Hating My New Husband (Hate Love Book 3) Read online

  “He is,” I mumble, staring still.

  I find it hard to believe that Davis would pick something so… tasteful.

  It’s a simple dress with a scoop neckline that just barely shows a hint of my breasts, Kacey long sleeves, a simple bust, and a wide lacey skirt. It’s elegant, simple, and timeless.

  “I tried to sell him on another one, but he insisted on this one,” Elaine says. “Set him back a hundred thousand dollars, but what’s that matter to a man like him? Oh, I’m sure you know all this already, dear.”

  I stare at myself, horror descending. One hundred thousand dollars. Five hundred thousand for the ring.

  I’m wearing six hundred thousand dollars.

  For a second, I want to scream.

  But I do look pretty. I really do. Actually, I look like someone else, like a fairy tale version of myself.

  It’s terrifying.

  There’s a knock at the door and Avah pokes her head in. “Ready?” she asks, and does a double take. “Wow. You look hot. But classy hot.”

  I smile at her and I feel some of the ice inside of me break. “Thanks.”

  “You okay?”

  I nod. “Fine.”

  She frowns and gives me a look that says, you can run away if you want, but I just smile again.

  “Really, I’m fine.”

  “Okay,” she says. “Nerves are normal. Anyway, we’re getting started.”

  Elaine clears her throat and steps back. I have to tear myself away from the mirror.

  I plaster a smile on my face.

  “Let’s do it,” I say. “Let’s get married.”

  Avah smiles at me and steps fully into the room. I stare at her and for a second. I feel like the ugliest person ever. She’s wearing a gorgeous blue dress that follows her curves perfectly, stylish and chic, showing just enough of her breasts to be alluring but still on the right side of appropriate.

  She offers me her arm and I hesitate, but I take it. She’s taller than me, but it doesn’t matter. She’ll upstage me anyway.

  Not like it matters. This is a fake freaking wedding, after all.

  Although it’s legal. And as far as anyone else is concerned, it’s real.

  Avah leads me from the back room into the main office. It’s completely transformed now into an open space with chairs on either side. The staff is sitting in them and they cheer as I enter, standing up and grinning like mad.

  Avah walks me down the aisle. Davis is standing up front with Jeremy and a man I assume is a minister. He’s older, gray, round-faced, round glasses, kind smile. Avah leads me to my spot, deposits me across from Davis, and stands back behind me.

  “I thought she was your best man,” I whisper to him.

  “I decided to lend her to you for now,” he whispers back, grinning. “Well, actually, she made me. But still.”

  I smile and feel some part of me loosen up. Davis’s grin is genuine as he takes my hands and the minister begins.

  “Dearly beloved,” The minster begins, then clears his throat. “Employees of Bison, we are gathered here to witness the union of Carly Miller with Davis King…”

  As the minister goes on, I stare into Davis’s eyes, keeping a smile plastered on my face.

  I keep drifting between confusion, revulsion, anger, and excitement. I don’t know what any of it means or why I’m putting myself through this, and then I meet Davis’s gaze again, his handsome eyes burning into mine, and I’m reminded what I’m here for.

  Money. Lots and lots of Money.

  And this man. My husband…

  “Do you, Carly, take this man as your husband, to have and to hold, until death do you part?”

  “I do,” I say softly.

  “And you, Davis, do you take this woman as your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, until death do you part?”

  “I do.” Davis smirks, eyes staring into mine.

  I’m marrying this man. Right here, right now, I’m marrying him for real. It’s insane and I can barely understand what’s happening. I mean, yesterday I was just another girl going on a job interview.

  Now I’m marrying a rich asshole to get him a green card.

  “By the power invested in me by the State of Pennsylvania, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

  I don’t have time to think about this part. Davis comes at me, pulls me against him, and kisses me.

  The room goes wild. Clapping, cheering, hollering, like it’s the end of the Super Bowl and their team just won.

  It would be disorienting if I could hear any of it at all.

