“Miss Blast,” Mike says, trying valiantly to keep his eyes from her legs and failing. “We’ve met before, when you were a part of the Miss Nevada competition. You did well.”
“Thank you.”
I look over at her, and Monica is smiling, but the vision strikes me, because she’s smiling but her eyes are filled with pain.
Lucy chimes in. “I’m very sorry for everything you’ve been going through, Miss Blast. I’m sure it’s been hard for you.”
Monica’s eyes fall to the floor again. “Thank you,” she says again. Like a reflex. Automatically.
I shouldn’t care. I shouldn’t notice that she seems to have shut down and be running autopilot. I shouldn’t notice that she’s shivering under my hands. I shouldn’t suddenly be feeling regret for putting her on display. This is what I wanted. To prove to her that I’m serious about taking revenge.
And it’s true, there is a tiny bit of me that feels smug about the blush on her cheeks and her state of undress. But her trembling is getting to me. “Sorry Mike,” I say. “What was your question?”
He asks something about the economy and local jobs, and I answer. The others ask their questions too. I don’t even remember what they say or what I say because I’m so focused on Monica. She’s a shell of herself. Even only knowing her again for the last day I know that. And I did that.
Fuck.
This is not how I imagined that this would go. I had it all planned in my head, how I would revel in her blush and her awkwardness. Right now all I want to do is make her come back. I struggle through the questions, and they seem satisfied, even though I can see the desperation in their eyes wanting to ask questions about Monica.
But they don’t. All they do is stare. And finally, I can get them out. I get a ping from Jack asking about the lawyer and I can finally send them away. But Monica doesn’t move. Not when the lawyer comes, not when he walks us through the process of applying for a marriage license. All she does the sign the papers, completely blank.
And then the lawyer is gone and she’s still gone too. Shit. What the fuck did I step into? It seemed like such a simple thing, a little embarrassment to start my revenge. But I didn’t really think. How she’s been put on display her whole life. I don’t even think I knew about her doing pageants. That was later, after I knew her.
I sit down next to her, and reach out to touch her. She pulls away. “Monica.” There’s a moment when I can see the tears in her eyes, and it feels like a knife straight into my heart.
I shouldn’t care about this. I shouldn’t. I should be glad for her tears and that she’s getting a taste of her own medicine. But it doesn’t feel that way. And after seeing her pure and free and open underneath me, I know in my gut that this isn’t who I am. I will make her pay me. There’s no question of a debt between us. But I’m wrong to make her pay it to me in front of others.
She’ll pay it to me and no one else. I’ll extract it from her in borrowed pleasure and begging. I will make her mine.
“It’s fine,” she says. “We’re done, right?”
“Yeah,” I say. “We’re done.” I’m not going to make her talk to me right now. Not if she doesn’t want that. I hand her a tablet. “Order yourself some clothes. Everything should be fine on there.”
“Okay.”
She retreats into the guest room faster than I can even turn to follow her and closes the door. Only time will tell how monumentally I just fucked up.
8
Monica
For a moment, I sit on the bed in the guest room and just breathe. That was…awful. But not the worst it could have been. There are worse things than sitting by a man’s side in a t-shirt. He has the right to do worse to me. In fact, I expect more. I agreed to it.
Daniel was right on one count: the lawyer didn’t give me or my clothes a second glance. Though clothes would be generous. I’m wearing nothing but Daniel’s t-shirt and the reporters got a good look at me.
I guess my passport and other things had been delivered while I was getting dressed, because they were all there when I just signed the papers. It all seemed very simple. As easy as signing nothing.
And now it’s done. Normally it would take several weeks to receive a marriage license. But given who Daniel is, I shouldn’t be surprised that the lawyer told us it would be ready either tomorrow or the next day. So fast.
Is this something I really want to do? After that? I know, deep down, that if I refused to marry him, Daniel wouldn’t make me. But it’s not something that I should be doing just because I’m afraid of losing everything. Or because I’m afraid of him exposing me for who I was. He’ll do it again. Tears swim in my eyes, and I blink them away. Come on, Monica. It’s not that bad. It’s worth it, besides, I will lose everything.