"Tell you what, for the next game, I'll let you have the groom's spot."

I frowned. That word, let, cut deeper than any insult.

Before I could agree or refuse, Noel was already reaching into the game box. He pulled out a slip of paper and read it aloud.

"The groom must kneel before the bride and bark like a dog ten times to demonstrate his absolute loyalty to his wife."

The others exchanged uneasy glances and began whispering among themselves.

"Didn't we agree not to put anything degrading in there? Who wrote this?"

"Not me."

"Me neither."

Noel shot them a reproachful look.

"What are you all going on about? You think it's degrading, but maybe Laurence here would consider it a reward."

"After all, a kept man like him, a pretty face living off a woman's money, loves groveling to keep his meal ticket happy." He let out a theatrical sigh. "Me, I could never. Too much self-respect."

He turned to me, a taunting grin spreading across his face.

"Laurence, didn't you want to play games with Lauren?"

"Then go ahead and bark. Who knows, maybe she'll be so pleased she'll toss you another twenty grand. Opportunity of a lifetime."

Lauren heard every word. She didn't react.

My gaze drifted past her to the crimson wedding quilt beneath her, the one I'd chosen with such care. I hadn't even sat on it yet.

But their kiss had already creased and rumpled it.

Tradition held that the newlyweds should be the first to sit on the wedding quilt, a symbol of a happy marriage.

Just days ago, I'd been looking forward to this night. I'd imagined Lauren and me sitting on that quilt together, planning a future full of promise.

Now there was no need for any of that.

I shoved Noel's arm away, cold and unhurried, and let a mocking smile settle on my lips.

"Mr. Cobb, you're too modest. The way you were flapping that tongue of yours just now, you've got any dog beat when it comes to licking. Doesn't look like you need the practice at all."

"You're so good at playing the lapdog. Why don't you bark a few times so I can learn from the best?"

I'd grown up surrounded by the works of master calligraphers and painters. I'd recognized Noel's handwriting on that slip of paper the moment I saw it.

Noel's face flushed crimson, his voice dripping with wounded innocence. "Ms. Sanchez, how could he humiliate me like this..."

A glass of red wine splashed over my head without warning.