“The building is called Black Thorn Manor. It was once a slaughterhouse, so the decor is fitting.”
My heart skips a beat as I wonder what his family was slaughtering.
“I brought you there because I wanted to get away from the usual places people would look for us. So that we might have some privacy.”
“Privacy from my own mother?”
“Her, most of all.”
“Our contract promised?—”
“That she’d be sheltered in my home. And she is. Just not the one you’re in. And before you ask, the answer is no.”
There’s no point in fighting him. He owns my life.
“When will I get to see her again?”
“When it suits me. Now tell me, wife, how have you been filling your days?”
I could say something meek and submissive, telling him how I dream of starting a family. But something tells me Mateo responds better to blunt jabs.
“Reading, playing solitaire, and dreaming about shoving a fork in your assistant’s eye.”
“Ah, a life of leisure, as many women yearn for.”
I snort. “A life of boredom is more like it.”
“And what would you do with your time if you could fill it any way you choose? Aside from assaulting my innocent assistant.”
“Your assistant is hardly innocent!”
“Do I sense a hint of jealousy in your tone?”
“No—of course not!”
“Well, fear not, my dear wife, for as pretty as my assistant is, she hardly holds a candle to the woman she now serves.”
“Serves? Is that what you call it when she pokes me each morning and brings me my meals?”
“What else would you call it?”
“Lording power over me.”
“I’ll admit that she probably doesn’t love her new role, but she’s one of the few people I trust for the job.”
Unable to stop myself, I ask, “So, what exactly was her old role?”
Mateo smirks. “She’s always been my assistant.”
My brow lifts. “Nothing more.”
“Nothing of importance.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, dear husband, because women are petty as fuck and I’m bearing the brunt of her scorn.”
His eyes flicker with amusement, and I realize I’ve been baited into a trap. His vanity demands I be jealous and fight for him, and perhaps I should, but I can’t bring myself to do it.
“Gardening,” I finally say between bites of food.
