Million Dollar Marriage Page 6

  I look around. All the couples are yin and yang. It’s like they ran our personality tests through a machine and picked out the person we’d be least compatible with.

  “Now, we understand this is a big commitment on your part, so we’ll give you and your partner five minutes to talk things out and decide what you’d like to do. Please note that once your decision is made, it is final, and you will be married here, on the spot, before you board a flight to where the real competition will begin.” He winks at the losers’ wall. “If you drop out now, you’ll go home with fifty thousand dollars, but if you decide to continue on, you’ll earn seventy thousand and the chance to compete for even more! Time starts . . . now!”

  I turn to Penny. She’s hugging herself and won’t look at me. “Hey. I’m in.”

  She doesn’t say anything.

  I wave a hand in front of her face.

  “Are you crazy?” she finally says, staring at me. “I’d never marry you.”

  “Fine. Forget the marriage. This is about the money. And I need the money.”

  She sighs. “But . . . my parents . . .”

  “Fuck your parents. Fuck everyone. Who cares? After we win, we’ll get it annulled. But I need the money, and you do, too, right? Think of all the people you beat out so far to be here, standing on this stage. Let’s fucking do this.”

  She stares at the ground. “We won’t win.”

  “Hell yeah we will, girl. You’ve got the brains, right? I’ve got the brawn. Whatever challenges there are, we can handle them. Trust me. We’ll kick ass.”

  She wipes her hair from her face and stares at the countdown clock, which shows we have less than two minutes to come to a final decision.

  I nudge her. “What are you afraid of?”

  “I . . . I don’t know,” she says, her voice quiet. “That I’ll make a fool of myself on national television?”

  “I won’t let that happen. Anything else?”

  She looks up at me with those big blue eyes, and it gets me. Right there. In the heart, in my cock. I want to pry open those big soft lips with my tongue and have my way with her.

  “That you’ll fall in love with me?” I grin at her.

  Her eyes widen more, and her face reddens. “No. Not that.”

  “Good. Then what’s your answer?”

  She stares at her hand, and at first I don’t get it. But then I do. That’s where the ring is supposed to be. “It’s just that . . . all my life, I’ve dreamed of a romantic wedding. With an actual ring, a white dress, and a church and cake and the man I’m in love with. Not this. This is cheesy and gimmicky and just . . .”

  Just then, the buzzer above us sounds.

  “Time’s up!” Will Wang says, dragging his microphone down the line of contestants. “So, we come to Shveta and Ace. Before you let us know your final decision, please tell us, have you enjoyed your time on Million Dollar Marriage thus far?”

  Ace frowns. Shveta says, “Yes. Up until now.”

  “Ah. All right. So now, what is your final decision? We do, or no way?”

  Shveta leans into the microphone. “I’ve decided . . . no way. I will not be continuing on. Thank you.”

  The crowd starts to murmur. “Ah. And why have you decided to give up the chance of winning a million?”

  “I can’t,” Shveta says as Ace scowls at her. “In my culture, we are very strict about marriage.”

  “Okay, okay.” He thrusts the microphone at Ace. “And how does it feel for you?”

  “It fucking sucks. But I didn’t want to marry this bitch anyway.”

  Will shifts uncomfortably because Ace looks like he’s about to punch the nearest thing, which could be his head. “Don’t worry, sir, there’s a chance for you to get back in the running later on. If fewer than nine couples decide to be married for the next challenge, we’ll draw straws from the remaining contestants to fill the open spaces.”

  I lean toward Penny’s ear, and she stiffens. Hell, is she always going to stiffen around me? “Look. Ace is out. Our chances are getting better and better by the minute.”

  And I know it. I know from the way she won’t look at me. The way she tenses whenever I’m near. Her body may react to me, but she’s got that big brain of hers telling her no, telling her to run as far and fast as she can in the other direction.

  She’s probably better off that way.

  Her answer is going to be no.

  “Now, couple number two!” Will Wang says, moving toward us. “Prince Charming and the lovely doctor. Talk about a striking couple! Dr. Carpenter, what about you? Have you had fun here so far?”

