Dangerous Games

Rating: M

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the X Men characters that make an appearance in this fic.

A/N: No powers in this one. You might see some characters make random appearances throughout. Keep a look out at the top of each section within the chapter. I feel like the story will be more interesting I have the freedom to let you see it from first and third person perspectives.

Marie's POV- 1st Person

Here I sit, in front of the ornate vanity, combing my hair in mine and Victor's large, overly dramatic bedroom. I smile as I suddenly felt his hand brush the hair off of my neck, "You look gorgeous, doll."

I look at his reflection as he towers over me in the mirror, his large hand traveling down into the robe to cup my breast, "Thanks...what are you dressed for? It's almost midnight."

"Got some business to attend to, baby. Don't wait up..."

I sucked my teeth and moved from beneath his hands as I stood up and stomped across the room to our expansive walk-in closet. He's always leaving for "business" in the middle of the night. He won't tell me what it's about or who he's with...I'm just supposed to smile and paste on a grin while he runs out and does god knows what with who knows what.

"Marie. Don't gimme shit...not tonight."

A grumble escapes my throat as I opened the jewelry drawer and begin removing my large sapphire earrings that he gave me to for my last birthday, "I'm not giving you shit."

He appeared in the doorway and leaned in, "Don't forget that you have all this stuff because I fuckin' go out at midnight and don't get home til morning."

I throw my hands up, "Lest we forget! Your highness..."

The fact that his mysterious business dealings are the reason why I'm able to sit in a lavish mansion all by myself, waiting for a husband who can't stop sticking it in every female who crosses his path, is always thrown in my face. His money is something he reminds me of constantly and it annoys the ever loving shit out of me.

"Don't do that..."

I shoot him a glare and remove my bracelet, "Do what?"

"You know what...be a smart ass. You know that fuckin' drives me insane."

I slam the drawer shut and decide to ignore his presence, knowing that would piss him off even further.

"So now you're just not gonna talk to me? Is that it? You're gonna ignore your own husband like he's fuckin' invisible?"

I move around the closet without even looking in his direction. By the time I try to brush past him, he was nearly trembling in anger.

Victor suddenly grabs me by the waist and violently yanks me close, "You think you can ignore me? I have to fuckin' teach you this lesson every time..."

He quickly spins me around and marches me to the bed where he throws me down face first and yanks up my silken bathrobe, pushing the fabric over my bare ass.

I put up the same fight I've put up hundreds of times, but don't bother to break a sweat because I know he'll win anyways, "Vic! Stop it!"

Victor grabs my arms and forces them behind my back as if he's about to put some cuffs on. He gathers my wrists in one of his large hands and opens his pants with the other, freeing his erection. He grins sinisterly as he runs a hand up my pussy before sticking his finger inside, immediately causing me to slow my struggling and moan obligingly as he strokes my g spot.

He quickly withdraws his finger and replaces it with his rock hard member, making me cry out in pleasure. At that moment, I hate myself for allowing the physical pleasure to cloud my judgement of right and wrong.

I hate myself for not being stronger.

As usual, he fucked me hard, fast and without much consideration for my needs. Though he always felt good inside of me, once we got married, sometimes, he just stopped making the effort or taking the time to bring me to a climax.

This was one of those times. He cried out in orgasm a mere three minutes after entering me, thrusting roughly and erratically into me as the last strands of semen spurted inside of me.

He collapsed on top of me, feeling heavy and reeking of that expensive cologne he uses too much of. I feel his hot breath on my ear as he lays there, crushing me under his weight and panting heavily for a few moments. It's a welcome relief when he finally pulls from me.

He slaps my ass, redresses and leaves after tossing a casual "Don't wait up, doll" my way.

I stayed there, bent over the edge of my overly expensive bed with my $400 silk robe bunched up over my ass, wearing my 4 carat Tiffany platinum and diamond wedding rings. Despite all that, I felt like nothing more than a common whore.

As I made my way to the shower and stood under the warm spray, I remembered the circumstances surrounding how I ended up here...the trophy wife of a hot tempered, perpetually unfaithful mob boss with a jealous streak the size of Texas.

