Dirty Wife Games Read online

  DIRTY WIFE GAMES

  By Clarissa Wild

  DIRTY WIFE GAMES © 2017 Clarissa Wild

  Cover art by Clarissa Wild’s Booming Covers

  Copy Editing by Editing4Indies

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, places, organizations, or person, whether living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All characters in this book are eighteen years of age or older.

  License Notes

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to the retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  More books by Clarissa Wild

  Standalones

  Mr. X

  Twenty-One (21)

  Ultimate Sin

  Viktor

  Dark Romance

  Delirious Series

  Stalker & Killer (prequel to Stalker)

  Wicked Bride Games

  New Adult Romance

  Fierce Series

  Blissful Series

  Ruin

  Erotic Romance

  The Billionaire’s Bet Series

  Enflamed Series

  Bad Teacher

  Visit Clarissa Wild on Kobo for current titles.

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  Table of Contents

  About Dirty Wife Games

  Music Playlist

  Prologue

  1.

  2.

  3.

  4.

  5.

  6.

  7.

  8.

  9.

  10.

  11.

  12.

  13.

  14.

  15.

  16.

  17.

  18.

  19.

  20.

  21.

  22.

  23.

  24.

  25.

  26.

  Epilogue

  Excerpt of Wicked Bride Games

  More books by Clarissa Wild

  About Clarissa Wild

  About Dirty Wife Games

  * This is a Standalone novel *

  A scorned wife on the run, and a stalker who follows her every move …

  Match made in heaven?

  After being forced to marry a tyrant, Hyun Song flees his home in a desperate attempt to save what’s left of her dignity … and her life.

  Now on her own, she tries her best to move on with her simple life. But she quickly realizes she can’t escape her past … and that she’s not alone …

  He watches her through her window.

  Sends her indecent notes.

  Stalks her everywhere she goes.

  He wants her badly, and when she finally lets him in …

  It’s time for the wife to play a dirty game.

  Author’s note: This story contains sensitive content that may be upsetting to some readers.

  Music Playlist

  This book was heavily inspired by music and was never written without a song present. If you’d like to experience this novel as intended, please listen to the following playlist:

  “Logos” by Ludovico Einaudi

  “Violent Delights Have Violent Ends” by Ramin Djawadi

  “Hungry Like The Wolf” by Snow Hill

  “Technically, Missing” by Trent Reznor & Atticus Ross

  “What Have We Done To Each Other” by Trent Reznor & Atticus Ross

  “A Reflection” by Trent Reznor & Atticus Ross

  “Daydream” by Ruelle

  “Game of Survival” by Ruelle

  “Obsession” by Golden State (Animotion Cover)

  “Last Stand” by Kwabs

  “Papi Pacify” by FKA Twigs

  “Burning Desire” by Lana Del Rey

  “I Started A Joke” by ConfidentialMX ft. Becky Hanson

  “My Body” by Perfume Genius

  “Come Say Hello” by Superhumanoids

  “Are We Having A Party” by Cliff Martinez

  “Ritual Spirit” by Massive Attack & Azekel

  Prologue

  Accompanying Song: “What Have We Done To Each Other” by Trent Reznor & Atticus

  Drake

  On a cloudy day, the sun bursts through the sky, blinding me, and it was at that moment of squinting as I held my hand above my eyes that I first laid eyes on her.

  A young girl with hair as black as soot, dancing in the park and waving her hands, with a smile so pretty it could stop hearts. Her face one I would remember for the rest of my life.

  She was frail and thin, just like I was. We were kids, playing in the park, just like everyone else. But this was no normal encounter. Not to me.

  On my little bike, I drove in circles, gawking at her, always trying to catch her attention, but she never looked my way.

  The only thing she could focus on was showing her parents a new trick she’d learned. Jumping rope twice in a row. Playing hopscotch while covering her eyes. A new dance.

  Every week, she came here. Sometimes, it was on different days.

  And because she was here, so was I.

  You see, a boy always knows exactly when he’s met the girl he’s meant to be with.

  She was that girl.

  She didn’t know I wanted to get to know her.

  That I even existed.

  But even at such a young age, I knew … deep down in my heart … that she would be mine. One day.

  If I could muster the courage to approach her.

  Only if.

  Because I wasn’t a courageous little boy. On the contrary, I was a bumbling, shy, and quiet boy, who always sat in the back of the class, daydreaming of another life. Busy with the stories I was penning down on the pages of my notebook.

