Page 92 of Queen’s Gambit

“What did I say about calling me Eddie?”

Patrica sighed. “Not to, but I like it and….”

“I don’t care if the Pope told you to use it. If you do it one more time, then we’ll be divorced the same night we got married. Shortest wedding in history.”

“Fine, you’re so touchy. Just because this is a business arrangement doesn’t mean you have to treat me like I’m the enemy,” Patricia said, crossing her arms.

Remembering what Paul said, I thought about Ana and everything she was facing. We’d formulated a plan to get out of this hell, and I needed to play my part.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. But don’t expect me to be happy. This is not what I wanted. Don’t fool yourself into thinking it will ever be more than a marriage of convenience. You didn’t want to marry a fifty-year-old man, and I get the added assets from your father’s business. Understand?”

Patricia looked around and then nodded.

“Yeah, I get it. The party will keep going for hours. Do you want to stay or get out of here?”

I was tempted to stay, but I would probably end up passed out in a corner surrounded by liquor bottles.

“Let’s get out of here,” I said, and she smiled.

This was a bad fucking idea, and yet, the stock value in all of my companies had gone up before the ink dried on the marriage certificate. Grabbing a knife off a nearby table, I clinked the glass Paul had given me, and the music stopped, as did everyone else.

“Patricia and I just wanted to thank all of you for coming today. You’ve made our wedding very special. We are retiring for the night, but party on for as long as you like.”

Cheers went up around the room. I held the glass in the air before chugging it back and handing it to Paul, who just shook his head.

Patricia linked her arm with mine as we left the ballroom. We walked down the hall and took the elevator up to the penthouse suite. With each step my feet felt heavier and it had nothing to do with the alcohol. My body was physically revolting against going into that room.

“Are you going to carry me over the threshold?”

Had she lost her mind?

“No.”

Pushing open the door, I was thankful for the silence.

All day had been a constant buzz of activity. It started with pictures, then greeting the endless line of guests, and I couldn’t forget the neverending church service. I had to keep looking at Marcus and Paul to remind me not to pull a runaway groom. The final nail was the reception, where I had to fake being the happiest man in the world for people I didn’t know. My head was aching, and my heart hurt worse than any migraine.

Grabbing a bottle of water from the kitchen, I headed for the bedroom with Patricia right on my heels.

“Can you help me with the zipper,” she asked, her voice seductive like that was going to make me want her.

I nodded, and she turned around. I unclipped the top hook and pulled the zipper down before grabbing my suitcase and heading for the door.

“Where are you going?”

Patrica clutched the white dress to her chest as she stared at me. I half expected her to let it fall, to try and lure me into staying. That wasn’t happening. Nothing she did would ever make me want her.

“I’m sleeping in the other room. What does it look like I’m doing?”

“I thought…well, you know. I thought we’d have sex. That’s normal after a wedding.”

I shook my head at her.

“There is nothing about this situation that’s normal, Patricia. No, I’m not going to consummate the marriage with you. Not now, not ever.”

“But…that’s not fair. I married you. You owe me this.”

I laughed, but not because I thought what she said was funny. It was quite the opposite. The alcohol and anger swirling inside of me required an outlet. I needed to get away from her before she said something stupid, and we got into it on day one of this farce.