Once upon a time, I was smart. I had ambition and I was full of promise. Of course, it's hard to sympathize with a woman who lives in a multimillion dollar mansion and has a collection of designer clothing and shoes that even the women of Sex and the City would be jealous of...but I'm lacking true happiness.

If anyone can tell you that money can't buy happiness, it's me.

Just three years ago, I lived in a ratty apartment and worked as a waitress while attending college full time.

Then I met Victor...or "Vic" as his friends called him. He was handsome, charismatic, charming and persistent as hell.

I waited on him at the restaurant and he flirted shamelessly, but I kept it professional. At the end of the night, he favored me with a generous tip and his phone number scribbled on a piece of paper. I threw the paper out and used the tip to pay for a book for my Women and Gender Studies course.

A week later, he returned to the restaurant while my section was chocked full of an after-opera crowd of snobby businessmen and their wine drenched wives. It would have been an understatement to say I was a little busy.

He followed me around, doing his best to convince me that I should give him a shot. I was so busy, he ended up actually taking some of the plates from my hand to help me deliver them to my tables.

That won me over, so I agreed to a date.

He picked me up in a limo and gifted me with a dozen long stemmed roses, then wined and dined me at a restaurant that was so fancy, I wouldn't have been comfortable even walking in front of it in casual clothes.

I was impressed, and he was the perfect gentleman...so I agreed to another date. That time, he took me to one of the hottest clubs in the city...which he happened to own. We were VIPs and got into the club ahead of a long line of potential patrons who'd been waiting in the cold for a chance to spot a celebrity and drink fifteen dollar drinks.

We headed straight for a VIP booth, where Victor introduced me to a few of his friends, who I spent the whole night dazzling with my brilliant sense of humor.

At the end of the night, Victor found some brilliant reason to take me back to his place, but I played hard to get and ended up slipping from beneath his roaming hands to take a cab home.

He called me four times the next day.

I later figured out it was because he wasn't used to women saying "no" to him...I guess I intrigued him.

Two dates turned to four, four turned to eight and eight turned to sixteen. I managed to make it four months before having sex with him. Our first time was at his place, after a candle lit dinner.

Two months after that, he proposed. I happily and dumbly accepted.

I just wanted to have a small, understated wedding attended by only family and friends. Vic refused that idea and insisted on a circus of a wedding in which the who's who of the New York social scene was invited and the size of the guest list would rival that of a minor league baseball game crowd.

Despite the fact that the huge wedding was his idea, he refused to lift a finger to help plan it. I had a professional wedding planner following me around everywhere I went, but all decisions HAD to go through me...so grades started to slip. When I complained about it, Vic suggested...(more like demanded)...I quit school and just concentrate on "us".

After not quite enough thinking on my part, I agreed and quit school with only three semesters remaining before I earned my degree in Psychology.

I'll admit, getting married to Victor was a huge deal. Our engagement announcement ended up on page 6 and dammit, I hated the way it read...

New York real estate magnate and popular club owner Victor Creed, 39, is set to marry his 20 year old girlfriend, Anna Marie D'Ancanto, this October. The two met while D'Ancanto was working as a waitress at Saffron's Bistro in midtown. The couple was recently spotted in the Hamptons where Creed owns a beach home and where many believe the wedding is scheduled to take place.

Aside from the fact that, yes, all of New York knew where my super secret, exclusive wedding was to take place...I hated that our age differences just had to be pointed out. I also hated that I was nothing more than a pretty little 20 year old waitress who was lucky enough to land a rich, older man.

Go me.

About two weeks before the wedding, a man who Victor had a very dirty, very public dispute with was killed in a violent home invasion.

I thought nothing of it...until the police arrived at our door to question my future husband.

In retrospect, I should have run right then...but when the police left, I decided to gently prod...

He sat on the bed, untying his tie as I climbed onto the bed behind him and began massaging his tense shoulders. I kissed his neck, "What was all that about, baby?"

"Not much...just asking about Ronny."

