If I couldn’t even look at the underwear without total embarrassment, how was I going to ever wear it?
“You are his prize,” my stepmother reminded me, standing again to help me step out of the wedding dress. “There’s a reason they call us trophy wives, after all.”
I squared my shoulders, looking down at the lingerie in my hands. I could do this. It was going to be fine.
* * *
Stefan was waiting outsidein the hallway for me. He didn’t say anything, but the way his eyes followed the curves of my body indicated that he liked the black dress on me. I could only hope that he liked what was underneath just as much.
I gripped the lingerie bag tightly and took the arm he offered me. My pulse jumped as he led me away from Michelle and back into the ballroom, where our guests were waiting with sparklers and confetti.
“Ready?” Stefan asked.
I wasn’t sure, but I nodded anyway.
Together, we ran through the line of people as they cheered and shouted their congratulations. By the time we got into the private elevator that would take us up to the bridal suite, we were both covered in confetti.
“What a day,” I said.
He only nodded.
I could feel tension between us, stretched tight. As scared as I was, I was eager to see him without his clothes on.
Apparently, I wouldn’t have to wait long.
The moment the elevator door opened into our private suite, Stefan shrugged off his tux jacket and began unbuttoning his cuffs and shirt. My knees went weak, and I sank onto the bed.
I was mesmerized. Part of me just wanted to stay and watch the show, but I remembered the lingerie and Michelle’s instructions.
“I’ll just be a moment,” I told him as I hurried into the bathroom.
Quickly, I undressed and maneuvered myself into the complicated outfit. Tugging out a mess of bobby pins and giving my hair a shake, I checked my appearance in the mirror.
The lingerie was…something.
It left nothing to the imagination, my pebbled nipples visible through the lace, every curve of my body accentuated by tight white straps. I was wrapped up like a present for Stefan to open.
My heartbeat sped up. This might be fun. It might be more than fun.
Feeling a little emboldened, I blew myself a kiss in the mirror.
Then I headed into the bedroom to seduce my husband.
He was already in bed, his bare chest and tight abs well-muscled and golden. A sheet tangled around his waist, obscuring the extent of his nudity.
He was also asleep.
Apparently he hadn’t been anxious in the elevator. He was just tired.
I dropped down on the edge of the bed, hoping the movement might wake him. It didn’t.
“Stefan?” I reached over and touched his shoulder, then slid my hand down to squeeze his bicep. “Stefan?” He was out cold.
All that build up, and for nothing. Didn’t he want me?
Apparently not enough to stay awake. Then again, it wouldn’t have been as exciting for him as for me. After all, he’d probably been with tons of women. And besides, it wasn’t like we were actually in love.
I went back to the bathroom and changed into my usual pajamas, a cotton camisole and shorts. Then I crawled into the bed. It was large enough that I would’ve had to roll over several times just to get near him. I left a wide swath of space between us and curled into a ball on my side.
This was a marriage of convenience. There was no reason to be upset.
But I couldn’t stop thinking I’d just made the worst mistake of my life.