  She swallows and nods.

  “All right. So, let’s not keep the people waiting. What say you? Are you going on for the million, or does your journey end here tonight? We do, or no way?”

  She looks in my direction for a blink, brings her mouth close to the mic, and says, “We do.”

  And I swear I could hug her. If I knew she wouldn’t flinch away.

  WE DO

  Nell

  No, I did not think they’d make us marry right then. I thought possibly the winners might have to do that, because that’s the name of the show, but I figured I’d be long gone by that time. It’s fine. I mean, obviously my parents are probably thinking I’ve lost my mind. But we’re obviously going to get it annulled the moment we get eliminated.

  —Nell’s Confessional, Day 2

  Ten minutes later, we’re all standing on a podium. There are nine couples total now; after several of the contestants decided not to marry while others were rescued from the loser pool, the winners were put in a pool and had their names chosen and paired at random until we got up to nine teams. We’re listening to the justice of the peace spout out the basic marriage vows, “for richer, for poorer,” and all that. But he’s doing it in a game-show-host voice, the spotlight is making me sweat, and I look like crap after that last challenge. Plus, I’m wearing workout capris, my sneakers are full of lime Jell-O, and I have a cheesy white veil on my head that has an MDM clip in rhinestones.

  If my parents could see me now . . .

  Well, hopefully by the time they see me, this’ll be over and I’ll already have the marriage annulled.

  “Now, brides, take your husband-to-be’s hand in your own, gaze deeply into his eyes, and repeat after me . . .”

  I swallow. Luke’s hand is like twice the size of mine, calloused and rough, but warm. Mine is slick with sweat. I look up into those green eyes of his. In this light, I can see the amber flecks within them.

  We are toe to toe. Hand in hand. So close I can feel the heat from his body. His skin is glistening, and I bet it tastes like lime and sweat.

  God, he’s beautiful. So beautiful it almost drowns out the cheesy justice’s voice. So beautiful I almost forget the cameras and spotlight and that we’re here in the Georgia Tech rec center, about to compete on a game show.

  I manage to choke out the “I do.”

  Then the justice turns to the men and asks them the same. Luke says, his voice a low tremor, “I do,” even as the words “till death do you part” are still hanging in the air. The rings we exchange are gold tone, but plastic, and say MDM on them; they really spared all expense with that detail.

  “I now pronounce you man and wife,” the justice says.

  And just like that, Luke Cross and I are married.

  I’m married. Married to the dirty yeti who can’t stop staring at me.

  “You may now kiss the bride.”

  My eyes widen. I turn to the justice in shock.

  Luke doesn’t even attempt it. We just stand there awkwardly. Behind me, I hear the sounds of a scuffle and whirl to look. Ace—who managed to get back in the game because his number was drawn to pair with a dark-haired beauty named Marta—just got slapped. “No touch me!” she shrieks.

  I look back up at Luke. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. Not going to try.”

  “Thanks,” I mumble.

  “Now,” Will Wang says, st
riding down the podium and grinning big, “take a look at your nine happy couples. They’re getting ready to embark on a honeymoon, if you will. But this is no ordinary honeymoon! First, a few ground rules!”

  Will starts to explain the details of the game. When we arrive at the first stop, we’ll be given $5,000, which we’ll need to budget for travel to the locations we’ll be visiting. For the most part, flights will be booked for us to keep an air of mystery as to the next location, but we have to secure most of the ground transportation and lodging. At most stops, there will be challenges that will test our ability to work as a couple. Places will be determined based on how we fare on those challenges and how soon we arrive at each check-in. The last couple to arrive at the final outpost or check-in during each leg of the journey will be eliminated, though there will be several stops along the way that are non-elimination rounds. I listen to all this, feeling dizzy and overwhelmed. “Sounds like The Amazing Race,” someone says. I shrug dumbly. Now I kind of wish I’d watched that show. Maybe then I’d have some idea what to expect.