I stopped massaging him, "But...why would they need to talk to you about that?"

He patted my hands and turned to give me a quick kiss on the lips, "They always ask around like that. Don't worry about it, doll."

I watched as he got up and undressed before going into the shower. I followed him, opened the shower door and looked him square in the eye, "Vic...did you have something to do with Ronny's death?"

He calmly reached out, took the shower door and pulled it out of my hand before he looked back into my eyes, "Don't ask me about my business, Marie...ever"

And that was it.

I convinced myself that there was nothing to be concerned about in our lives. I convinced myself that we were a normal, extremely rich, couple. It's normal for a house to have a state-of-the-art security system complete with cameras, trained dobermans and 24 hour armed guards...right?

The wedding was large and lavish, full of pomp and circumstance, thanks to Victor. Immediately after our honeymoon, Victor began to change. I decided that I wanted to go back to school and finish up my last year and a half, but he refused to allow it.

His suspicious business dealings began to worry me, especially with so many men loitering around the house looking like stereotypical mafia drones. It seemed off...almost like a mob movie.

A few months into our marriage, I found an empty condom wrapper in the pants he left strewn on our closet floor. I was livid when I confronted him, calling him names and throwing objects.

He rushed over and grabbed my arms, pinning them to my sides as I screamed obscenities at him and cried out in anger and pain. When I collapsed against him in tears, he hugged me close and told me how much he loved me and how other women didn't mean anything.

Victor stripped me down and fucked me into submission that night, effectively ridding me of the desire to leave him. He reminded me of all the pretty things I had because of him and bought me an expensive piece of jewelry the next day.

We do that at least once a week now...fight, fuck and forget...or at least, he forgets...I drink dirty martinis.

I thought of having my own little affair just to teach him a lesson, but I was convinced that Vic would kill the unlucky bastard I chose to help me carry out my vengeance. I couldn't have that on my head.

Even though Victor is a completely fine specimen of a man, he's well aware that he's nearly 20 years older than me and he'll be the first to admit that I'm a knockout...which is why he gets insanely jealous and territorial if other men so much as look at me.

Sadly enough, I felt lucky that his extramarital activities were just one night stands with fast and lose women he met at random clubs and bars. Most of the other wives in our circle were having to compete with full time mistresses who their husbands showered with affection, time and money.

3rd Person POV

The cab dropped him off in front of a large, ornate gate at the end of a long, cobblestone driveway. He stubbed out his cigar on the ground and shoved the remaining portion in his pocket as he slung his large bag over his shoulder. He walked over to the intercom to press the button. It buzzed and a voice came through, "State your name and business."

"Logan Howlett...Vic is expecting me."

There was a quick pause before the disembodied voice came through again, "Come right in."

Logan heard a buzz just before the large gates slowly swung open. As he walked up the long driveway, he passed by a slew of luxury cars. A Mercedes, a BMW and a Porsche Cayenne with the license plate "MARIE 1" were lined up along the front of the house.

He felt out of place here...then again, he always felt out of place in Victor's world.

Logan and Victor grew up together in the same foster home with the same, abusive foster dad. They ran away together, became juvenile delinquents together and survived together. When they reached adulthood, it was Victor's ability to mix with certain crowds that made him successful. Some dirty work here, an under-the-table loan there, and before he knew it, his older "brother" was the manager at one of the hottest clubs in town. Just a couple of years later, the club's owner, Sam, died in a "car accident" that Victor mysteriously witnessed. He never felt right about all the dirty work Vic seemed so comfortable with, but guys who come from the same background as them have to do some pretty sketchy things to get ahead in life.

A couple of Sam's cronies attacked Victor at the club after hours. They beat him up pretty bad, but just when they were about to toss him in the trunk of their car to drive him to an undisclosed location and "finish the job", Logan showed up and started fighting them off. Victor was able to injure one of the men with a knife he had stashed in his boot, effectively scaring him away while Logan fought the other guy. He soon got the upper hand and threw him to the ground, punching him in the face one good time and making his head violently snap backwards against the pavement.

