4

My heart completely stops.

I don't think, just react on pure adrenaline. I plant both hands flat against his bare chest and shove him backward with everything I have.

Steve stumbles back a half-step, his hand dropping from my neck.

The intense focus in his eyes snaps, replaced instantly by a flash of genuine shock.

"What the hell are we doing here?" I snap, stepping back, wrapping my arms around myself as if the white lace lingerie offers actual protection.

He recovers his balance, jaw tightening. "I told your assistant to prepare the suite. We haven't consummated our marriage, Serena."

"And we aren't going to," I shoot back. "You can't ignore my existence for six months, sleep on the opposite end of the apartment, and then barge in here at midnight expecting me to spread my legs just because you asked."

Steve stares. I can see his cold, analytical brain processing the sudden outburst.

He looks at my face, down at the velvet choker, then back up.

I hold my breath, wondering if he'll push the issue.

I think he's going to step forward and examine the cheap jewelry that has no business on a senator's wife.

Instead, he pulls his silk robe tighter, tying the belt.

"Fine," he says, his voice flat.

He doesn't argue or try to touch me again. He just turns on his heel and walks out, pulling the doors shut with a click.

I stand frozen for a full minute, listening for his footsteps to fade. When I'm sure he's gone, my knees buckle. I sink onto the mattress, dragging oxygen into my burning lungs.

I reach up, unclip the velvet choker, and throw it into the trash can.

I strip off the ridiculous lingerie, pull on an oversized t-shirt, and crawl under the cold silk sheets. I stare at the ceiling for hours.

Why now? We have a deal. What the hell changed in his head to make him suddenly want to drag me into his bed?

I don't get an answer, and I barely sleep.

Twenty-four hours later, the tension between us is still thick enough to choke on.

We sit side-by-side in the formal dining room of the Carter estate in Connecticut, pretending to be a unified front.

Steve didn't say a word in the car. He just stared out the window with his scotch while I scrolled mindlessly on my phone.

Now, we're enduring Sunday dinner...which really just means enduring his mother.

Eleanor Carter sits at the head of the mahogany table, cutting her roast duck with precision. She didn't want Steve to marry me, and makes sure I know it every time she opens her mouth.

"I see you're wearing the Cartier bracelet," Eleanor notes, not looking up. "Though pairing it with that off-the-rack dress is a choice. You really should let my stylist help you, Serena. New money has such a hard time understanding subtlety."

I plaster on my best vacant socialite smile. "I'll keep that in mind, Eleanor. Thank you."

Steve doesn't defend me. He just takes a sip of wine, completely checked out. I grip my napkin under the table, counting down the minutes until we can leave.

Then, my phone buzzes in my clutch. I glance at the screen. Dax.

My stomach drops. Dax never calls the Serena phone unless it's a five-alarm emergency.

"Excuse me," I say, standing up before Eleanor can make another comment. "I need to take this."

I push through the swinging doors into the empty kitchen before pressing the phone to my ear.

"I told you I'm off tonight," I hiss.

"I know," Dax's stressed voice comes through the speaker. "But you need to get down here, Blue. Now."

"I can't. I'm at a family dinner in Connecticut. I'm an hour away."

"I don't care if you're on the moon," Dax shoots back. "Room Four is booked. It's him again. The suit from last night."

My blood runs ice cold. "Steve?"

"I don't know his real name, but he dropped ten grand tonight," Dax says frantically. "He wants you. Just you. I told him you weren't on the schedule, and he doesn't care."

Panic seizes my chest.

"Tell him no, Dax," I frown. "Tell him I quit. Tell him I'm sick."

"I'm not turning down ten thousand dollars, Blue! Get your ass in a cab and get here, or don't bother coming back on Monday."

The line goes dead.

I have to get out of this house, get Steve to drive us to the city, drop us at the penthouse, then somehow sneak out to the club before Dax fires me.

A loud crack of thunder rattles the kitchen windows, making me jump. I look up. Heavy rain is suddenly pouring.

The storm the news predicted all week just made landfall.

I shove my phone back into my clutch and hurry back to the dining room to trigger our exit strategy.

"Steve," I say, stepping back to my chair. "I have a terrible headache. Do you mind if we head back to the city?"

Steve looks at me, then glances at the rain pounding the windows. A frown pulls at his mouth. He checks his watch.

He's probably calculating how long it'll take to drop me off and get to the Neon Orchid.

"Of course," he says smoothly, standing up. "We should get on the road."

"Absolutely not," Arthur Carter's booming voice cuts through the room. Steve's father wipes his mouth, gesturing to the windows. "The coastal highway is already flooding. Visibility is zero. You aren't driving an hour in this."

"We'll be fine, Dad," Steve says, his tone tight. I can see the urgency in his shoulders. He needs to leave just as badly as I do.

"I said no," Arthur insists. "It's a PR nightmare if you wrap your car around a tree on a Sunday night. The guest wing is made up. You're staying the night."

"Arthur is right," Eleanor chimes in, sipping her water. "Don't be ridiculous. Maria already brought your overnight bags inside just in case."

I freeze. I look at Steve. He looks at me.

The trap just slammed shut.

We're staying. I'm stuck in Connecticut, meaning Blue is going to no-show the VIP room. But that isn't even the worst part.

I slowly turn my head, looking down the long hallway toward the east wing.

His parents don't know about our arrangement or the separate bedrooms in the penthouse. In this house, we're a happily married couple.

Which means, for the first time since our wedding night, I have to share a bed with my husband.