It's giving runaway wives and we're here for it!

Chapter 3 No Preston. And now my monk-wannabe husband was actually coming home. Could this day get any worse? I stood outside the bedroom, checked my phone, watched seven figures drop into my account. Okay. I could do this. Plastered on a smile and walked in. "Baby, I missed you so much~" Damien looked like he'd stepped out of a Brooks Brothers catalog. Perfect suit, diamond cufflinks, designer glasses on that annoyingly perfect face. Committed to the bit, I'll give him that. He sat on the couch with a book, barely glancing up. "Shower. Now." That book looked familiar.

Pretty sure last month's guy had used it as a drink coaster. I grabbed a robe and headed for the bathroom, biting back about fifteen different insults. I'll admit-Damien was hot. Just as hot as the others. Maybe more. First time I'd really gotten a good look at him up close. Sharp jawline. Unfairly long lashes. The kind of face that could sell cologne or start wars. Almost a decent moment. Right up until he leaned over me and his wrists got caught in the handcuffs bolted to the headboard. I lost it. Straight-up laughed.

Damien went completely still, half-twisted, face turning an impressive shade of furious. "What the hell is this?" Oh, he had no idea what'd been happening in his own house. He pulled. The cuffs clicked tighter. I widened my eyes, all innocent. "You don't remember? You bought those." Beat. "Want me to unlock you?" I adjusted my robe, playing dumb. "You said you had a surprise for me. Guess this was it. How romantic." Damien's jaw could've cracked marble. 17.4% Wine And We're Here For It! His best friend. In his beach house. Had installed handcuffs. For his wife. And now he was locked in them.

"Looks like you're not in the mood tonight." I fought to keep a straight face, fake-sniffled, and headed for the door. "I'll take the guest room. Totally fine. I can sleep alone. No problem." "Wait." His voice came out strangled. "Help me." I didn't unlock him. Tossed him his phone instead. Almost didn't even do that, but if he somehow died and they blamed me, I'd lose my money. And nobody else deserves my money. I worked for this. Damien made a call through gritted teeth. Half an hour later, headlights swept through the driveway. I opened the door. Night breeze hit my skin.

Carter stood there, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else. Number six. Last night he'd promised to wreck me. Tonight he was here to rescue my husband from sex handcuffs. Bet that phone call was fun. I missed a step on the stairs. He caught me by the waist on instinct. "Easy, babe-" I raised an eyebrow. He dropped his hand like I'd burned him. "I mean-Mrs. Sinclair." Same guy who'd had his hands all over me twelve hours ago couldn't even hold eye contact now. That's gotta hurt. I let it slide. "You work at a hardware store or something?" "What?" I pushed open the bedroom door.

Damien was still stuck on the bed, wrists cuffed on either side of the headboard, chain rattling every time he moved. I pointed. "For stuff like that." (0) )(0) ⊙ Cedella Cedella is a passionate storyteller known for her bold romantic and spicy novels that keep readers hooked from the very first chapter. With a flair for crafting emotionally intense plots and unforgettable characters, she blends love, desire, and drama into every story she writes. Cedella's storytelling style is immersive and addictive-perfect for fans of heated romances and heart-pounding twists.