MEAN WIFEY

"Morning!" I greet my phony husband on our first morning in this so-called marriage sham. The words feel strange on my tongue—a mix of irony and genuine warmth. Who knew pretending could be so complicated yet so sweet?


Contrary to what I surmised, the night in his arms was beautiful. I didn't even turn. I didn't wander away from his candle. I slept like a baby. I hope he did the same too. His embrace was unexpectedly comforting—a fortress that shielded me from my worries and the endless loop of thoughts that usually keep me awake.

"Morning, wifey! How was your night?" He queries me as he turns to face me, his voice tinged with an almost teasing affection. His eyes are bright and alert, and his face is as flawless as ever. Not a hair out of place, not a sign of sleep etched into his features. In short, not like me, who is saddled by eyebags and still battling to scrape the eye logs. I can't help but marvel at his effortless perfection. How does he manage to look so fresh? I probably resemble a raccoon with my dark circles and tousled hair.

"I have not slept like that for days," I grumble with all sincerity, my voice still heavy with sleep. It's true. My mind has been a relentless battleground lately, but last night was different. Last night, in his arms, I found an unexpected peace.


"Worry no more then, because the bad days are over." Oh, they are? How can we still have those gross souls roaming around in our shadows? I fix my eyes on him as he adds, 'Because I will make sure you will have the best nights from now until forever," he says, his tone earnest and reassuring. His words are like a balm to my weary soul, and for a moment, I let myself believe him.

Forever, huh?


His smile is disarming, a promise of better days ahead. And as I look into his eyes, I wonder if perhaps this sham of a marriage might hold more truth than we initially thought. Maybe, just maybe, this charade has the potential to transform into something real, something profound. For now, I decide to savor this moment of calm, tucked safely in the warmth of his gaze.

Forever? I don't remember us incorporating our future into this sham of a marriage. Or did we?

"The night would have been phenomenal if only you weren't a sweet, mean wife, you know!" Damian speaks again, as I am still battling to rationalize his words. His tone is playful, but there is a hint of something deeper in his eyes and tone that cannot go unnoticed. And I have always had it. This guy cuts deep into his words. Even his plays are deep. You have to be on high alert when he says something and think carefully before responding; otherwise, you will fall right into his trap.

My face drops. "Wait, I am mean?" I ask, genuinely perplexed. Have I really been mean?

"Aren't you? You made the fucking rules, didn't you?" He says it with a tinge of letdown, his playful demeanor shifting slightly.

That made me smile. Ah, I see! It is about that? "And I remember you did not even try to contend. So, I don't understand why you are grumbling, hubby!" I say, raising an eyebrow at him. If he had a problem with the rules, he should have said something. I waited for that chance, you know. But no! He had to play a respectful jerk! Serves him right!

"So, that was what you wanted, huh? I gotcha!" He retorts, his voice tinged with mock realization. His expression shifts to one of exaggerated enlightenment, like he has suddenly cracked some grand mystery or is already planning a brainstorming plan. Knowing him, the latter is probably the issue, and the sense of that is making my heart throb with excitement and anticipation.

"I..." I try to defend myself, but the jerk doesn't let me. He is clearly enjoying this way too much.

"Don't worry, baby. I will do more than just contend," he says, a smug smile creeping across his face. There is a mischievous glint in his eyes, and I don't think I like this look one bit. It feels like he is up to something, and I have a feeling I am in for a big one.

Wait, did I say I don't like this mischeaf he is portraying? Freaking, no! Rephrase that! I am thrilled! A fix of his wild sex and intense affection in this drama will make this so interesting and beautiful. I can only imagine what awaits us.

"What? What do you mean?" I ask, trying to decipher the mischievous glint in his eyes. He just winks in response.

"You'll find out," he says with a teasing smile.

Gosh! Did I stir up some kind of trouble? Sweet trouble, though. "I want to know what you mean by that," I mumble, a bit unnerved.

I can already sense danger in the way he's ogling me. Didn't he say he could handle the urge? What changed overnight? I thought he was so full of himself.

"Are you sure you want to know?" he queries, pressing his hard chest against mine and peering down into my eyes.

Tension thickens in the air. My hands are flat on the mattress on either side of me, trying to avoid touching his skin. But, oh God! My hands may be safe, but what about the rest of my body? It's too early for this kind of temptation, so dear devil, don't drown me in your depravities.

"Tell me!" I stammer, my voice barely a whisper. The loud echoes of his heartbeat seem to make mine stop, and I let him breathe for both of us, allowing his heart to function for both of us too.

"I will wait until you ask for it, baby. You, wifey, will be the one to beg for this," he murmurs, his voice low and seductive.

No, fucking way can he do this to me!