The Marriage Dare

by Wylder, Penny

  If I lose…

  I have no doubt that Daniel will destroy me. But what choice do I have? Even if he plans to destroy my reputation further, I won’t be in a worse position than I am now. And if I’m married to him, at least I’ll have a place to sleep.

  But first he has to win, and I’m not convinced that he will. Maybe my beginner’s luck was being saved for this, because it somehow knew that this was coming and I’d need it more than those other hands. I don’t have a choice. It’s either this, or I’m sleeping in a shelter by the end of the week.

  I take a sip of the whiskey. “Okay,” I say. “I’ll do it. But only because you’re going to lose and your bank account will be two million lighter tonight.”

  He smirks. “I’ll barely notice that it’s gone. If you win.”

  “Oh, I will.” I say it with a confidence that I don’t entirely feel. But I have to stay focused. I can do this, even if I’m feeling those two glasses of whiskey. The universe has dropped a chance in my lap and I’m going to take it.

  “We’ll see,” Daniel says, standing and reaching out his hand for mine. “Let’s go.”

  3

  Daniel

  There’s more of a buzz running through my veins from Monica’s proximity than any of the whiskey that I’ve had tonight. Now that I made my offer—or set my trap, depending how you think of it—I can’t wait to spring it.

  I wasn’t exactly truthful with Monica. Or rather, I didn’t tell her everything. She did contribute to ruining my life, and I do want revenge. But this is more than just a simple hand of poker. Because my family had no money, and we barely had a home, playing cards was one of the only sources of entertainment that I had. Especially after she smashed that Game Boy. To say that I learned poker would be the understatement of a lifetime.

  I breathed poker. I learned the rules and the statistics of the game. And more than that, I learned how to play the people sitting across from me. Poker is a game of chance, but it’s also a game of manipulation. I saw the way she convinced herself that she had just as good chance of winning as losing. But I know better. She doesn’t know what she’s doing, and she’s not walking out of here with two million dollars. If everything goes my way, she won’t be walking out of the casino at all.

  Poker was the way I made a name for myself. Tournaments between shifts at the auto shop, and eventually enough money to take a chance at the big leagues. I never looked back. I could have retired off of my winnings from poker and taken care of my family for the rest of their lives. But after everything that we went through, “good enough” isn’t my style. So I took those winnings and gathered investors and opened the first Brazen Casino. The right idea at the right time.

  I lead Monica through the casino toward my private poker suite. I hold high stakes games here for VIPs and friends if they’re ever in town. Tonight it will just be Monica and me, and I can’t wait. She’s even more beautiful up close, and more beautiful than I remember. I did tell her the truth when I told her that I’m at war with myself. Everything in me wants to skip the poker game and take her upstairs and fuck her until she’s screaming my name. But I also want to see her brought low. I want Monica Blast to know humiliation and more. I want her on her knees before me—figuratively and literally.

  She’ll beg me. For every single thing that I can give, she’ll beg. I’ll treat her like a queen. Shower her with luxury and then take it away. Give her pleasure that’s never enough. Until she’s crawling after me. Then maybe, once I’ve decided she’s had enough, I’ll relent. Maybe.

  The vision of her kneeling before me fills my head and I’m glad that I’m walking in front of her because I’m instantly hard. Monica has a gorgeous body and even more beautiful face. Perfect lips that I’m dying to see wrapped around my shaft. I want to see her swallow my cum. I want to look into her eyes and see her powerless in front of me. The boy she used to mock and bully. I want her to feel how the tables have turned.

  But that will have to wait. I need to focus now, because I have no intention of losing. There’s a guard—Devon—at the door to my suite, and he nods to me as I approach. Taking a step back, I place my hand on Monica’s bare back—thank God for the way this dress is built—and usher her inside. Her skin distracts me and makes me want to alter the deal. But no. It will be worth it. Monica is going to be mine whether she likes it or not.

  “This is beautiful,” she tells me.

