TWELVE
Caroline
I kind of wish I’d never agreed to breakfast.
Not that Ten’s not nice, or anything. In fact he’s gone out of his way to make me feel as comfortable as our awkward situation will allow. He ordered a veritable feast for breakfast and even put clothes on when he realized I was having trouble looking in his general, half-naked vicinity.
The reason I wish I’d never agreed to this is simple: I have no fucking clue what to say to this man, who is apparently now my husband. And it seems like I’m not the only one who has this problem, because aside from our phones going off every ten seconds, breakfast has been uncomfortably quiet.
I risk a glance at Ten across the table and fight the urge to roll my eyes when I find him already staring at me. Again. “Dude, you gotta stop.”
Ten chuckles, dropping his eyes to his plate. “Sorry. I’ve never had a wife before. I don’t know how to act.”
My face heats as I take another bite of bacon. “I’m not your wife,” I awkwardly mumble around my food. “Not for long, anyway.”
This only makes his smile widen. “I never thought I’d like being rejected this much.”
Wiping my hands on my napkin, I take a drink of OJ. “Well I never thought Elvis would officiate my wedding, but here we are.”
He leans back in his chair, shaking his head. “You’re pissed we didn’t go with Sammy.”
“Who?”
He snickers. “Nothing.”
My eyes narrow on him as I watch him eat. “How much do you remember?” Seems like it’s more than me.
He stuffs a forkful of pancakes into his mouth before a wicked smirk curves his lips. “More than you probably want me to.”
“Not about that,” I mutter, feeling the blush color my cheeks again. I pick up my fork and play with my scrambled eggs. “Why didn’t you tell me who you were?”
Something flickers across his face before he frowns. “You didn’t know?”
A lot came back to me while I was taking a shower, but the fact that he was a famous rock star wasn’t one of them. “Not until I saw us on the news.” I smile ruefully, hoping that what I’m about to say doesn’t hurt his sense of pride. “I had to Google you when I got into the bathroom.”
He cringes. “I really wish you hadn’t done that. The media doesn’t always portray me in the best light.”
I scoff. “Looks like we have that in common.”
“Sorry about that.” Ten runs a hand over his face. Setting his fork on his plate, he sighs. “If it wasn’t for me, your face wouldn’t be plastered all over the news. No one would give a shit what you do for a living.”
“My family would. Or does, I guess, since I’m sure they know by now.” What do you know? My appetite’s gone. I set my napkin next to my plate, pushing it away. “Thanks for breakfast, but I need to get home and face the music.”
He pushes his chair out when I stand. “I’ll go with you. I should probably meet my in-laws anyway.” His smirk fades when he sees my horrified expression. It softens his face as he says, “Your house is probably swarmed with paparazzi. It’ll be easier to fend them off with me and a few of my security guys.”
Grabbing my purse, I frown. “You really think they’ll be camped outside my house?”
“I bet they’re camped downstairs too.” He grabs his jacket off the back of his chair. “Ready, Caroline?”
The tiniest smile lifts my cheeks. “You looked at the paper I left on the nightstand.”
“How else was I going to learn my wife’s name?” he asks wryly.
***
Ten was right. It’s a circus outside when we try to leave the hotel. He gives me his sunglasses to wear while giving me a pep talk about how to deal with paparazzi, which is basically to just keep your head down and ignore them, no matter what ugly things they shout at you.
And they are ugly, indeed.
Apparently Roger’s telling anyone who’ll listen that he fired me last night for “inappropriate customer relations” and that Sinful Temptation doesn’t endorse prostitution. Yep, that slimy little weasel is going around telling the press that I was fired for being a hooker.
I freeze when a photographer asks me if it’s true, unable to keep the shock off my face, but Ten slips his hand in mine and leads me to the waiting SUV while his beefy security guys clear a path.
Once we’re inside and away from prying eyes, I break down.
“Hey,” Ten says softly, scooting over to wrap his arm around me as the driver pulls away from the hotel.
I wipe at my tears, trying to calm my hiccupped breathing. “It’s not true. What that guy said?” The security guys up front don’t seem to be listening, but it’s still weird trying to have a private conversation with someone when you’re not alone. I keep my voice low as I tell Ten, “I wasn’t fired for sleeping with the customers. I quit because they wouldn’t stop asking me to. Now the manager’s throwing me under the bus because I might’ve kneed him in the balls when he said he wanted to ‘test the merchandise.’”
I scowl, feeling bile rise up from just saying it.
Ten’s whole body tenses up beside me. “What’s his name?”
“Why?” I ask slowly.
“I need something to put on his tombstone besides ‘nutless dickbag.’”
I smile despite the tears drying on my face, but it doesn’t last. “I’m sorry.” Biting my lip, I shake my head. “Not only did you marry a stripper, but you also married a whore according to those photographers. Your label must be thrilled.”
He looks completely indifferent as he wipes the last tear from my cheek. “Fuck ’em. They don’t know you like I do.”
I laugh. “Yeah? And how much do you know about me, Mr. I-met-you-less-than-twenty-four-hours-ago?”
Brushing my hair behind my shoulder, he leans in, murmuring in my ear, “I know what you look like naked and how tight your pussy squeezes me when you come.”
My eyes flutter shut, my whole body heating at his words.
Despite the gaps in my memory from last night, I do recall the sex being… Well, fucking spectacular.
He leans back, his eyes darting to my parted lips. It looks like he wants to kiss me, but I’m not sure I want him to.
For one, we’re not alone. And two, I don’t even know what this is.
I mean, yes, technically we’re husband and wife, but we’re not going to stay that way. Right?
We’re just a one-night-stand that…doesn’t seem to know its own expiration date.
“I also know that you make me feel hopeful for the first time in a long time. You’re generous. Kind. Thoughtful.” He shrugs. “You’re everything I didn’t know I wanted.”
His simple words make me feel anything but. They warm my chest, making emotion flood me.
I can’t put my finger on what exactly I’m feeling. I just know that I’m not ready for it.
I’m not ready for this easy back and forth between us—this chemistry I can’t deny. It’s bringing back all kinds of memories from the night before.
I clear my throat, suddenly feeling like the bench seat of this giant SUV is too cramped. “I think I know how you got me to marry you.”
Ten grins. “Any idea how I can get you to stay married to me?”
My eyes narrow on him. I can’t tell if he’s joking or not. “What are you saying?” I ask carefully.
He reaches into the pocket of his jacket and pulls out the ring I left on the nightstand. Ten stares down at it for a second before holding it out to me. “I’m saying let’s give this marriage a shot.”
Incredulous laughter bubbles out of me. “Are you still drunk?”
“No,” he says, growing exasperated. He takes my left hand in his and slips it on my ring finger. “I might not remember all the vows I said last night, but I remember how it felt. I’m not ready to lose that. Are you?”
This is crazy. He can’t be serious. “Ten…”
“C’mon, what have you got to lose?”
I’d say my privacy and anonymity, but that ship’s already sailed, hasn’t it? “I can’t be married to you. I don’t even know you,” I mutter quietly.
“So let’s change that. Go on a date with me tonight.”
I cock a brow. “Just a date?”
He glances at the guys up front and then lowers his voice. “If you want to fuck me, I’m not gonna stop you. But I’m not expecting you to.”
I bite my lip, debating. “Okay, fine. I’ll go on a date with you.”
Ten smiles. My stomach flutters at the sight, then immediately plummets when I realize how much I like it.
What have I gotten myself into?