51. Wren
51
WREN
My eyes widen at his words. I’ve heard Stefan use lines like that before but for some reason, right now, it doesn’t feel like a line. He means it. He really WANTS to fuck me and not in the wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am kind of way. He wants to sleep with me because I’m his whole world but it doesn’t change the fact that in a few short days, I’m moving back to New York.
“You can’t say stuff like that to me,” I tell him.
“I can say whatever I want to my wife.”
“I’m not your wife, Stefan.”
He reaches out, grabs my hand, and points to my new bling. “These rings and the piece of paper on the table over there say otherwise.”
“Where the fuck did you get a wedding set from anyway?”
“When you have money and you’re me, you can get what you want when you want.”
“Brag much?”
“It’s the truth, baby. Now, go get dressed.”
“Where are my clothes?”
Both of us look around the hotel room and there are clothes spread from one end of the place to the other. I spy my thong but when I bend down and pick it up, I see it’s shredded. “What did you do to my undies?” He nonchalantly shrugs at me. “Stefan, I can’t leave this room with no panties on.”
“You threatened to last night,” he throws back at me.
“Yes, threatened but in fact, I wore a thong.” I wave my shredded panties in front of his face. “I didn’t go to dinner last night with no panties on and in the light of the day, the same rules apply.”
Stefan walks over to the door and picks up the bag he dropped when he walked back in. “Here,” he says, shoving the bag at me. Peeking inside I see underwear and a royal blue maxi dress. “You bought me clothes?”
“Well, I knew you wouldn’t want to wear your wedding dress out of here so I stopped at a store and grabbed you another dress.”
“Thank you,” I honestly tell him.
He steps over to me and cups my cheek. “I’d do anything for you, Wren.”
We silently stare at one another, the air around us thickens but before I do anything stupid like fuck him, I turn on my heel and walk into the bathroom.
Closing the door behind me, I lean against it and sigh. Sex is not what I need right now. I need my head clear so I can fix this. I have no clue how I got here or why I married him but, deep down, I know Stefan cares. This is the side of him that kept me going. The caring and considerate Stefan. This is the Stefan I fell in love with but marriage? What the hell?
“What’s this I hear about Doucheman getting married last night?” Jaxson bellows into the phone as I finish another coffee after my shower. Stefan’s in the shower now, and I was just about to log into my emails to see if this has gotten out but Jaxson beat me to it, confirming that, yes, the news of our marriage is out.
My eyes glance to the en suite door but it’s closed, sequestering Stefan away from this conversation and my firing. “It’s true, he got married last night,” I mumble, more to myself than him.
“It's all over the fucking news, Wren,” he huffs. “Margaret is having a field day with this.”
“Shit,” I hiss. “Stefan and I will take care of it.”
“Do you know who this bimbo he married is?”
“I, umm, ahh…” Shit, this next part is going to be hard to tell him. There’s no use in hiding it, so I bite the bullet and just spit it out. At least it’s over the phone and not face-to-face. “Yes, I know her and, as I said, I’m dealing with it.” I’m not but he doesn’t need to know that and, thankfully, he’s several states away in New York.
“How are you dealing with this, Wren? ’Cause from where I’m sitting, it’s every fucking where.”
“I’m dealing with it,” I repeat. “I’ve got a plan.” There’s got to be a courthouse around here to get this annulled. I mean, shit like this happens all the time in Vegas. We can get it annulled and all will be fine again.
There, game plan sorted.
Stefan and I will go to the courthouse and get an annulment. With it being the weekend, we’ll have to wait till Monday but we can be there as soon as they open and by lunchtime, it’ll be like the marriage never happened.
Crisis averted.
We can chalk it up to a drunken prank.
While I was in my head planning this, Jaxson was talking but I have no clue what he said. Now, a silence has fallen between us. The only sound is his heavy breathing and me chewing on my bottom lip.
“Wren, why do I get the feeling you know more than you're letting on right now?” Fucking Jaxson and his perceptiveness. I’m unsure as to what to say next but when he draws my name out with six extra e’s, I know I have no other option but to tell him the truth.
Deciding to just spit it out, I blurt out seven words I never thought I would utter. Ever. “Last night, Stefan and I got married.”
“I’m sorry, did you just say you and Stefan got married?”
Nodding my head, I purse my lips. “Mmmhmpf, yep, that’s what I said.” Silently I add, I’m Mrs. Stefan D?uchmen.
“For fuck’s sake, Wren. I'm coming over and?—”
“That might be a problem,” I interrupt.