  As soon as his lips touch mine, I’m in a new world. It’s the same world as before, but in this world, I’m kissing Davis. I’m kissing the man I’ve hated for years, ever since he broke my heart. I’m kissing the one person I’ve always promised I’d never touch.

  And I really, really like it.

  That’s the worst part. It feels so good, like it’s the culmination of years of want and desire just flooding through me.

  It’s our first kiss, right here, at our wedding, in front of a room full of strangers.

  And just as soon as it starts, he pulls away. I stand by his side, flustered, as he grabs my hand and holds it up. The room cheers and we walk down the aisle together as music plays from somewhere. I’m totally overwhelmed again, flushed and blushing and breathing fast.

  I’m married. I’m seriously married.

  He leads me back to his office. He shuts the door, closing out the sound of the wedding. He pulls the blinds closed and suddenly it’s like none of that happened.

  “Good job,” he says to me casually, walking over to his wardrobe and taking off his jacket again.

  “Uh… thanks.”

  “Very convincing. Especially the part where you loved every second of that kiss.”

  I nearly gag. “Excuse me?”

  He pauses, looking surprised. “When I kissed you, you loved it.” He cocks his head. “Or you are actually a good actress.”

  “You asshole,” I say, anger flaring up again. “I didn’t enjoy that at all. You think I’d enjoy anything about this… this… ambush wedding?”

  He laughs and sits down. “I’m sorry. I didn’t have time to fill you in on all the details.”

  “Did you pull this together overnight or something?”

  He grins, shrugs. “Maybe.”

  “How did you even make it happen? Seriously, Davis, what is with you?”

  I stalk toward him, cheeks hot, this time with rage.

  “Oh, come on, Carly. You know me.”

  “I do know you. I remember a spoiled, selfish asshole. You haven’t changed.;”

  He laughs softly. “I’ve changed a lot. I can tell your temper hasn’t.”

  I glare at him. “Whatever. It’s done, we’re married. Happy?”

  “I am happy,” he says softly. “I think you are, too. Even though you don’t want to admit it.”

  “I’m happy I don’t have to go through that again.”

  He rolls his eyes and suddenly stands. “You’re telling me that if I kissed you, right here and now, you’d be upset?”

  “Absolutely. We’re not acting right now.”

  He comes around the desk, staring at me. “Liar.”

  “I’m not lying.” I step back as he comes closer, nearly stumbling over the train of my dress. I curse and he closes the distance between us, grabbing me and pulling me against him.

  I catch my breath and look up into his eyes.

  “Come on, Carly,” he says softly. “You loved that kiss. And besides, you’re my wife now. Why not enjoy it?”

  “There’s nothing to enjoy. Except the money you’ll pay me when this is over.”

  He grins at me. “Maybe,” he whispers, leaning closer. My heart flutters in my chest. “But I think you’d rather get another taste right this second.”

  We stay like that, suspended in the moment. There’s a voice in the back of my mind screaming at me, telling me to push him
away, but I can barely hear that voice.

  Because the louder voice is begging me to kiss him again.

  I want to taste him, he’s right, and I hate it. I want to taste him so badly it almost hurts. He drives me absolutely wild, but he’s such a selfish asshole.

  We hang there, suspended in the moment.

  But the door opens, and Avah steps inside, breaking the moment. She looks at us, a little surprise in her eyes. Davis grins and steps away from me.

  “What do you think?” he asks Avah without any preamble.

  “It went well,” she says, ignoring what she just saw. My cheeks are bright red again, and I have to look away from them.

  “They expect we’ll go on our honeymoon now, right?” Davis asks.

  “Right,” she says. “Will you?”

  He shrugs. “We’ll move Carly into my place and go from there.”

  “Okay,” Avah says. “If you do go away, the jet is ready to take you anywhere—”

  “Hold on,” I say, interrupting. “Move into your place?”

  He cocks his head at me. “Of course. You think my wife is going to stay in her old apartment?”