  I wasn’t the kid to walk up to a girl and ask her to play with me.

  No, I was the kid who silently watched her from afar … admiring her beauty. Her will. Her devotion toward her parents and her ability to keep the hope alive that they one day might care.

  Because her parents never seemed happy.

  They never laughed or smiled when she did her special thing.

  They never talked to her, other than to tell her no.

  They never even acknowledged her, except for when it was time to go.

  And honestly, it surprised me they even came to the park that often. I guess keeping up appearances was that important to them.

  I should’ve known that before it was too late.

  Before I realized that one day was going to be the last day she’d come to the park; the day she was sent to boarding school. Before I knew I may never see her again.

  But I did know one thing …

  I would never give up finding her.

  Even if it took me a lifetime.

  Part I

  The Encounter

  1.

  Accompanying Song: “Violent Delights Have Violent Ends” by Ramin Djawadi

  Hyun

  From the moment I first saw my stalker, I was captivated.

  The man with the black leather jacket and dark, spiky hair sits on a bench across the street from my house, staring down at a notebook.

&nb
sp; Every night, he sits there at exactly ten p.m., looking off into the distance or writing his notes under the street light … or looking straight at me.

  Like he is now.

  Our eyes meet, and a sudden electrical current rushes through my veins.

  I’m unable to look away from his piercing blue eyes, and I wonder … How long ago did he first see me?

  I’ve only noticed him outside recently … watching over my house as if he’s guarding it. Guarding me.

  I don’t know if I should be scared. If I should run or call the cops.

  He’s never come close.

  So is there any reason to act?

  As long as he maintains his distance … an invisible line he doesn’t cross … I still feel safe. I can survive, knowing he is there, wherever I go.

  I never know when or where I’m going to see him again.

  I just know I will.

  A hampered breath leaves my throat as he stares me down from across the street. His gaze feels like it penetrates through the closed windows. And for a brief second, I think I spot a hint of a smile.

  ***

  The next morning

  I wake to the sound of people talking on the radio. It’s my clock, which I’ve set to nine a.m. Not because I have to work. Not today. No, it’s because I like my routine, and the stability it gives me. Time is the only constant in this world, and it follows me wherever I go. The only thing I can control—how much time I spend on certain tasks and when I choose to do something. Time is the only one thing I can trust to be truthful.

  I press the button and turn off the radio then push away the blanket and sit up straight. I grab my birth control pill and take one along with some water. I put my socks on, yawning. Stumbling through my room, I grab a pair of jeans and a blouse from my closet and put them on. Then I head to my window, open the curtains, and stare outside. The sun blinds me for a moment, but as my eyes adjust and gaze at the bench across my house, I breathe a sigh of relief.

  Empty, just like always.

  My heart calms as I go into the kitchen to make myself a cup of coffee and prepare some toast. I eat with the television turned on; the noise of the people talking makes me feel more comfortable. Being home alone isn’t the greatest thing in the world … not when you’ve been living in silence for more than a month.

  It’s not normal, I know that. Normal people find company. They make friends. They invite people into their home and have dinners and parties.

  Not me.

  I’m the girl who mistrusts every living person on this planet.

  It wasn’t always this way, though … but like all people, my past shaped me into the person I am today.

  I’d rather be alone, hiding in plain sight. It’s the only way to remain safe.

  I finish my breakfast and put my dishes in the sink then grab my keys and wallet and walk out the door.

  However, I don’t move an inch when I notice what’s on my front porch.

  A small stone … and underneath it is a piece of paper just big enough to fit in my hand.

  I bend over and reach for it, pushing the rock aside as I wonder if this note was meant for me or for someone else. But then I read the words … and realize this couldn’t be for anyone else.

  I saw you watching me.

  Goose bumps scatter on my skin. I feel unsettled.

  It’s not a handwritten note … it’s typed. Someone put effort into giving me this message.

  My fingers tremble as I hold the note. I look ahead at the street, left and right, but no one’s there. I’m all alone with this note that gives me a pang in my stomach.

  As I take a deep breath, I crumple it up in my fist and stuff it into my jacket. Then I go on with my day.

  ***

  Accompanying Song: “What Have We Done To Each Other” by Trent Reznor & Atticus Ross

  A few hours later

  With my cart filled with groceries, I make my way to the parking lot of the shopping center. I’ve been holding off on going outside to get some food for quite some time now, but when the fridge is empty, you have to get something to eat. I had no choice but to go, so now, I have a cart filled to the top with everything I need in the hopes I won’t have to return for quite some time.