  “Thank you.”

  She’s right, it is. I spent a lot of time on this room, working with a designer. Every choice was intentional. It’s meant to initially be welcoming and disarming, but there are touches that sink in later that add intimidation. Just what you need in a room where you’re trying to win poker. Dark walls and gold sconces create a shadowy atmosphere that’s intimate and just a little dangerous. Red leather furnishings that are incredibly comfortable, but will also stick if you start to sweat. I love to watch people succumb to the design. It happens every time. “Make yourself comfortable.” I gesture to the table in the center of the room.

  She chooses the seat farthest from the door. Not uncommon. She wants to feel safer by seeing the exit, but that choice puts her further in the shadows, and when I sit down, I’m going to be between her and the door and she’s going to know it.

  I don’t make her another drink. She has the remnants of her third whiskey. Instead, I pour a glass of water from the bar and set it in front of her. “You might need that.”

  She smiles at me, that mega-watt smile that I already know is fake. It’s the same smile she gave the dealer right before she went all in on a hand she had a very small chance of winning. “That’s the only thing I’ll need. That and your checkbook.”

  I laugh, “Of course.” I pull out a new deck of cards from the cabinet in the corner and show her that it’s sealed. “So you know I’m not cheating.”

  “And how do you know I’m not cheating?” She holds up her small bag. “I could have pocket aces in here.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “You want to show me inside the bag then?”

  She giggles, a girly sound, and I think the whiskey might be hitting her more than she realizes, but she opens the bag. There’s nothing in it but a tube of lipstick and a pack of gum.

  “I think I’m safe,” I say.

  Monica leans forward, her eyes fastened on me with serious intensity. “I don’t think that. I think you’re dangerous.”

  Sitting across from her but never breaking her gaze, I open the pack of cards. I never get tired of the feeling of fresh cards. It feels like peace and like coming home. I smile at her, intentionally letting warmth shine through. “How am I dangerous?”

  “Handsome men are always dangerous,” she says, leaning over the table in a way that draws my eyes to her breasts. They’re very nearly spilling out of her dress, and I’d prefer them to be spilling into my hands. Maybe later I’ll have the pleasure of feeling them. “They can make you want things that are bad for you.”

  “What sort of things? Two million dollars can’t possibly be bad for you.” I shuffle the cards a couple of times and set them down, then deal out chips for each of us. I give us a thousand dollars each in chips, which should be more than enough for this game.

  “No, and you know that. What would be bad for me would be distracted by that smile of yours so that you can win as easily as you think you’re going to.”

  I raise an eyebrow. Okay. Maybe Monica is more observant than I gave her credit for. But two can play at the flirting game, and here, in the context of this, I can flirt without feeling that familiar guilt that runs through my gut whenever I think of her and the desire I hold for her. Because wooing Monica is a means to a delicious end. “I’m not the only one who has a good smile. I think people could watch your lips all night.”

  “Really?” she asks, blowing me a kiss.

  “Really,” I say, shuffling the cards again and dealing. “I’ve always wanted to know how your lips taste.”

  I see her breath catch, and her
eyes darken. Perfect. She’s imagining what it would be like for me to kiss her, and it’s clear that she likes the idea. The only problem is that I like it too. I want to feel the way she’ll yield when I tease her mouth open and take it. Own it.

  Keep yourself together, Daniel.

  I look at my cards, just the edges of them. Two jacks. Not the worst, not the best either. It limits my possibilities, but it’s a good hand right out of the gate. No need to give away that fact. Yet. “Your bet.”

  Monica looks at her cards, and I can tell that she’s trying to keep her face blank. But she doesn’t. Not to me. Not when I’ve had years of reading people’s smallest expressions trying to decipher everything. Her brow furrows just a tiny bit and her lips purse for a second before she manages herself. Not exactly a bad hand, but she’s determined to work with it regardless.

  “Call.”