  I frown. Obviously, I hadn’t thought of that, but of course it makes sense.

  “We’ll move you in starting tonight,” Avah says to me, smiling kindly. “I think you were already at his house yesterday?”

  I glance at Davis and nod. “I think so.”

  “Good. You’ll be comfortable there, don’t worry.” She glances at Davis. “He’s not all that bad, you know.”

  Davis laughs. “A ringing endorsement.”

  “For now, let’s get you changed again and head back to your apartment to pack, okay?”

  I nod at her, grateful for her kindness. She leads me back through the office, back into the changing room.

  As I put my old clothes on, I keep thinking about that ceremony and about the ring on my finger. Avah comes in and brings me the marriage license to sign, which I do without hesitation.

  I’m in this now. Might as well make it official.

  Once I’m done, Avah points at the dress. “That’s yours now,” she says.

  I pause. “Isn’t it crazy expensive?”

  She nods. “I’d sell it if I were you. Anyway, let’s go.”

  I grab the dress, not sure what I’m going to do with it. I follow Avah out the door and through a back hallway to the elevators.

  Back there, back in his office, my husband is working.

  My new husband. The man I hate.

  I don’t know how I got myself into this mess, but I won’t let him beat me. I’m going to earn that money and never, ever see that bastard again.

  4

  Davis

  I get home late on the night of my wedding. After work, I stopped by one of my favorite bars with Jeremy and had some drinks, lamenting the life of a single man.

  “You’re not really married, you know,” he had said to me back at the bar.

  “For all intents and purposes, I definitely am,” I told him, and took a big sip of whisky.

  Now, back at my house, I can already see differences. Bags are piled in the foyer, keys I don’t recognize are in a bowl in the hallway. I can smell food in the kitchen, and the television is playing some reality TV show I haven’t seen since college.

  I don’t know why I’m doing this to myself. Well, I guess I do. I need to break Niko, and I’m willing to do anything to make that rat fuck pay.

  Still, marriage…

  I never pictured myself married.

  Being single suited me just fine. If I got lonely, I found someone to spend time with me. If I wanted to fuck, I picked up a girl and took her home.

  Being single was fun. It was satisfying.

  Now, though, I’m married. No more running around. I have to take this seriously or else risk getting both me and Carly thrown in jail. And I can’t do that to her.

  I sigh and grumble to myself as I walk down the hall and step into the kitchen.

  And spot Carly sitting on the couch, in front of the TV.

  She looks over at me. Her hair’s piled up in a messy bun on her head and she’s wearing a pair of tight black yoga pants, brown Ugg boots, and an old t-shirt. She’s not wearing makeup and she’s clutching a pillow in her lap.

  And she looks fucking beautiful.

  All at once, I understand why I did this. All at once, I realize why I wanted this so badly.

  Carly smiles at me, and I smile back.

  For a second, I forget she fucking hates my guts. I can pretend that we’re really married.

  Fucking Carly. Beautiful, fiery, sexy Carly.

  “What were you doing all night, asshole?”

  I’m brought back to reality pretty quickly.

  “Celebrating,” I say, leaning against the kitchen counter. “You?”

  “Hauling boxes.” She glares at me. “I notice that you weren’t around to help.”

  I shrug. “I assumed Avah hired some guys.”

  “She did.”

  “Then you’re all taken care of.”

  “Thanks, hubby.” She turns away from me, staring at the TV.

  I feel a sudden irrational jolt of anger. I storm into the living room and stand in front of the television. I cross my arms and glare at her until she pauses her show.

  “I understand you hate me,” I say softly. “But now that you’ve signed the contract and gone through with the ceremony, you’re all mine. You do understand that, don’t you?”

  She shakes her head. “I’m only yours to a point. Beyond that…”

  I smirk, cocking my head. “You have no clue what you signed away.”

  For a moment, uncertainty flashes across her expression. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter.”