  A staff member urges us off the risers and rushes us out of the room as Wang is still talking. I catch, “Right now, they’re going to be shuttled off to an undisclosed location in the United States, where the hardest test of their relationship will begin! Who will learn to work together? Who will be torn—”

  The doors close, and then they’re running us down the hallway we entered through. Outside is a big tour bus. They load us all on, telling us that our packs are already loaded and that we need to sit with our spouses.

  My spouse.

  Oh my god, I’m married.

  To this hot, dirty, completely-wrong-for-me hunk.

  Still sticky with Jell-O, we sit down, all eighteen of us, and I look out the window as the Georgia Tech rec center disappears from view. “Where are they taking us?” I ask after a few minutes.

  “Airport,” he says.

  He’s right. We’re heading south down I-85, toward the Atlanta International Airport. “You think it’s going to get a lot more intense? Dangerous?”

  He nods. “I think they’re gonna fuck with us as much as they can.”

  I cringe.

  He notes it with some amusement. “What? You don’t like the word fuck?”

  I cringe again.

  “Or is it the action you have a problem with?”

  “I don’t approve of that kind of talk, actually. I find it low class.”

  “Oh. Well, I’m sorry, Mrs. Cross. I’ll try to tone it down—”

  “No. Not Mrs. Cross.” He gives me a confused look, and I explain. “I’m going to keep my name when I get married. I’m not even going to hyphenate. And I earned my title. I’ll always be Dr. Carpenter, thanks.”

  He squints. “You’re bullshitting me.”

  I cringe again.

  “All right, Dr. Carpenter. So before we get on the plane, let’s get a few things straight so we can win this.” He lowers his voice and leans toward my ear. “Ace and Marta are the ones to look out for. I don’t know about Marta, but as we’ve already seen, Ace is gonna play dirty.”

  He peeks between the seats to make sure no one is looking.

  “Ivy’s strong and competitive, but she can’t beat me, and her partner, Cody, is about as weak as they come. Brad’s tough. He and Natalie are going to be a hard team to beat too. He’s athletic, and she’s a badass.”

  I stare at him. I barely know these people’s names. I’ve been so busy just making sure I don’t trip and fall flat on my face. How has he sized up the competition so quickly?

  “The others are no problem. So. Number one, I want you to trust me. Completely. And I will trust you. We are each other’s first and most unbreakable alliance. You got that?”

  I’m surprised by how serious he sounds. He’s definitely in it to win it. Which sucks for him, since I’m probably going to let him down big-time. Hell, I was out of breath from that tiny run from the arena to the bus. “Fine.”

  “Number two, you have to chill out. Stop worrying about everything and just relax. Do as I tell you and everything will be fine.”

  Is he serious? “I never said I was worried.”

  “Your body says it enough for you,” he says, running his finger down my bare arm, which is a sea of Jell-O–covered goose bumps. I shudder, not so much from the touch but because it feels unnaturally good. Like I could use a whole lot more of that. “Jeez. Fuck. Are you always this uptight?”

  “No. Just when I get married to complete strangers.”

  He laughs. Is this all just a game to him?

  “What? You don’t care that you’re now wedded to someone you just met and would never even consider marrying otherwise?” I demand.

  He shrugs. “It’s not real.”

  “Yes, it is. As cheesy as it was, we have an official license with our name on it. So we basically just spit in the face of a time-honored tradition that should be treated with respect. I sullied my dreams for the future with a husband I love. People will look at me when I get married for real and think I’m a fraud because I married you. For what? Money? I feel . . . dirty.”

  He considers this. “Hell, when you put it that way . . . All I know is, it don’t go against my dreams for the future. I never planned on marriage at all. That ain’t my thing.”

  He’s so gross. “By that you mean commitment? Love? Monogamy?”

  He gives me a look of disgust. “Yeah. All that shit. Maybe you just need to relax and not worry about what other people think so much.”

  “I can’t help how I act. And yes, I’m normally high-strung. It’s an asset, actually. I’m organized, focused, and competitive, even if I’m not athletic. That’s why I graduated summa cum laude with all my degrees.”

