His Brutal Game by Audrey Rush

CHAPTER 4

Maisie

After the photographer flashed one last picture, I laid in the grass, waiting for instructions from the coordinator. A shadow cast over me. My father-in-law’s gray hair came into view, the sun shining behind him. He offered me a hand, and though I hesitated for a moment, I took it, letting him help me up.

“You’ve spoken to him twice now,” he said. “And not so much as a kiss.”

The hairs on my arms stood on end. “You’re watching us?”

“Us?” He chuckled to himself. “I’m waiting to see if you will fulfill our business deal, as planned.”

Why was he so rushed? “We just got married,” I said.

“And I don’t see you being the honorable bride, waiting for your wedding night, given your—” he wrinkled his nose, “—previous profession.”

I glared at him. It was a job. My job. But that didn’t mean that I had to throw myself at every man I met, even if one bang was worth a million dollars. And it’s not like I hadn’t tried. Wilder was hard to crack.

“You didn’t exactly give me a deadline,” I said.

“It’s not that hard. Fuck my son. Fuck him every day until he needs your cunt. Then you’ll have your wealth and you will be free to use it however you like.”

Since when had it changed to screwing him multiple times? Wilder didn’t seem like the kind of person who wanted to do it twice a week.

“What if I use it to divorce your son?” I asked.

He laughed. “Wilder may not care for you, but our family has a long history of punishing disloyal parties. I’d be careful of what you say.”

Everything inside of me wanted to take the gym shoes I was wearing underneath the dress and shove them up his ass. But I had to be patient. I had to smile and do as I was told. A million dollars was on the line, and if I did everything the right way, I could have a lot more than a million. I just had to find out what would give me the upper hand.

I smiled at my father-in-law. “You’re right. I’ll be careful,” I lied.

The wedding photographer called me and the groom over. Wilder put a stiff arm around my back. His fingers stroked my bare skin, slick with sweat.

“I know,” I muttered. “I’m sweating like we’re roasting in hell.”

Wilder sucked in a breath, but he said nothing. No retort. Not even a sigh. We simply posed, waiting for instructions from the photographer. And once we were given the thumbs up, Wilder headed across to the reception area quicker than you could say ‘Just Married,’ opting to walk alone rather than drive with the rest of us. He might have approved of me, maybe even asked for me, but that didn’t mean that he wanted anything to do with me.

By the time I got to the reception, he was gone. Though the seating was assigned and I was placed next to my husband at the head of the room, his chair was empty. It was like he couldn’t stand to be next to me, or to be near anyone. And yet none of the guests seemed disturbed by it. Maybe they expected it from him.

Call it a security deposit, Bambi’s warning popped into my head. Use it to your advantage before they use you.

I jerked my head around, trying to spot my husband like a stroke of black paint on a rainbow canvas. Finally, I saw him against one of the white pine trees, pulling apart a bread roll. At least he was human enough to eat. When he looked up, instantly catching my eyes, I raised my champagne. He shook his head. Fine. He had dismissed me. Again. But I wasn’t going to stop trying.

A man, about his height, though slimmer and more traditionally athletic, pulled up a chair next to me. “Do you know anything about our family?” he asked.

I swung around. His suit was similar to Wilder’s, but more expensive and clean. And his dark hair was styled neatly. Wilder’s best and only man, the reason I had a stranger for a bridesmaid in the first place.

“You must be my brother-in-law,” I said.

“Sawyer Feldman,” he said, offering his hand. “I’m the other Feldman son.” I must have proven to him how little I knew. After shaking his hand, I rubbed my palm on my dress. “Why did you agree to marry my brother?” he asked.

I wrinkled my brow. Why was he asking me a question like that? “Isn’t that something your father should have told you?”

“Let me rephrase that. Why did you agree to the arrangement?” He scratched his jaw. “Money? Class? Protection?”

I wrinkled my forehead at him. Why did my reasons matter?

“All the above?” I said.

“What exactly do you know about my family?”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m part of your family now. I’ll learn as I go.”

“No wonder Forrest likes you. You’re even dumber than I thought.”

I gritted my teeth. I had been through a lot and I was a lot of bad things, but stupid was not one of them.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said.

“You were desperate,” he smirked. “You took the first chance that came along, promising you a great future. And here you are, married to someone you don’t know at all.” He sniffed down his nose at me. “Let’s see if I can read you. My father offered you money. Gave you enough upfront so that you’d believe him. And you went for it.”

I clenched my jaw. “I—”

“How many times have you spoken to Wilder?” My cheeks burned. Wilder wasn’t posted against that tree anymore. “Once?” Sawyer chuckled. “Twice?” He ran a hand through his hair, his smile condescending. “You agreed to an arranged marriage, with a man you’ve spoken to twice, because you were in a bad situation.”

“I never said anything about a bad situation,” I snapped.