  I nod and knock the table. I don’t need to raise the bet yet. We’re fine. I deal out the flop. Four, three, and queen. No help to me there, but I glance at Monica and see her brows rise just a hint, and her fingers twitch. This does help her then. Very well. She swallows, and pushes a hundred-dollar chip into the center of the table. “A hundred.”

  All right, she’s gaining a little confidence. I smile at her. It’s my best smile. The one I use when I want women to melt in front of me. And it works. She’s breathing faster, looking at me. “I call you, and I raise you another hundred.”

  She flinches, but tosses out another chip. I’m still smiling, and she’s still staring at me. “What do you really want, Monica?”

  “That’s not an easy question.”

  “What tripped you up?” I ask, grinning.

  She shakes her head and takes a sip of water. “There’s what I should want. And what I do want.”

  I burn a card and flip the turn, and I freeze my expression. The card is a jack. I now have three of a kind. That’s a damn good hand and her expression tells me that it didn’t help her in the slightest. “What should you want?” I ask as she knocks the table to call. I raise the bet another hundred, and she fingers her own chip.

  “Why are we betting? Aren’t we pretty much all in either way?”

  You are, I say silently. Out loud, I say, “Of course. But betting is just as much a part of the way the game is played as the cards. I could be betting because I have the better hand. But I also could be betting to make you think I have better cards. But you didn’t answer the question.”

  Monica tosses the chip into the center of the table. “I should want to win this poker hand more than anything in the world, and I do. It should be the only thing that I want.” She looks at me involuntarily. Interesting.

  I burn a card and flip the river. A seven. Monica sucks in a breath. So that helped her. She doesn’t have a straight and she doesn’t have a flush or full house. Unless she’s a very good actress, I’m pretty sure that she’s exactly where I want her. There shouldn’t be any hand possible that can beat three of a kind.

  “And what do you actually want?”

  Monica fingers her chips, looking down at the table. “I want none of this to matter. I want all our history too be put aside and for us to pretend that we were two strangers that met in a casino. And to just…see what happens.” Her blue eyes are dark and shining, looking up at me through her lashes. She wants me. And I let a slow smile settle across my lips. I want her too. But she doesn’t realize what I already know, which is that I get what I want, and the way I want it. Even if we were two strangers who met in a casino, everything would still be on my terms. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

  “Maybe you’ll be the rich stranger that I come across at the bar,” I say. “Maybe we’ll see what happens.”

  She peeks at her pocket cards again, and smiles. Then she pushes her chips to the center of the table. “All in. We don’t have a choice anyway.”

  “You’re right,” I say, pushing my own stack in. “Let’s see.”

  She flips over her cards, and reveals a queen and a seven. Two pair. Not bad. It could have gone her way. But it didn’t.

  “Your turn,” she says, practically bouncing with energy.

  I flip my cards, and I watch the color drain from her face as she goes still. Then she stands up so quickly she knocks the chair over. “You cheated.”

  I narrow my eyes. “That’s your first response? That I cheated? That’s rich, coming from you, Princess.” Color floods back into her face in a furious blush. “You don’t know who I am sweetheart.” I nod to the wall behind her near the door, the one she passed on the way in and didn’t give a second look. The wall that’s covered in plaques that show my poker history. Not all of them. I’d need another room for that.

  Monica turns back to me, eyes blazing. “This isn’t legal, you know. You can’t just force me to marry you. We don’t live in ancient Scotland. You can’t just…carry me off and make me your bride.”

  I stare at her. She’s incredibly beautiful when she’s angry. The flush on her cheeks tells me what the color of her skin will be like when she’s flushed with desire, and I want to see that pink on every inch of her skin. Even though her dress doesn’t fit well—even more because of that fact—it leaves little to the imagination, and I take my time drawing my gaze down her body and back.

  “You’re right,” I say. “We didn’t have a written agreement, and I’m not going to kidnap you.” She straightens, expression trending toward smug, thinking once again, that she’s won. “But imagine for a second the game had gone the other way. I could easily use the same argument. It’s not legal, I don’t have to give you two million dollars. Do you think you would have thought our bet was legal then?”