  “Don’t know what that means. All I know is you’re uptight as hell. You’d be hot as fuck if you weren’t so wired, maybe lost those glasses you’re hiding behind. Take it easy, baby.”

  I scowl at him. I don’t care about being hot. Even though he’s probably right. People have called me an uptight stick-in-the-mud all my life. “Don’t call me baby.”

  “Whatever, sweetheart. Number three, you seem to be down on yourself a lot,” he says, his eyes not leaving mine. “And there’re going to be a lot of physical challenges in this. I don’t want to hear I can’t from you, even once. If you’re having trouble, tell me. I’ll help you through. And I’ll be asking you if there’s a puzzle or anything that involves more brain cells than I got. I don’t know a lot, but I’m never gonna tell you I can’t. Got it?”

  I don’t really care for his manner. He’s acting like those vows we took means he owns me. “Anything else?”

  He scratches the scruff on his chin. “Don’t think so.”

  “All right. Well, I’ve got something. Absolutely no touching me. And no, we do not sleep in the same bed. And if they make us share a room, I get the bed and you get . . . something else, preferably in another room. Also, don’t think that because I’m your wife on paper that it entitles you to any of the normal things wives do for their husbands. Think of this as a business arrangement. Nothing more. Okay?”

  The corners of his mouth twist up in amusement. “Yes, ma’am.”

  I nod, satisfied that he’s actually gotten it through his brain. I glimpse the airport in the distance and exhale.

  Then I hear him say, under his breath, “But I expect you to change your mind on that.”

  I swing my head to look at him. “Under no circumstances will I change my mind!”

  He shrugs. “If you say so, baby.”

  “I know so! And do not call me baby or sweetheart or any of those things, because I’m not amused!” I cross my arms and pretend he’s dead for the rest of the trip.

  Which isn’t very long. The next moment, the bus pulls to a stop. I look at him, and he reaches over and gently touches my cheek.

  And he brings his fingertip to his tongue and licks it. “Damn. You taste sweet.”

  I nearly die right there.r />
  The touch is as light as a feather, but it rockets straight to my core.

  “Did you listen to a single thing I said?” I demand as my temperature skyrockets. “No touching?”

  He stares at me for a long time, then licks his lips. “Yeah. I heard. But I have a thing against following directions. Especially from someone as lickable as you.”

  My jaw drops. My mind whirls.

  I can think of nothing.

  Except that he just called me lickable. Me. Lickable?

  One of the staff members walks down the aisle handing out black cloths to us. “When you board the airplane, please be seated with your spouse. You will be instructed to put on your blindfold after the flight takes off.”

  Blindfold? Great. Being blindfolded next to my spouse is probably a recipe for disaster, considering the fact that he just. Tasted. Me.

  We get our bags and board a jet. I take out my book, and I’m struggling to load my backpack into the overhead bin when Luke effortlessly shoves it in.

  “Thanks.” As I sit next to Luke, I notice his hands tighten on the armrests. He has his earbuds in, as they let us keep our phones, but they blocked data, Wi-Fi, texting, and calling. I decide I’ll put mine in, and maybe we won’t have to talk. But then curiosity gets the best of me. “You don’t like flying?”

  He smirks at me. “Never done it before.”

  “Seriously?” Somehow that makes me feel better. Braver. “It’s nothing to worry about.”

  “Never said I was worried.”

  “Your body says it enough for you,” I say, mimicking his voice as I point out his grip on the armrest. I’m careful not to touch him.

  His fingers loosen. He starts to twist the plastic MDM ring on his finger. “You fly a lot?”

  I nod. “I’m from Cape Cod.” Not that I go back there much.

  “Where’s that?”

  “Massachusetts.”

  “What’s a Yank like you doing down south?”

  I smile. “Wanted to get away from my family, I guess. Came down here and had no interest in ever going back. I’ve lived here eight years, getting my undergraduate degree, my master’s, and my doctorate.”