And unlike any of them, I won’t force myself on her, either. Other than acting a fucking fool in my sleep, I can keep a leash on my lust. I’ve done it so far. Although, my research into all this wedding shit has taught me that non-consummation is a real legal reason for marriage annulment in Canada. We will have to have intercourse at least once. So that no legal avenue can be left to take her away from me. But I’ll prepare her for it. Hell, she can fucking tie me to a chair if she wants to, bind my hands, and just get the deed done herself. I don’t even have to touch her.
No matter how fucking much I might want to.
My mind lingers on that image. Aurora on top of me. Rocking her slender hips. Her perfect little tits bouncing as she works herself lower and lower onto my dick. Taking in a sharp breath, I snatch up my phone and add one more thing to Magdelena’s shopping list.
Condoms.
Chapter 16
Aurora
I wake in the morning to and empty bed and no cuff on my wrist. The clock on the bedside table tells me I’ve slept in. It’s after 10am. But despite that, I don’t feel rested. I feel wrung-out. Almost hungover, even though Curse was the one who drank last night. Not me.
Last night.
I press my hands over my eyes, but it doesn’t stop the scenes from replaying in my head. It doesn’t stop me from remembering that incredible high when Curse was touching me.
And the low of the betrayal afterwards.
Not that it could even be considered a betrayal. He told me from the very beginning that he was sent to come and get me. He never made this anything personal. Only I did. Only I can’t fucking let go.
Well, I’ve sure as hell let go now. I’ll never forget the ice in his eyes and the sneer on his lips when he told me about papà’s businesses all going to whoever manages to marry me next.
When I was a kid, back in Buffalo, I used to fantasize about marrying Curse all the time. I’d have a big, frothy dress and shoes made entirely out of diamonds. My hair would be done up in fancy curls that somehow managed to stay in place despite the pin-straight nature of my strands. Curse would wear a suit. We’d get married on a sunny beach somewhere. And then eat hundreds of wedding cupcakes. Lemon ones, of course.
It seems extra cruel, somehow, that I will end up married to a man named Curse.
Just not the one I wanted.
If I go through with this. I don’t think that he can force me to marry him. Can he? If he could, wouldn’t he have done it by now? Get the clock started on the month as soon as possible?
When that month is up, what will he do with me?
I don’t believe that he’ll kill me. But maybe he’ll abandon me.
I sit up quickly, sensing a lifeline for the first time since Curse dropped the truth on my head like a hammer last night. Once we’ve been married for a month, he’ll have no further use for me. We could get divorced. There’d be no reason for him not to agree to that. I could become Angela LeBlanc permanently. Find a job somewhere. And an apartment. Curse has untold power and connections. Maybe he’d even help me do it.
For the first time, I could be free from the expectations of the men who rule my world. I have no idea what a life like that could be. But it has to be better than a life with Curse. And certainly better than a life married to one of the other New York bosses.
Even just thinking of New York makes my heart drop down into my guts. No matter where I end up, it can’t be there. I don’t even think I dare to cross the border again, even if I go to a different state. I have no idea if the police are involved with the investigation yet. Curse didn’t say who the “they” was who found Marco’s body. But even so, I already know that I can never go back.
I’ve managed to bring my baggage with me, though. All of papà’s businesses interests. All his assets.
In my name.
Why did he never tell me?
Did Marco know?
Marco seemed content enough to have a long engagement to me. I know he had his many mistresses, so he certainly wasn’t hurting for a woman in his bed. But once Papà died, it was like all bets were off. Wedding preparations got underway with a speed and urgency that made my head spin. We got married barely three months later.
But we didn’t stay married for a month.
We didn’t even stay married for six hours.
I push the warm grey duvet off of myself, wondering where Curse is. And where he spent the night. I doubt he left the house. And I doubt he let himself sleep if it wasn’t beside me. Can’t risk his cash cow disappearing on him.
I want to be angry, but even that insult to him doesn’t seem quite right. Curse Titone doesn’t need a cash cow. He probably doesn’t care about papà’s money at all. He’s never been the business mind of the Titone famiglia. He’s always been the one with the gun. The one with the knife. The one who makes people bleed, not the one who makes them pay up.
