Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 90511 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90511 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Or I can accept that now she’s in control.
Fucking hell.
“Are you sure about that, wife?” I ask, my voice low and charged with emotion. “Think hard about it.”
“I’ve been thinking for three days.” She’s showing teeth. She knows damn well the victory she just stole from me. “And that’s my rule. You can never, ever touch me without me explicitly asking.” She steps forward, coming closer. I’m forced to move back with a soft snarl. “That’s why I can sleep in your bed. That’s why I can move into your room. That’s why I can shower in your bathroom without ever worrying you’ll break down the door and come ravish my wet, soapy, naked body.” She’s grinning savagely, fully aware of what she’s doing to me, still coming forward. I’m forced away and away until my back hits the dresser. A dozen little wounds and aches flare up, and I struggle to keep the pain from my face. “Think that’s doable, husband? Or are you just a big liar?”
I set my jaw. I stare at my clever, beautiful little wife. And I hate her, just a little bit, but also worship the fucking ground she walks on.
“You’ll break before I do,” I whisper, a dark promise.
Her eyes flash, and I swear she likes the challenge. “We’ll see about that.” She reaches out a hand. For a second, I think about letting her touch my cheek, catching her wrist, lightly biting a finger before dragging her against me and devouring her mouth with mine.
But I’d need an invitation first.
I pull away and slip back toward the door.
She laughs at my retreat, and fucking hell, I wish I never made this deal with her to begin with.
Though the spanking was very good.
“Good luck with unpacking all of this. I’ll be in my office.”
“No worries. I won’t need your help.”
“Wasn’t offering.”
“My personal assistant should be here soon.”
“Your personal—” I take a sharp breath and slowly blow it out. Of course she has a personal assistant. Goddamn rich girl. “I’ll see you tonight, love.”
Her smirk falters, ever so slightly, and I’m grinning to myself as I walk away.
She won that battle. No doubt in my mind. This rule of hers is going to be hell, and she’s going to use it like a sledgehammer against me.
But I’m going to win the war when she’s down on her knees pleading for me to fuck her ruthlessly.
Just a matter of time.
Chapter 15
Charlie
“If you’re not careful, I’m going to start relying on you.”
I lean back against the kitchen counter and take a long sip of tea. Emily smiles shyly, pulling more cups from a cardboard box. “I haven’t really done much.”
“I’m pretty sure I’d still be at home staring at my room if it weren’t for you.”
“I was just the spark you needed to get moving.” Emily shrugs a little, cheeks pink as she finds room in one of the cabinets. “He doesn’t have much around here, does he?”
I stare around the beautiful house. At a glance, it looks like he takes great pride in it. The decorations are expensive and tasteful. His furniture is all top quality, not something he had to put together himself. Even his cups and glasses are from a designer boutique.
But there’s dust on the end tables. The TV isn’t even plugged into the wall. The refrigerator is essentially empty, except for some creamer and a bottle of vodka in the freezer.
“Gorgeous but empty.” I raise my eyebrows and add softly to myself, “A lot like my husband himself.”
Emily pretends not to have heard me and keeps herself busy. I drink my tea slowly, taking a short break. I offered to pour her some, but she refused on the grounds that she’s working. Which is technically true, and even though I tried to explain that I’m not my grandfather and she can act like a normal human around me, she still wanted to keep at it. “Sooner started, sooner finished,” she chirps, fluttering around like a busy bird.
“Another saying from your mother?”
“She’s full of wisdom, that old lady.”
I finish my drink and put the mug in the dishwasher. My fingers brush over the granite countertop. Gorgeous but empty. Is that really Stefano? From what I’ve seen of him so far, all he cares about is fighting, fucking, and doing business. That’s not such a surprise, given the whole mafia thing.
But there’s a glimmer of something underneath that brutal exterior.
“Can I ask you something?” Emily says, breaking down the now-empty box. She stacks it in the pile with the others. If she weren’t around, I’d be tossing the empties, still completely formed, straight into the backyard. Sometimes I’m very aware of my privilege. Maybe Stefano’s right to call me rich girl.
“Sure, go ahead.”
She clears her throat, absently fiddling with the box. “Well, I know this whole marriage thing is very new to you, and you don’t know your husband very well, and that must be really difficult, trying to make this place feel like your home.” She refuses to look at me.