The Wrong Husband Novel Emilia and Damian – I was married. My husband a.k.a. my sister’s ex-boyfriend, was sleeping next to me in a bed in a suite at the Bellagio in Las Vegas. Initially, we were having a good time. He was drunk and I was a little tipsy. Next thing I knew we were saying, “I do” and Elvis pronounced us husband and wife. I was in love with Damian Archer. Had been since I was a child and my father started to work for Archer Galleries. I’d been five and Damian had been fifteen. Love at first sight. Instalove. Crazy about you kinda love. I’ll die for you love. I decided I’d wait for Damian. Eventually, he’d notice me and fall in love with me.
I’d come to Vegas because I knew Emilia would be here. I came here to seduce her. I did exactly what I’d planned to do high on anger. Bianca didn’t know that I knew about her affair with Matt Stanton. That was why there would be no reconciliation, ever. There was no world in which I’d forgive her for cheating on me. Anger had propelled me to go after the one woman I knew that Bianca disliked, the one that would hurt her the most to see me with. I had only thought of sleeping with Emilia. But then we were at that stupid chapel, and I thought this would be another way to show Bianca that I was off the market. But you don’t want to be married to Plain Jane Invisible Emilia, Damian. No, I didn’t. She had just been a tool to hurt Bianca the way she’d hurt me. I hadn’t thought about the consequences.
Emilia I was married. My husband a.k.a. my sister’s ex-boyfriend, was sleeping next to me in a bed in a suite at the Bellagio in Las Vegas. Initially, we were having a good time. He was drunk and I was a little tipsy. Next thing I knew we were saying, “I do” and Elvis pronounced us husband and wife. I was in love with Damian Archer. Had been since I was a child and my father started to work for Archer Galleries. I’d been five and Damian had been fifteen. Love at first sight. Instalove. Crazy about you kinda love. I’ll die for you love. I decided I’d wait for Damian. Eventually, he’d notice me and fall in love with me. It didn’t work out that way. Damian did fall in love but not with me. He fell madly in love. ‘Balls deep, I will f-ck you until I die’ kind of love with Bianca. My sister and Damian were together for three years. There were ups and downs. They broke up and made up right away.
This time they had been broken up for over a month and there was no sign of reconciliation. I didn’t know what happened. I never knew what happened with my sister. Bianca and my mother were a team; and I was on a need to know basis…and I needed to know nothing. My father was an island unto himself. I was the loser sister, the Invisible Miss Winters. So, when Damian paid me attention, what was I supposed to do? My knees went weak, and I was a slobbering mess. When we wandered off onto the strip and ended up at Silver Bells Wedding Chapel, Damian joked (on his knees), “Marry me, Emilia. I’m heartbroken. Heal me, babe.” Babe? Yeah, so wrong thing to focus on. I should’ve focused on the heartbroken part. My sister had broken his heart. I should’ve had better sense than to say what I did. “Of course, I’ll marry you.” There was no excuse.
I wasn’t that drunk, but I pretended, even to myself, that I was. This man was giving me everything I had ever wanted in my twenty-three years—I couldn’t say no. I shouldn’t have done it. He was drunk, still sore about Bianca. I took advantage of him. God! Why did I have to marry him? Because you’re a horrible person. You stole your sister’s boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend. No stealing was involved, I told myself petulantly. I hadn’t expected to see Damian in Vegas. I was here for a meeting. I worked for my mother and Bianca, they were co-CEOs of Make Me Beautiful, a chain of salons that catered to the rich and famous. Chain was maybe inappropriate—they had three salons, one in San Francisco, one in Oakland, and the third in Santa Clara. I didn’t think they should’ve opened the two salons, which they did in quick succession, burning through money. This was why I was working for them—helping them because they couldn’t afford to hire a proper buyer.