“It wasn’t my father’s idea to select you.” I bit my lip. Was he implying that he had helped Forrest pick me for Wilder? He continued: “And we knew you were a sex worker. Which, in all honesty, is exactly what my brother needs. Someone to agree to whatever he needs to get off, then call it a day.”

“Is he a creep or something?” I asked.

“You know how much pent-up frustration my brother carries with him every day?”

Heat built underneath the surface of my skin, as if my dress was on fire. “Why would he be frustrated?” I asked.

He tilted his head. “You’ll learn as you go, right? He takes it out on his job.”

I closed my fists at my side, gripping my dress. “Takes out what?”

“He obsesses over it. Each order. Each command. Each livestock order handled with precision. Anything that has to do with the family business.”

I squeezed the side of my chair, the scar on my hand stretching with the gesture. “Isn’t that a good thing, to handle your family business well?” I crossed my arms. “Having motivation is a good thing.”

“It’s not motivation,” he said. “It’s a fixation.”

I rolled my eyes. “So what?”

“One day, he’s going to take it out on you.”

Silence filled the gap between us, the tings of forks and knives hitting the plates. The steak and roasted summer vegetables in front of me were getting cold. Where was Wilder? And what was so bad that he was going to take his frustration out on me?

Was his brother trying to warn me?

“Take what out on me?” I whispered.

“You really don’t know.” Sawyer blinked his eyes. “What will you do when it happens? Who will protect you?” He lifted his chin. “You don’t have any family.”

My heart dropped. I sneered. “I’ll protect myself.” Like I always had, and always would.

“If that were true, you’d know better. But maybe this is your own suicidal mission.” he laughed.

“Who said anything about death?”

“You.” He stood up, looking down at me. “You think I’m bad, but you have no idea who you married.”

“You’re right.”

Sawyer studied me. I knew that whatever preconceived notions I had of Wilder weren’t real. I didn’t know anything about him, and he had so many walls and was constantly trying to put more space between us, that it was impossible to get a feel for who he was inside.

Yes, I knew that what I had done was a big, bad mistake, but I was going to own it with everything I had.

They were ranchers, right? Livestock. Cattle. Or was it goats?

Sawyer caught eyes with someone in the second row of tables and instantly transformed into a charming man, shaking my hand to leave and scooting away. I sighed with relief, but only for a moment. Forrest had his eyes on me, and when I turned, Wilder was watching me too.

I held my breath. What had I agreed to, exactly?

After we ate, the coordinator came up to me, holding a clipboard. “Where’s your groom?” she asked, grinning widely. “It’s time to do the first dance.”

I scanned the area, unable to find him. I dashed across the yard frantically. Most of the people at the round tables were gawking at me. My skin heated, but it didn’t matter. They didn’t know where he was either.

Right?

I checked behind the main house, then by the storage unit, and the first barn, the one that wasn’t locked. An envelope caught my eye, unmarked, tucked under the mat inside of the entrance. It was full of twenties, more than I could count at a glance. I tucked a handful into my purse, then glimpsed around, making sure no one had seen. Bambi and I would have to figure out a meeting point off of the farm.

I texted Bambi quickly: I’ve got a present for you.

The sun set across the horizon. Someone drove a UTV, circling the cattle, but it wasn’t him.

Wilder wasn’t on the property anymore. He had gone somewhere else. He had left without me.

At the edge of the reception area, Forrest was talking to another man in a suit. They both turned to me. “Hi,” I said, my cheeks hot. “Any idea where Wilder is? We’re supposed to have the first dance—”

“Can’t even keep track of my boy on his wedding day,” Forrest said. “That’s my boy. Go on.” He pointed toward the field. “Find him. I can’t help you.”

“Mrs. Feldman?” the coordinator asked, coming up behind me. “We tried reaching his cell phone, but maybe if you called him, he might pick up for you.”

I didn’t have the nerve to admit that I didn’t have his phone number. I didn’t know how much she knew, and that embarrassed me. “I’m working on it,” I said.

At the head table, Sawyer was sitting in the middle, the rest of the chairs discarded. A woman sat across from him, her eyes wide and enraptured. His brother had to know something.

“Where is he?” I demanded.

Sawyer smirked like he was saying, I told you so, in his head.

“Working,” he said, like that was the only possible explanation. His earlier warnings about Wilder’s work came rushing back. What was so important that he left his own wedding reception? Was he angry now, taking out his rage during his job? Was work his only coping mechanism?

I didn’t have the answers, and I realized I might never get them. His family didn’t want to help me. His father only wanted me to screw his son, and his brother wanted to belittle me until I left of my own volition. But I had been through worse. The Feldman Farm was unknown territory, but that didn’t scare me.

And that itch, that need to know, bubbled inside of me. I had to get the upper hand, like Bambi said. I had to find out what would make Wilder Feldman leave his own wedding.

What was his secret?