“Why?” he bellows, and I have to pull the phone away from my ear and the shrillness of his tone.
“Because he and I are still at our hotel in Vegas.”
Even through the phone I can see the disappointment on his face. He trusted me with this gig. He put his faith in me that I could rework Stefan’s image and not fall for his charms. And I didn’t, I fell for Stefan, the man, not his bunny-taming charms. I fell for the person he’s kept hidden from the media and everyone else, and this reaction is why I didn’t want to go public with us. “I thought I could trust you with this, Wren.”
“You can,” I defend. “Stefan is?—”
This time it’s him who cuts me off. “Do not leave that hotel room, Wren. You and him are to stay in that room. I’ll be there later tonight and then we can come up with a game plan.”
“I already have a plan.”
“Clearly you can’t be trusted when it comes to Doucheman. Just stay fucking put, Wren.”
“Okay,” I dejectedly reply then I quietly add, “I’m sorry, Jaxson.”
“Yeah, me too.” That comment stings but at the same time, I deserve it. I vowed I would not do this but here I am. Only this time, I’m ten times deeper in the shit. “Don't leave that hotel room,” he reiterates, and without another word, he hangs up.
Swallowing deeply, I hold the phone to my ear, shaking my head. My eyes well with tears and in frustration, I throw the device across the room. I just fucked my career, again, but this time, there’ll be no coming back from it.
Plopping down to the sofa, I drop my head back and stare at the ceiling. The sound of the en suite door opening garners my attention and when I look up, Stefan is standing in the doorway. My eyes roam over his body, he’s only in a towel and it showcases his muscular torso and that V muscle that causes women to go gaga … and the reason why Jaxson got him the underwear endorsement with Monty’s. Come to think of it, I’m pretty sure Peyton signed every hockey player represented by LTS to her latest campaign. And what a campaign it will be. All those hockey players in nothing but their underwear, yes pucking please.
Snapping my attention away from him before I do something stupid, like fuck him, again, I pick up the remote and flick the television on. Of course, it’s Margaret from WtB focusing on Stefan and what happened last night. She’s trying to figure out who his mystery bride is. At least I’m hidden , I think to myself. For the first time since my call with Jaxson, I smile because it’s a win. A little win but still a win.
She always seems to be there when shit goes down. She’s like a magnet for gossip. Anytime someone does something headline worthy, she’s there, and it’s out there for everyone to know … Thankfully, she missed my headline news the first time round and once again, I want to keep my private life just that—private.
“You okay?” Stefan asks, coming to stand before me. Lifting my head, my eyes slowly roam up his body to his face. A face that has a knowing smirk on it.
“No, I’m not okay, Stefan. My career and reputation are about to be ruined because we got married.”
“It’ll be fine,” he nonchalantly says with a shrug.
“For you it will be. You’re the star hockey player. But me? I’m the consultant who fucked up for the second time…”
“Second time?”
“Simon Simon,” I huff in frustration. Rearing my hand back, I throw the remote in my hand to the floor. “What matters right now is that you’ll be fine and I’m fucked and I?—”
“You’re not fucked,” he interrupts.
He drops down to his knees and in doing so, the towel separates and I’m given an up close and unobstructed view of the most beautiful dick in the world. If we stay married, I could have access to the most beautiful dick in the world whenever I want, but him having a beautiful dick is no reason to stay married. What we did was reckless and stupid. Clearly, I was dick drunk last night as well as drunk-drunk. That can be the only reason as to why I married him, but when I think back to last night, I vaguely remember his words after the video debacle.
…“If you were my wife, I would never allow something like that”—he points to my phone—“to happen.”
“Well, I’m not your wife, so it’s moot.” I chuckle. “Moot is such a fun word to say. Moot. Mooooot. Discombobulated is also a fun word to say.”
“You’re fun, Wren, and one day, I’m gonna marry you.”
“You say that to all the girls,” I tease.
He shakes his head. “Nope, I’ve never wanted the whole marriage thing before, but you make me a betterer person, and I’d happily marry you. Anytime. Anywhere.”
“We should do it,” I suggest with a smile.
“Do what?”
“Get married.”
“We should,” he agrees, smiling brightly. “And then you can stay and I can be betterer all the time. So what do you say, wanna get hitched?”
Clearly, I said yes because, well, we’re currently married.
The memory of our wedding and when we got back here has my pussy quivering for another taste of my husband’s dick, but I need to think right now. And I need to think with my head and not my vagina. But when I look up and see Stefan staring intently at me, I don’t know if I’ll be able to control myself. “I’m so fucked,” I mutter.