I was in Vegas to meet with distributors and while I was getting a drink at the Bellagio, in walked Damian Archer and my panties melted away. Now, he lay on his stomach, his face turned toward me. He was beautiful. Steel-gray eyes. Long lashes. Olive complexion, thanks to Marcela, his Spanish mother who had a temper to match. I wanted to touch him but didn’t feel I had the right even though we were now married, even though last night we had intercourse . I had intercourse with Damian Archer! I was mortified and thrilled all at the same time. I’d given him my chastity. Now, I’m not one of those girls who thinks her chastity is some gift. I wanted to offload it years ago, but the Invisible Miss Winters simply couldn’t get her act together and date, couldn’t find a man to be interested enough in her to f-ck her. The intercourse with Damian had been amazing. Or maybe this was how intercourse was supposed to be. What did I know? What I did know was that I hadn’t expected to have one climax the first time I had intercourse and instead I had three. Count with me: one, two, three. One with his fingers.
One with his tongue. One with his shaft. I had expected pain and there was some of that but honest to God, this was intercourse that romance writers write about. The kind of intercourse that makes readers reach for their vibrators. “I want you, babe.” Again, with that babe. I hated it when he called me that. He called all his women babe. Except Bianca. He called her Sweet Bianca. “I want you too, Damian.” God, I was so naïve. I should’ve said something sexier but that’s all I could get out of my mouth. He took my dress off, the one I’d been wearing all day for work meetings. It was a beige sheath Anne Klein bought on sale that hung on my body like almost all clothes did. I didn’t have curves like Bianca. I was flat…to the point that when someone did notice me like they did in high school, I went from Invisible Miss Winters to Ironing Board Miss Winters. I preferred being invisible. He squeezed my breasts and I whimpered. His eyes glazed over. “You’re so f-cking responsive, Em.” “It’s you,” I whispered. I was so turned on that I thought I’d die. He lay me down undressed on the bed and smooched me. It was our second smooch. The first was when Elvis told us we could after we said we do. This smooch was deep.
His mouth was soft and hard at the same time. How often had I watched his mouth and wondered what it would be like to smooch him? He tasted like leather and smoke; like aged whiskey. My papillae pebbled and my private part got wet. I’d never smooched a man this way. I’d smooched…some guys had even groped around, but nothing had felt like this. I felt hot and cold at the same time, like a fever was burning inside me. His hands moved over my body. “I don’t know what to touch first. Tell me how you like to be touched.” I licked my lips. “I don’t know,” I confessed. “What does that mean?” he asked softly. I swallowed. “Never had intercourse before.” He got up then and stood at the foot of the bed staring at me. His expression was…angry. Yeah, he was furious. Was he upset that I hadn’t had intercourse before? Well, everyone starts out a virgin. I wasn’t that special. Or maybe I was too abhorrent. My inexperience was distasteful to him. “Damian?” He blinked. “Yeah, babe.” He started to take his suit off, all the while he looked at me like I was a puzzle he needed to put together. When he was relieved of all his clothing, I breathed a sigh of relief. This was going to happen. He wasn’t going to leave me undressed and walk away.
He wasn’t going to reject me. He got on the bed, his face tight like he was exerting an immense amount of control on himself. He parted my thighs and I flinched. His hands tightened and I knew he’d leave marks. I relished it because it told me he felt something for me, felt passion. “Birth control?” he asked huskily. His fingers caressing my pubic curls. If I’d known I’d be getting married, I would’ve gotten a bikini wax, but elopement had not been on my bingo card…like ever. “Yes, I’m good,” I murmured. I had endometriosis and the doctor had recommended an I.U.D. to make my periods less painful. He watched me as his fingers probed me. I winced. I wasn’t tiny. I had used a vibrator before but there was something about his warm finger invading me. My breathing was ragged. He pulled his finger out and brought it to his mouth. I gasped when he tasted my juices with his eyes closed. “God, Em, you taste like f-cking heaven.” He called me Em. I liked that. Much, much better than babe.
Everything went dark for a long moment. When I surfaced from what I knew was intense pleasure, his face was buried in my neck. He was breathing hard. Nothing had ever felt this good before. It took a while, but he lifted his head and looked at me. “You okay?” he asked. I nodded and then smiled. “Very okay.” And that was when he shut down. Suddenly, he pulled out of me and went into the bathroom. What did I do? He came out and tilted his head toward the bathroom. “You should get cleaned up.” I should? Yeah. I had his release flowing out of me, so I should. I didn’t know why he was angry all of a sudden. I didn’t want to know because I suspected it had something to do with Bianca. Now that he’d had a climax, his head had gone to where it normally went to—the love of his life. I took a shower because I was crying, and I wanted to drown the sobs with water.