  I quickly push it to my car and unlock it, opening up the back so I can load everything in. But when I look through the windshield of my car, a man standing on the sidewalk across the street stares back at me.

  I squeal and drop the bottles of ketchup and mustard, along with the bag of buns and sausages I was holding.

  “Do you need help?”

  A voice behind me forces me to turn around.

  It’s a woman in her mid-forties, smiling awkwardly at me. Befuddled, I stare at her for a few seconds before regaining my composure. “No, no, I’m fine.”

  I quickly go to my knees to pick up the items I dropped.

  “You sure?” She tries to reach for my stuff, at which point I snap.

  “Don’t,” I say, leaning away.

  She frowns and takes a step back.

  “I … It’s fine. I’m fine. Don’t worry about it.” I give her a tentative smile, after which she nods a few times and leaves.

  When she’s gone, I sigh and turn around.

  The man is gone. He’s no longer on the sidewalk or anywhere else for that matter.

  Maybe I never really saw him in the first place.

  Maybe I’m losing my mind.

  I hastily throw the rest of my purchases into the back of my car and slam the door shut, pushing the cart out of the way. Then I run over to the driver’s side to jump in and close my door. I don’t even bother to bring the cart back to the store … or properly put on a seat belt. All I can think about is getting the hell out of here.

  But as I put the keys into the ignition and start the car, a voice screams in my mind.

  Tells me to stop and look.

  Tells me I’m no good.

  “What the hell are you doing with the gas pedal?” Greg spits. “I told you to push it, not to ram it with your foot!”

  “I’m trying …” I mutter.

  “Not good enough!” He snatches my hand from the steering wheel. “Get your hands off there, you stupid ho.”

  The names he calls me fly in one ear and go out through the other, just like they always do.

  I don’t pay much attention to them anymore because I’ve heard them so many times before. I withstand them because I have no choice or say in the matter. His will is law.

  “Get out,” he yells, pushing me. “Just get out.”

  I quickly pull the lever on the door and step out before he smacks me again.

  He walks around the car, still berating me. “I knew I should’ve never let you learn how to drive. Look at what you almost did.”

  “I didn’t—”

  “You could’ve killed us!” He’s right in front of me, and whenever he speaks, he spits on my face. “You can’t fucking drive!”

  “We’re in a parking lot …”

  “And even there you manage to damage my car!” He pushes me aside and jerks open the door to the driver’s seat. But before he sits down, he yells at me again. “Get in the damn car!”

  I hasten to the other side and slide into the passenger’s seat quietly, trying not to produce too much sound. I don’t even dare to say a word. I don’t want to give him more reasons to yell. Or worse.

  “Can’t let a woman do a man’s job,” he huffs, turning the key in the ignition. “I’ll show you how it’s done.” He looks at me as he puts the gear into reverse and hits the gas. “This is how you drive.”

  I brush away the sweat drops rolling down the back of my neck, and I take a deep breath, letting it all out. Then I shake my head, put the gear in reverse, and drive out of the parking lot. Like I should’ve done all along.

  2.

  Hyun

  Accompanying Song: “Violent Delights Have Violent Ends”
by Ramin Djawadi

  A few days later

  I’ve always kept to myself. Not because I’m shy, but because people have always disappointed me. Whether they were my friends, my family … or even my parents—all they did was use me for their own benefit. Give me something good and then take it back again.

  No one loved me unconditionally. Not even my parents. So I’ve come to associate people with lies and manipulation … and maybe I’ve even started to believe I should take part in this dirty game myself.

  One year ago, my parents convinced me to meet with a wealthy bank manager, the son of the CEO, because he’d approached them about his interest in me. I thought it was a joke, but when I met the man, Max Marino, I saw in his eyes that he was speaking the truth. He wanted me to take part in his wicked game.

  I should’ve said no.

  But my mind was already agreeing. Why? Because my parents wanted it so badly, and for some reason, I thought if I did this, they’d finally love me.

  Silly me.

  Of course, the game turned out to be much more than I could handle. Nine girls, all together with three brothers … and we were vying for their attention. Their love. With sex.

  It was sick.

  To this day, I still regret ever signing his contract.

  Luckily, I got out in time before …

  I sigh, not wanting to reminisce. The memories float back in my head every time I’m at this desk in the library, and I can’t help but think about it, but I know I shouldn’t. It’s not healthy to linger on the past.