the country’s biggest chain of luxury casinos. I have no idea what he’s going to offer me, but it’s too intriguing of a statement for me not to find out. “What is it?”

  He places his glass on the bar slowly. Deliberately. “I’ll give you two million dollars if you play a hand of poker with me.”

  The words startle my spine straight. Two million dollars? That’s an absurd amount of money for one game of poker. But it’s also exactly what I need. Two million would solve all of my debt, and if I managed it well, allow me to live for years while I figure out how to get rid of the stain attached to my name. “Do I have to win?”

  Daniel nods once. “Yes.”

  “I don’t have anything to play with,” I say. “As I previously stated, I’m broke. I have nothing. Your dealer over there took the last of my money in that unfortunate hand. I have nothing to offer.”

  He raises his hand, and the bartender appears again with a drink identical to the one that I hold in my hand, even though I haven’t finished the first one. “Drink that,” he nods to the glass in my hand. “You’re going to need it when you hear the rest of my proposal, I think.”

  That doesn’t exactly bode well, but I can’t say that I actually have a choice right now. I knock back what’s left of the whiskey and hand the empty glass to the bartender. The new glass is there waiting for me, but I don’t pick it up yet, savoring the burn of the alcohol in my throat. I can feel it settle over me like a blanket. “Okay.”

  “When you say that you have nothing to offer,” Daniel says, “that’s not exactly true.”

  “What do you want?” Nerves sizzle in my gut, because I’m desperate, and he knows that. I’m in the weakest position to strike a bargain.

  He smiles, and I try not to get distracted by how fucking sexy he’s become. “If you win, you get two million dollars. If I win, you marry me.”

  A laugh escapes me, and I pull it back. That has to be a joke, right? No one bets marriage on poker. Especially not men as rich as Daniel. Besides, he doesn’t even like me. “You’re joking?” I notice that he’s not laughing with me. His eyes are deadly serious, and he hasn’t moved an inch. “Oh God, you’re serious,” I say. He nods once.

  He was right, I do need the drink. I grab the glass and drink it down in one long go, practically begging it to overtake me and make me forget that this is happening and where I am. Daniel chuckles now, because he was absolutely right about me, and we both know that.

  A third drink appears at my elbow, and I pick it up, taking a sip but not downing it. I can’t go too fast or I’m going to agree to something that I regret entirely. “You want me to marry you?”

  “Yes.” The answer is simple and direct. No evasion.

  “Why?” I can’t wrap my head around it. It doesn’t make a whole lot of sense to me.

  Daniel sighs. “Because I’ve never stopped thinking about you. You’re present in everything I do, and every decision I make. The way you treated me—bullied me—it changed me as a person. It taught me how to survive, and how to be ruthless. And even though you were a horrifying bitch to me, I wanted you. I worshipped the ground that you walked on. I hated myself for wanting you, and I hated you for being so damn appealing.

  “And then your father happened. He bought every piece of property in the neighborhood out from underneath people. You had already moved away by then. He had a big corporation on his side, wanted to turn the place into condos. My family didn’t have the money to fight it, and the money he offered wasn’t nearly enough. We didn’t have anywhere to go. We scraped by. I had to drop out of school to help make ends meet. My mother was already in poor health, and the stress of everything, along with moving from place to place so often, ruined her health. He ruined everything.”

  Guilt clenches in my gut. I know a lot of these stories. I’ve heard so many from people who want to tell me all the horrible things that my father did. I know the statistics. And I know that there are a thousand other stories like Daniel’s. But still, it’s different hearing it from someone you grew up with. Who you knew.

  “But I didn’t know
your father,” Daniel continues. “I just knew you. Perfect Monica Blast who got everything that she wanted while the people around her suffered. And I didn’t hate your father—I hated you.”

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper. There’s nothing that I’ll ever be able to do to change the past or help the people that my family stepped on. And there’s no way I’ll ever be able to relieve myself of the guilt, even if I didn’t do any of it. “But I still don’t understand. If you hate me that much then why do you want me to marry you?”

  The way Daniel smiles now is feral. Predatory. I see the ruthless businessman he’s become to create a place like Brazen, and it makes me shiver with fear and desire equally. “Like I said. Even though you had a part in ruining my life, it made me stronger. It made me who I am today. My family is well cared for now, and healthy because I’ve made my fortune. Though I’ll admit, I’m still warring myself and my emotions when it comes to you.”

  Curiosity strikes me. “Oh?”

  “I want to thank you, for helping me to forge all this. But I also want to destroy you. I want to take my revenge and show you exactly what you did. I want to fuck you and make you mine and then expose you for the spoiled princess that you are. But no matter what I want, I can’t do any of it if you’re not with me. By my side. So if you lose, marry me.”

  My gut has plummeted through the floor. I shouldn’t be so fucking attracted to a man who has just said that he wants to own me solely so that he can destroy me and pick me apart piece by piece. But my mind catches on the words that he wants to fuck me and make me his. My body reacts to that like I’m being lit on fire, desire dampening between my legs. “Just like that?”

  “Just like that,” he says. “Become a part of my life.”

  The way he says it, it’s like it’s a done deal. But it’s not. The other part of it is that it’s left up to chance. If I win, I get my freedom. Two million dollars is a lot of money, and even though I just lost that hand, I’m not a complete idiot when it comes to poker.