I had the best experience of my life and right after, I felt my heart breaking. By the time I got back to the room there were fresh sheets on the bed. I didn’t ask how he managed that. I could imagine he had housekeeping come pronto and get rid of the sheets that had blood and semen on them. God! That was embarrassing. He was in a pair of black boxers, and it made me dizzy to look at him. The man was intercourse on two legs. Before I could eye f-ck him some more, he held up two pills in one hand and a glass of water in the other. “What?” I asked, tightening the complimentary hotel white terry robe around me. “Ibuprofen. For the pain,” he said gruffly. “Pain?” “Em, it was your first time. It’s going to hurt later on.” I took the pills and washed them down with the water he held. I didn’t have my things here. Did he want me to leave? Go back to my room? I looked around to see where my clothes were so I could wear them and do the walk of shame. “I have something for you to sleep in.” He pointed to the closet, outside of which hung a killing black negligee. He wanted me to sleep here with him? That was a good thing, right? He wasn’t kicking me out. “How? When?” “I got it at the hotel boutique,” he explained. “Do you want me to go back to my room?” I asked. He cupped my cheek. “No. It’s our wedding night. Sleep with me.”
He sounded more determined than happy. He regretted it, that much was obvious. What did he regret more, the intercourse or the wedding? If we hadn’t had intercourse maybe we could have just annulled the marriage. I almost rolled my eyes at myself. We could still annul the marriage. This wasn’t the Victorian times where we had to prove that I was untouched and virginal. “Thanks,” I replied lamely, still staring at the lingerie. “Let’s get some sleep.” I was still in that stupid negligee. It was beautiful. Lacy and comfortable. La Perla according to the label. I couldn’t afford things like this. I had a regular job. My family had money, but it was their money. My father was the CFO of Archer Galleries, an art and antiquities juggernaut, in the same league at the Sotheby’s. Damian was the CEO of Archer Galleries Worldwide, while his older brother Duncan managed the European business and Dean the Asian. His parents were officially retired but still involved as board members. My mother and sister were entrepreneurs in their own right. Their salons weren’t successful…yet, but they were well on their way according to everyone. I was a struggling artist. I had a small loft apartment on the wrong end of Market Street in San Francisco.
It was more studio than apartment. So far, I’d managed to win a few art awards and get my work into non-descript galleries. My parents had never thought I was a good enough artist. It stung because my father’s business was art. But it was what I loved, and my teachers and various mentors told me that my surreal style was intense and thought provoking. They advised me to keep honing my skill. When my mother and sister asked me to work for them because they didn’t have the funds to hire employees, I’d had a job offer with Sotheby’s to restore art. It was what I wanted to do. But family came first so I turned down the job. My relationship with my mother and sister wasn’t tight—but I hoped that if I helped them with their new business we would become close; that they asked me meant they trusted me. Instead of working on Renoirs, I spent a lot of time talking to distributors, making sure the products used in the salons were organic and were delivered on time. It was a hard job and took a lot out of me, but I still made time for my art. I was hoping that when I had a collection of fifteen paintings, I could create a portfolio and take it around to galleries. One day, I would get my chance. Just like I had gotten a chance to be with Damian. Obviously, it was all a big mistake and the minute he woke up he’d tell me that we needed to get this sham of a marriage annulled. I knew that. But I’d touched Damian and he’d been inside me.
His eyes opened then as if he could hear my thoughts. He looked at me still half asleep. I could literally see his brain process my presence. “Good morning,” I whispered and smiled tentatively. “When’s your flight?” he asked. “In three hours.” “Maybe you should get ready.” I frowned. “Ah…Damian, I’d like to talk about last night.” He sat up. “We will. Let’s do it when we’re back at home, yeah?” “Wouldn’t…ah…wouldn’t it be easier to get the…thing annulled or whatever right away?” He stared at me like I’d asked him to dance at Chippendales in a tutu. “Annulled?” I licked my lips. “Look, you were drunk and…I know you don’t want to be married to me.” He arched an eyebrow. “And how would you know that, Emilia?” The way he said my name was killing. I wasn’t even wearing panties, but they were melting wherever they were. “I just…I mean…you were with Bianca and…,” I sighed, “Look, you and Bianca break up and make up all the time. Let’s just fix this so no one has to know about it. Or…maybe it’s not even legal. Is it?” “It’s legal.” He got out of bed. His black boxers cupped his very fine and tight hip.