Logan immediately knew something was wrong when the man's body went completely limp beneath him. He killed him...it was an accident. He never meant to. He never even wanted to really hurt him. He was just trying to protect his brother...but he ended up killing a man with his bare hands.

Victor tried to get him to run, but Logan refused and told Victor to make his own getaway. Logan stayed behind, called the cops and confessed to involuntary manslaughter. He took a plea deal and spent four years in prison. Victor kept in contact and visited throughout his time there. Logan knew he got married to some 20 year old waitress from the south. He remembered trying to talk Vic out of it when he called to tell him about her...but once Victor's mind was made up about something, he was going to see it through.

A week before he was released, Victor called to tell him he'd have a job lined up and a place to stay when he got out if he wanted it...so here he was. An ex con at a multimillion dollar mansion mere hours after release.

He rang the doorbell and was greeted by a short maid, dressed in a black and white uniform. Victor came rushing down the large, curved stairwell with his arms open and outstretched, "Look what the fuckin' cat dragged in!"

Logan smiled as he was engulfed with a rough bear hug and slapped on the back, "Sup Vic? You look like shit."

Victor smirked, "And you're an asshole, but who's takin' notes, huh? How you doin'?"

"Well, I just got out of jail...so I'm doin' just peachy. This place is a little...over the top."

Victor slapped Logan in the chest with the back of his hand, "Hey. Go big or go home!"

"So, where's the ball and chain you were tellin' me about?"

"Oh right! I almost forgot you haven't met Marie...MARIE! GET YOUR SEXY ASS IN HERE, I GOT SOMEONE FOR YOU TO MEET!" he yelled toward the second level of the house. Victor turned back to Logan, "She wasn't exactly thrilled when I told her you'd be comin' to stay with us. She's kind of a piece of work, but she's sexy as hell-ah, here she is."

Logan looked up just in time to see her descending the stairs. He had to keep his mouth from dropping open. Either he'd been in jail for far too long, or his brother's new wife was the sexiest woman he'd ever laid eyes on. She was wearing a white bikini beneath a sheer swimsuit cover up with slits up her thighs and a deep v neck that exposed her bra and the upper part of her stomach.

Her voice broke him out of his reverie, "I wish you wouldn't yell like that, Victor. It makes you sound like a damn-" Marie's voice trailed off as she took in all six foot two inches of hulking man that stood before her. Yeah, Victor was hot, but this guy was built like an adonis and had a wildness in his eyes that drew her in. She quickly recovered and cleared her throat, "Who's this?"

Victor put an arm around her, "This is my brother, Logan."

Marie's eyebrows shot skyward, "Oh...You're Logan." She wasn't at all happy that her husband had invited a fresh out of jail, ex-con to stay with them...especially one who was convicted of murder...manslaughter...whatever. She put her hands on her hips and cocked her head to the side, "You don't look that much like a murderer."

Victor suddenly tightened his grip and jerked her slightly as if the warn her to shut her mouth.

Logan crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes, "...And you don't look that much like a gold digging waitress."

Victor tried to muffle his chuckle as Marie crossed her arms and glared at Logan, "Pretty quick witted for a guy who just reentered society...just so you know, it's OK if your soap isn't on a rope here."

Logan chuckled as he watched her stomp off in her high heeled shoes. He turned back to Victor and shrugged a little, "Sorry...it's a reflex."

His brother waved him off and put a hand on his back as he led him to the back of the house, "Don't worry about it. Don't dish it out if you can't take it, right? I got you set up in the guest house out back. Go get settled and shower, cause tonight...we're gettin' you the one thing a man just coming out of prison sentence needs..."

"A hot meal that excludes fingernails and hair?"

Victor laughed and slapped Logan's back as the walked past his pool, "Heh...right...I'm hoping you're joking because I plan on making sure you get laid tonight, brother."

Logan got a far off look in his eyes as he envisioned the sexy, yet already frustrating Marie.

Tell me what you think of the different POVs being used in this. Do you prefer the first person POV or the 3rd person, omnipresent POV? Let me know! Please review!