"That's my girl."
He leans down and kisses me, and I get lost in him until I’m forced to come up for air.
"Dinner," he murmurs against my lips. "Then we celebrate. You have a new client list. And we have a lot to toast to. With sparkling cider of course." He grins and it’s so uncharacteristic, I’m stunned silent for a second.
God, he’s so beautiful.
He pulls back and picks up the folder of signed documents. "I'll just put this in the safe," he says.
I watch him walk toward his office.
The paperwork is signed. My business is pivoting. My life is being rebuilt brick by brick.
But watching him disappear into the hallway, I think this revenge plan of mine has backfired on me because now it’s about so much more.
The thingabout ownership is that it’s absolute.
It isn’t a feeling. It’s a fact. It’s ink on paper and a stamp from the county clerk’s office confirming that as of an hour ago, the second the office opened, the woman sleeping in my bed became someone new.
She’s no longer Blair Ashby.
She’s Blair Hollis now.
She just doesn't have a fucking clue yet.
I stand at the foot of the bed watching her sleep. She’s napping in the glow of the Christmas tree, sprawled on her stomach, one leg kicked out from under the heavy duvet, dark hair fanned across the pillow where my head rested hours ago.
She looks peaceful. Unsuspecting.
The email from Cohen hit my phone ten minutes ago.Filing complete. Certified copies are at my office.
A sick, twisted sense of relief settles in my chest. I know exactly what I did. I tricked her. I buried a marriage license in a stack of insurance forms and played on her trust to get a signature.
Call it what you want—manipulation. Coercion. Fraud.
I don't give a fuck.
Giving her a choice meant risking a "no." It meant risking her pride or her trauma or that little voice in her head winning out and telling her to run. That wasn't a risk I was willing to take. Walking out that door and disappearing into the world where I can't protect and keep her isn't an option for her anymore.
So I took the choice away.
Now, laws bind her to me. If she tries to run, the law is on my side. If she tries to push away, I have a piece of paper that says she belongs right here.
Eventually, I slip the massive ring I had made for her onto her finger and she’ll never take it off again.
But the marriage isn't the only trap I’ve set.
My phone screen glows as I check my calendar. She’s late.
My thumb hovers over the red notification. She hasn't noticed that, either. I’ve been keeping her distracted on top of the way she’s been rebuilding the career my son destroyed and navigating the new life I forced on her. It’s all been a lot, taking up all her bandwidth.
But I noticed.
I’ve been filling her with my cum every chance I get, ensuring she stays full of me at all times.
I haven’t made it a secret what I want. Fuck, she even takes the prenatal vitamins I set out for her every day.
Dark, primal satisfaction curls in my gut.