  “Oh, but it does.” I step toward her. “Tomorrow, I want you to wear a very short dress. Make it borderline inappropriate.”

  She blinks. “Excuse me?”

  “Short dress. Tomorrow. I want to see your ass shake when you walk.”

  Her eyes go wide. “You can’t make me do that.”

  “Yes, I can.” I walk over to her and look down. “I definitely can.”

  She glares at me. “Don’t be a dick, Davis.”

  “I’m not joking.” I bend down and put one finger under her chin, tilting her face up toward me. She blinks and bites her lip. “Wear a short dress. I want to see you wearing it tomorrow morning when I come down for breakfast. Do you understand?”

  She says nothing, just gives me a hard stare. I smile and nod to myself before stepping away from her.

  I leave her there in the living room, smiling to myself.

  This is why I got married.

  Oh, yes, this is definitely why.

  Now I remember.

  Playing this game with Carly is going to be very, very fun. We’ll just have to see who breaks first.

  I wake like a kid on Christmas morning.

  It’s a little past nine when I roll out of bed. I haven’t slept so soundly or so long in ages, but I feel refreshed as the sunlight streams in through my window.

  I brush my teeth and shower before getting dressed. I choose a simple pair of jeans and a button-down shirt. I pull on socks before padding down the steps.

  As I pass Carly’s room, I note that the door’s ajar. I peek my head in and find the space messy as hell, her bags half unpacked, clothes strewn all over.

  But the room’s empty. Her bathroom door stands open and empty as well.

  I smile to myself and head downstairs. I resist the urge to whistle a little tune as excitement flows through my body.

  I get halfway down the steps when the smell of cooking eggs, bacon, and coffee assaults me. I haven’t had breakfast cooked in this house… well, ever. I’ve always had it delivered. I’m grinning as I hit the bottom step and turn toward the kitchen.

  Carly’s standing in front of the stove, cooking something in the frying pan. I have to assume it’s eggs, based on the mess I see around her. Part of me w
ants to clean it up, but my eyes are instantly drawn to her body, and I forget all about the mess.

  A smile spreads across my face.

  The dress is short, tight, and black. It barely covers her ass, which is tight and round, just like I requested.

  “Good morning, dear,” I say.

  She turns to me. She’s wearing a little white apron and holding a spatula in her hand.

  “Good morning,” she says, almost chipper. “Hungry?”

  “Absolutely.” I frown a little bit, suddenly feeling suspicious. “Why are you cooking?”

  “What, I can’t cook for my husband?” She smiles sweetly at me.

  I cross my arms. “Did you poison it?”

  She laughs. “Can’t collect my money if I kill you.”

  “Maybe, although we are married now,” I point out.

  She hesitates a second and I think I can actually see her consider murdering me.

  Instead, she laughs. “Relax, Davis.” She looks over her shoulder. “I’m trying to play along, okay?”

  I relax a little bit. I walk over and step up right behind her. She hesitates, surprised, as I take her wrist and move the spatula away from the eggs. I take the pan off the heat and turn off the burner.

  She looks over her shoulder. “Thanks, they were done,” she murmurs.

  I grab her hips and pull her ass against my hard dick. She makes a sound, half surprised yelp, half moan. I smirk and pull her from the stove, backing her up against the island.

  She stares at me, biting her lip, as I pin her there.

  “What’s your game, Carly?” I whisper in her ear.

  “No game. Just playing my role.”

  I chuckle darkly. “I don’t believe you, sweetheart. You hate me. We both know it.”

  “I’m wearing the dress,” she says, and she actually blushes, although she sounds annoyed. “I’m cooking for you. I’m playing along. I just want this to go smoothly, okay?”

  I smirk, lips grazing her throat. “Smoothly, you say?” I grab her hips, hoist her up onto the counter. She gasps as I push her legs open. “Exactly how smoothly do you want it to go?”

  She bites her lips and grabs my hair. “Careful,” she says, but she doesn’t push me back.

  I push her legs open wider.