It was like a dream to have him like this with me. Like a fantasy come true. “Okay.” “We need to obviously fix this,” he remarked. “Yes.” “I’m assuming you don’t want to stay married to me?” He sounded unsure and I was certain I was in a scene in a movie, and I didn’t know my lines. Any minute now the director was going jump into the scene and scream, “Cut.” “Do you want to stay married to me?” This was the strangest question I’d ever thought I’d ask anyone…and I was asking it of Damian. “We’re married,” he said matter-of-factly. “You don’t want to miss your flight, Emilia. I’ll see you in San Francisco. Let’s say tomorrow at ten in my office and figure this out.” I climbed out of bed myself, suddenly feeling tired, exhausted, emotionally drained. What was going on? “We’ll discuss logistics. Do you need the bathroom?” I nodded. “Go ahead. What’s your room number? I’ll get someone to pack up your things and bring them here.” I was too tired to argue about a stranger going through my things, so I just gave him the number and told him the key was in my purse. As he walked out of the bedroom, I called out to him, “Damian. Are we really married?” I asked inanely. He didn’t smile. He looked serious and irritated.
“Yes, Emilia, we’re really married. Now, get ready.” Damian Ihad trouble looking at myself in the mirror. As soon as Emilia stepped out of the bathroom, I went in so I could avoid her while she finished getting ready. I felt guilty as f-ck. Which made sense because I f-cking was. I’d come to Vegas because I knew Emilia would be here. I came here to seduce her. I did exactly what I’d planned to do high on anger. How the f-ck would I have known that she was a twenty-three year old virgin? I mean, in this day and age you have to have something wrong with you for that to happen. I took her chastity. The intercourse should’ve been mediocre at best. But it wasn’t. It was the very best intercourse of my life and it had been with an inexperienced woman, with Emilia f-cking Winters. I had come harder than I ever had. It had taken everything out of me to not f-ck her again and again and again. Two things stopped me effectively. The first, she’d bled, and she was probably sore as f-ck.
The other…I was in love with her sister. Right? I suddenly resented that Bianca wasn’t the last woman I f-cked. But then again, I wasn’t the last man Bianca f-cked either, I thought bitterly. It had been so dam-ed good with Emilia. So unexpectedly amazing. She’d been responsive and exciting. I thought about all the ways in which I could teach her…and that’s when I looked at her, right after I came. It was there in her eyes. Love, affection, devotion…all things I didn’t deserve. I pulled out of her and got out of there. f-ck! I didn’t have a very good excuse. I had an explanation. I got scared. She’d been a virgin and I’d taken her. Not only that, but I also loved that I was her first and the thought that plagued me was that I wanted to be her last. What was wrong with me? I was not an old-fashioned alpha male. I was a mature and worldly man. But I couldn’t help how my shaft was hard again, just thinking about how I’d claimed Emilia’s untouched private part. How her eyes had gone wide with each climax. She made me feel like a f-cking king and that terrified the life out of me.
Damian Archer, the CEO of the most ruthless art auctioneer in the business was afraid of his very recently virginal wife. I had trouble believing it and I was living it. Compared to Bianca, Emilia was…well, different. She wasn’t vivacious. She was small and thin, curve-less. But when I touched her, I could feel she worked out. Those feminine arms were strong. I felt their strength when she held me while I pounded into her. God, her cherry almost strangled my shaft. It felt so f-cking good. She was so dam-ed responsive. I barely touched her cherries, and she was wet. I had no choice but to taste her. And that’s when I knew I was in trouble. But there was no way I’d stop. I wanted her. It was like a fever inside me. Mine. Mine. Mine. I didn’t mind going down on women, but it wasn’t a regular on my repertoire. But I couldn’t resist it with Em. My Emilia. The last woman I’d made come with my mouth and hands was Bianca. A part of me felt I was cheating on her—and what a joke that was. Bianca didn’t know that I knew about her affair with Matt Stanton. That was why there would be no reconciliation, ever.
