005: Two Can Play This Game

HAYDEN

I hate her. I hate her for making me feel like this. For putting me in a position where I want her, even though I betrayed her. Even though I've spent years convincing myself that I'm untouchable, unbroken, and unfeeling.

I hate her because I can't stop looking at her.

I hate her for how she's made me question everything I thought I knew about control. About power. About myself.

But most of all... I hate that I can't hate her enough.

When my grandmother, queen of the Wolfe conglomerate had threatened to make me step down from my position if I didn't end my 'playboy ways', I'd been beyond pissed. I hadn't been able to feel anything for any woman not since Eden.

But fate did its thing and brought a platter of gold on my table when Eden's father visited that night.

My bride stops in front of me now, close enough that I can smell her sweet perfume. Her lips twitch into the faintest, fakest smile for the cameras, but I can feel her rage underneath it.

The night of the bet flashes behind my eyes. Her tears. Her broken expression when she realized it wasn't love, it was a game. My game.

She never yelled or hit me. She just looked at me like she'd seen the worst part of me. Truly, she had.

My hands clench at my sides. I shouldn't want to touch her. Not after what I did. But my body moves nonetheless, reaching for her hand.

“Do you, Hayden Christopher Wolfe..." the priest's voice is steady and loud enough for everyone to hear, "take Eden Ruby Clarke to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, till death do you part?"

“I do," I say, my gaze locked on hers.

“And do you, Eden Clarke..." he continues, but I zone out, my gaze fixed on her.

“Yes. I do," she drones, fire burning in her eyes.

“Then by the power vested in me..." the priest says, his voice rising slightly, "I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride."

I lift her veil. She barely reacts.

“Behave," I murmur as I lean in.

“Make me," she whispers back.

I kiss her and without warning, her teeth rips into my lower lip and I taste blood.

I don't pull away, instead I kiss her harder, causing her to gasp. Two can play this game.

When I finally draw back, she smirks. The crowd is oblivious of our little cat and mouse fight. They applaud. After all, this is the perfect performance.

.……

By the time, the wedding is over, Grandma walks up to my wife and I, her red lipstick coated lips stretched in a big smile. She embraces me, patting my back.

“I am so proud of you, muffinhead," she says and I groan, embarrassed.

“Granny, please don't call me that," I sigh.

She ignores me and turns to look at Eden, cupping her face.

“Oh, my sweet angel. Thank you for putting up with my grandson. He's a handful most of the time. Feel free to come to me anytime, okay? Keep an eye out for him, and if he ever makes you cry, I'll punish him."

I grimace.

It feels like I'm a bloody toddler. Gross.

Eden hugs my grandmother, smiling. "Thank you, Gran Gran."

My stepmother eyes me from the corner, her gaze full of malice. She's a constant enemy, always doing her best to pitch the board against me. I have a feeling she’s plotting something new.

I look around, my chest tightening when I recall that my mother couldn't be at my own wedding because of her poor health. If only she can get an organ donor soon enough.

“Congratulations, bro," Reegan, my youngest stepbrother, says, giving me a side hug.

I glance at Eden, who is hugging her mum in the corner. They seem to be having a heartfelt conversation.

Someone slaps me on my back, and I turn to see my elder sister in a wheelchair. She's been crippled since the brutal attack that killed our father.

“No more recklessness, kiddo," she says.

“I'm not a kid, Juliet. Stop it."

“Nope. I can't wait to see Eden put you in your place," she singsongs, and I clench my jaw.

I need a fucking drink.

When we arrive at the house, Eden rips her veil off and storms in. She's been here before, she definitely knows her way through the house.

She suddenly halts along the hallway. Then she turns to face me, jabbing a finger at my chest.

“Let this be known to you, Wolfie. While we are in this house, you must stay as far away from me as you can. Do you understand?" She hisses.

I snort, amused.

She's quite the entertainer, isn't she?

I move towards her one step at a time while she backs away slowly.

“Why? Do you actually think I married you for fun, Mrs. Wolfe? Surely, you don't plan on denying me my needs, do you?"

Her face turns beetroot red instantly.

“Y-your needs? Ha! I'd rather die! You can sleep around for all I care. See if I give a damn," she spits.

A smirk curls my lips as I close the distance between us, grabbing her by the wrists and pinning her against the wall.

“No can do. I'm a changed man now. The only pussy I want is my wife's," I drawl. She practically sputters, invisible steam oozing from her ears.

“Get your filthy hands off me," she snarls.

I lean in, my lips grazing her earlobe.

“Why? Afraid that I'm going to find out how much your body still yearns for mine?" I drawl, and she shivers, pressing her thighs together as I squeeze her hip lightly.

“Over my dead body!"

Still so feisty.

“You didn't say that when you were begging for my cock back then, squirrel," I say, and angry tears well up in her eyes.

“You manipulated me! I was nothing but a cheap whore for your entertainment. Good luck with trying to get me in your bed, Wolfie," she hisses.

“Fine, then. I can just go back and make sure your father drowns in his debts. I'm sure you'll get the message then," I say, releasing her.

Her eyes widen. Panic flares across her face. I should feel satisfaction, but a twist of guilt knots my stomach. This isn't the game I want to play. Not with her.

She stumbles forward, gripping my sleeve.

“S-stop, wait!"

The sight of the tears in hers makes my stomach churn, nausea rolling through me.

She reminds me of her. That bitch.

They look so alike it is uncanny.

“W-why do you hate me so much, Hayden? Isn't it enough that you made a mess out of me? Why won't you let me go?" Her voice shakes, laced with frustration.

Because I am twisted, I want to yell at her.

I'm haunted. And now, here she is, my bride, carrying the weight of my obsession and my past trauma. Still, I can't stop wanting her.

Her face, her eyes, and her lips remind me of the wench who stole my innocence.

I was only eight.

Fuck!

Slowly, I cup her cheek, brushing a stray strand of her chestnut brown hair away from her face.

“Don't you remember what you said the night I took your virginity?" I whisper, and her breath catches in her throat.

“Our fate is written in the stars. You and I."

She shakes her head, a pained look on her face. "No, that was—"

“Nothing else matters, you know? We are stuck together for as long as possible," I say, and fear flashes in her eyes as she searches mine.

“What do you mean?" she croaks.

It means," I murmur, leaning closer, letting my nose brush against hers, "we can't get a divorce, squirrel."

“What?!"

“Grandma wants to make sure she's handing her wealth to a responsible person. Therefore, my wife and I must live happily ever after," I tell her.

A slow smile spreads over Eden’s perfect lips.

“Well, good luck on your quest, Wolfie. I am honestly curious how a murderer can somehow become a responsible person."

My blood runs cold in my veins.

“What the fuck do you mean?"