  Monica’s hands ball into fists, and she grits her jaw so hard, if she were closer to me I think I’d hear her teeth crack. “So no,” I say. “You don’t have to marry me. But you will.”

  “Why?”

  “Because if you don’t, I’ll tell the world that you’re a liar, and a cheat, and a scammer, just like dear old daddy.”

  She hisses out a breath and takes a step back like I just struck her. And in a way I did. I knew that would get a reaction. Monica had nothing to do with her father’s indiscretions. I know that, and she’s clearly desperate to get away from that image. But the instincts are there. I can see them. Written in the lines of her face and that brilliant smile that she uses to mask and manipulate. That thing that made her stand up and call me a cheater.

  She’s glaring at me now, all sign of arousal and desire gone. “Fine,” she spits out. “I’ll marry you. You can steal my life. I’ll belong to you, and you’ll have the paper to prove it. But I’ll never love you. I swear that you’ll never have that. My heart will always be my own. You can hate me and I’ll hate you. A match made in heaven.”

  I take a breath to calm my body down, that anger and spark making me want to cross the room, slam her against the wall and kiss her and never stop. But I get control of myself. This is perfect. Because she’s given me one more weapon to use against her, and I absolutely will.

  Standing, I cross the room slowly, steadily. She backs away until she’s against that same wall that I wanted to push her against, and I don’t stop until I’m crowding her, so close to touching her but still a breath away. “Let me make a couple things clear. First, if you call me a cheater again, there will be consequences. You won’t like them. Second, I think I’ve made it obvious that I’m good at getting what I want. I don’t need your heart, Monica.”

  I let her breathe for a moment, looking up at me. It’s hard to ignore the way her chest is rising and falling rapidly. She’s affected by my closeness even if she doesn’t want to be.

  “I don’t need your heart,” I say again, “but I’ll have it. But not just that. I’ll take your mind, your soul, and your body too. You’re going to give them to me. You’re going to beg me to take them.”

  “Never.” The word is low and fervent, even as she leans closer, her body begging me to kiss her.

  “We�
��ll see,” I say. And I smile.

  4

  Monica

  This can’t be happening to me. Really? Is it?

  I lost. I really didn’t think I would. I mean, I know that two pair isn’t the best hand in poker, but no way did I think he would have three of a kind with all those bullshit cards! I had convinced myself…

  I don’t know. Maybe I let the whiskey get in the way of my brain. Maybe I let how sexy he was distract me. Maybe the universe can go fuck itself for not giving me a single beginner’s luck win. Or maybe—and this is the truth, even if I don’t want it to be—he played me. I had no idea that he had made this fortune by being amazing at poker. Though the evidence was right there for me to see when I entered the room, I just didn’t notice.

  How exactly did I think that he just happened to luck into owning Brazen Casinos? The money to start this place had to come from somewhere. And he probably knew that I wouldn’t overthink it, because up until recently, money was just readily available to me, I never had to question where it was coming from. But he did.

  Funny, really. It’s the rags to riches story in reverse. I went from having everything to nothing. And he went from nothing to everything. I can’t ignore the relief I feel, even if I hate it. There are worse fates than marrying who’s worth is likely in the billions. Even if he wants to tear me apart. All I know is that I won’t be sleeping on the street in a week, and that feels good. Like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders, even if I would much rather have walked out of here with two million dollars.

  But just like the last few years of my life, I’ll deal with it.

  I’m sitting now in the penthouse suite of this building. It’s Daniel’s private suite, and it’s fucking glorious. The windows overlook the sparkling city, and the couch I’m sitting on easily costs more than some people’s yearly salary. Just like the poker room downstairs, it’s tasteful and luxurious. It reminds me a lot of what my family’s holdings used to look like when I was younger. Back when we spent money like it was water and didn’t care about the waste of it.