2

I freeze.

I stare down at the icy eyes of husband in devastation, my lungs paralyzed, waiting for the moment of recognition.

He just takes a slow sip of his scotch.

He looks straight through me, or rather, straight at the sapphire wig, and the sheer silk robe.

To him, I am not Serena. I don't smell like Baccarat Rouge.

I don't have the heavy, two-carat diamond on my finger.

I am just Blue.

"I didn't drop five thousand dollars to watch you blend into the doorframe," Steve says, his voice carrying that same low abrasive authority he uses in boardrooms. "Sit down."

The shock shatters, instantly replaced by a hot, ugly spike of pure rage.

My pulse hammers against my throat. We might be a sham. We might sleep in separate wings and communicate through assistants, but I am still his wife.

The audacity of him sitting in a strip club, ordering a woman around while I am supposedly locked away in his sterile marble penthouse makes my blood boil.

I take a sharp breath, ready to spit venom, ready to blow my own cover.

But before I can open my mouth, he sets the crystal glass on the side table.

"I need a service," he states flatly, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees. "But not the one you usually provide. I need you to teach me how to please my wife."

My brain short-circuits. I freeze, my anger switches into amusement as i'm taken aback.

"I'm sorry, what?!" I force the words out in a lower register, desperate to mask my real voice.

Steve doesn't blink. He looks at me with the cold detachment of a man analyzing a spreadsheet. "You heard me. Teach me how to fuck my wife."

The room suddenly feels smaller. A wild, hysterical laugh threatens to tear its way out of my throat. This is insane. He is paying a stripper five thousand dollars to teach him how to sleep with the woman standing directly in front of him.

"I... I don't do this," I stammer, panic finally overriding my paralysis. I turn on my clear heels, lunging for the heavy velvet door. "I'll have Dax refund your money-"

I don't even make it to the handle.

Steve moves with terrifying, predatory speed. A large, warm hand clamps shut around my wrist.

With one effortless pull, he spins me around and slams me backward. My spine hits the wall with a soft thud.

He doesn't let go. Instead, he steps into my space, caging me in.

He is so close I can feel the heat radiating off his body.

"I heard you were the best," Steve murmurs, his face inches from mine. His eyes drop to my lips, then back up to my heavily lined eyes. "I need to know how to drive a woman out of her mind. And you are going to tell me."

I am trembling, and I hate myself for it. We haven't touched since he shoved that ring onto my finger for the paparazzi. We have never been this close.

My heart is frantically beating against my ribs, and the proximity of him is sending a dangerous thrill straight to my core.

"Why?" I gasp out, my fake persona slipping in my desperation. "Why now? If you haven't... touched her... why do you suddenly care?"

"I don't pay you to interrogate me," he says softly, a dark warning lacing his tone. "Do your job."

Survival instinct kicks in. If I fight him, he will look closer. If I run, he will chase. The only way out of this room is through it.

I swallow hard, forcing my body to relax against the wall. I let my heavy eyelids droop, slipping flawlessly into the seductive, untouchable skin of 'Blue'.

"Fine," I whisper.

I boldly slide my free hand up the lapel of his immaculate charcoal suit, my acrylic nails lightly scratching the expensive wool.

I feel his chest expand with a sharp intake of breath.

"Every woman is different," I murmur, tilting my chin up so my lips are agonizingly close to his jaw. "But if you want to ruin her for anyone else... you don't start between her legs. You start in her head."

Steve is entirely still, his eyes locked onto my mouth.

"You don't just touch her," I continue, tracing the line of his collarbone through his shirt.

I am giving him the blueprint to my own destruction. "You take your time, you make her anticipate it. You kiss the hollow of her throat until she begs. You grip her waist...hard enough to leave a mark, to let her know she belongs to you in that exact second."

His pupils dilate, swallowing the ice-blue of his irises until they are almost completely black.

I can feel the hard, unmistakable line of his arousal pressing against the sheer silk of my robe. He wants this. He wants her. He wants me.

I drag my nail down the center of his chest, stopping just above his belt. "And when she's finally shaking, when she can't form a coherent sentence... that's when you take what's yours."

His breath hitches, fanning warmly across my cheek.

At first, I think he is going to lean in and kiss me. I think he is going to break his own rule and ruin the illusion.

Instead, he abruptly lets go of my wrist.

He steps back, the sudden loss of his body heat leaving me cold and breathless.

Without a word to me, Steve reaches into his inner pocket and pulls out his phone.

He dials a number, his eyes never leaving mine.

"Yes, it's me," Steve says smoothly into the receiver, his voice echoing in the dim red light. "Call Serena Carter. Tell her to cancel whatever plans she has tomorrow and prepare the master suite."

He holds my gaze, "we will consummate our marriage tonight."