There was no world in which I’d forgive her for cheating on me. Our relationship was tempestuous. We fought. Of course, we did. We were two passionate people with hot tempers. We argued. We f-cked. And no matter how many times we broke up, we ended up back together. But not this time. Anger had propelled me to go after the one woman I knew that Bianca disliked, the one that would hurt her the most to see me with. I had only thought of f-cking Emilia. But then we were at that stupid chapel, and I thought this would be another way to show Bianca that I was off the f-cking market. I ran a hand through my hair, staring into my eyes in the mirror. I was married. What the f-ck had I done? f-cking Em would have been one thing but marriage? And she’d given me an out when she started talking about an annulment—the fact that she mentioned it made me angry. What, she was too good for me? Is that what she thought? But you don’t want to be married to Plain Jane Invisible Emilia, Damian.
No, I didn’t. She had just been a tool to hurt Bianca the way she’d hurt me. I hadn’t thought about the consequences. I had a meeting with Gideon right after reviewing the report from the private investigator I had hired. Recklessly, I asked Gideon, Bianca, and Emilia’s father where his younger daughter was. He told me and I chased her down. Finding her hadn’t been difficult. I knew Vegas well. A few phone calls and I knew the exact hotel she was at; and a few more told me where she’d just run her credit card. My phone buzzed and I grimaced. It was a message from Bianca: Baby, where are you? Don’t do this, Damian. I miss you. I love you, dam- you. I loved her too. Loved her so f-cking much. But she’d been sleeping with Stanton for four months when she’d been mine. The fact was that while she was texting me, proclaiming her love, she was still sleeping with him. I understood why she was panicked. We usually broke up for a few days and got back together.
This time we’d ended a month ago, and I hadn’t picked up the phone once when she called. I hadn’t texted her back. I had suspected an affair, which was why I’d stayed away and when my investigator confirmed it, well that had been the last nail on the proverbial coffin. It would have been painful if she f-cked Stanton after we broke up; but the fact that she’d been sleeping with him before, that was a deal breaker. There was a knock on the bathroom door. “Yes?” “Damian, ah…it’s Emilia.” I sighed. Who the f-ck else would it be but her? “Yeah?” “I’m leaving.” I should go out. I should say something. I married her, took her goddam- chastity. She bled. I’d had the sheets changed because I couldn’t stand seeing the aftermath of the crime I’d committed. I married a woman because I wanted to hurt her sister. Anger drove me to this—that and cold manipulation.
I knew how Emilia felt about me. Bianca had mentioned it. Maeve, Bianca’s mother made fun of Emilia about it. Even Gideon, usually quite somber, had once snapped at Emilia in front of everyone, telling her to stop making eyes at her sister’s man. My mother who usually wouldn’t allow any woman to be disrespected hadn’t been amused though, she’d asked Gideon to stop making his daughter uncomfortable. My parents co-chaired the Archer Galleries board. They were the power center of our family business and Gideon knew not to f-ck with them. He’d made it sound like he’d been joking but we all knew he wasn’t. Emilia had been mortified. And, what did I do? Nothing, I’m ashamed to say. I did nothing. Just ignored the whole family drama as I did all others.
Maeve and Bianca were proficient Drama Queens. They worked together and were constantly at each other’s throats even though they were as close as friends. “Fine, Emilia. I’ll see you tomorrow.” I couldn’t face her. I just couldn’t do it. I needed a minute to get my bearings. What I’d done to this woman was horrible and I didn’t have the courage to see her understanding smile. This morning, she smiled at me like I wasn’t a monster. It made me angry and I took my self-loathing out on her. I had no business doing that. This wasn’t Emilia’s fault. It was mine…and maybe Bianca’s. No, not Bianca’s. She did f-ck all. This was all on me. “Okay. Bye, Damian.” She sounded so young. So uncertain. It broke something inside me, and I had this crazy desire to walk out and give her a hug. Who did I think I was to use her like this? What was I supposed to do now?