“You know what? I don’t really care what you do, Kaz. Sleep around all you want, since I don’t plan on ever letting you in my bed again. It’s better this way, right? You do your thing, and I’ll do mine.”
A flash of anger hits me so hot, I’m not sure how I haven’t melted the tarmac beneath my feet.
I pull her in closer so she can be sure to hear every word I’m about to say.
“Understand one thing,wife. If I ever find you doingyour thingwith another man, I will have his heart pulled straight from his chest while it’s still beating.”
Her eyes widen in shock.
I let her go and turn to the driver. “Straight home. No stops.”
“You got it, boss.”
Without another look in her direction, I stalk off to my car. Let her stew in her own anger.
Live her own life?
She has no idea what’s in store for her.
This isn’t a love match. This is revenge.
And it’s about to get started.
It’s the light that wakes me, hours after I’ve curled up on the overstuffed armchair with my phone. I’d intended to read something smutty. Something funny. Something that would take me away from the awful reality that I’m married to a man that seems to hate me and is determined to make me feel as alone as possible.
The bright light shining from the bathroom onto my face hurts my eyes as I wake up. I don’t remember turning on the lights. It had been completely dark in this tomb of a room when I’d climbed into the chair.
A figure steps into the doorway of the bathroom, blocking enough of the brightness that I can make out his silhouette.Broad shoulders, enough height to almost touch the top of the door frame, but it’s his aftershave that gives him away.
“What time is it?” I mutter, fumbling for my phone that’s lost in the blanket on my lap.
“Nearly two in the morning.” He steps out of the doorway.
Enough sleep leaves my mind that I can focus now. He’s shirtless, shoeless. My mouth waters. Pantless, even. Only a pair of black boxer briefs hug his muscular body.
“I didn’t realize this was your room. The housekeeper didn’t tell me that; she just said to use this room.” I catch my phone just before it slips off the chair.
“That’s Mrs. Popova. And where else would she tell my wife to sleep, if not in my room?”
I rub the heel of my hand into my eye. It had been a deep sleep. A comfortable sleep.
“I don’t know, the dungeon?”
His mouth kicks up at the side, like he wants to smile but if he did it might make me think he doesn’t despise me. And he can’t have that.
Not after all the effort he’s gone to so far to remind he how miserable he is about all this.
A situation that I’m also in, by the way. It’s not like it was my decision to marry someone I’d never met before. Someone who has a monster inside of him.
“How did your date with what’s-her-name go?” Leaving the blanket bunched up on the chair, I slide off.
As awake as I am now that he’s home and glaring at me, I’m still exhausted.
It’s like my body reached the threshold of the stress it could hold for one day and has simply shut down. At first, when the SUV pulled away from the airport I was furious with him for dumping me off with his men again. But by the time we arrived at his brownstone, I realized it was a gift.
Alone, I was able to meet his housekeeper, a sweet, older woman with silver threads through her dark hair. She’d been kind enough to show me where the essentials were: the bathrooms, the kitchen, the snack pantry—that’s what she called it, because that’s what Kaz called it—and then which bedroom I could use.
My suitcases were already in the bedroom when she brought me up. I’d changed into a cotton nightgown, brushed out my hair, and pulled it up into a messy bun and sought out the dark corner of the room to fall into a book.
