My fists clench, and I barely restrain the fury from my voice because Eros would tell me to fuck off right away. Patient man, he is not. He’s the best of the best in his field, though. I wouldn’t have called in a quick favor if he weren’t. “Can you fix it?”
He gets up and exhales more smoke, smirking. “Of course. I would demolish most of it and build a certain structure over it. We can still preserve the original design and make it perfect.”
“Then that’s what we’ll do. Money and time are not an issue.”
The minute we got married, I sent her home because I could hardly breathe in her company. My possessive cravings were urging me to grab her and lock her away somewhere so I could discover all the ways her body would respond to me.
Only me.
My frustration and hard-on couldn’t be helped, though, so I could always channel the energy into something else, which is when I put my plan in motion. I discovered in these short hours that I wanted to see the place my wife loved so much because, fucking yes.
I’m possessive when it comes to her, and it’s something I have to admit, no matter how ridiculous that makes me.
Eros runs his gaze up and down my form. “You must really love your wife if you want to do all that.” He circles his finger in the air. “For her. Congratulations on the wedding, by the way.”
“My wife’s safety comes first.” I prefer not to delve into why I love calling her my wife for all the men to hear and know she’s off-limits. It fills me with satisfaction so strong I can get off on the feeling alone. Which reminds me. “I need to ask you for a favor.”
“I assumed you dragging me from bed this early was the favor.”
Both of us have huge empires to run. The only difference between us is that Eros cannot function in the mornings and usually creates his masterpieces after nine in the evening, ignoring the outside world before it. His younger sister handles the management side of things during his absence.
“Since the wedding was on short notice, my wife doesn’t have a proper ring on her finger.” I decided not to tell anyone my true reasons for this wedding, including Eros.
“Don’t you have some family heirloom to give her?”
“My wife will wear a ring I bought for her.” Surprise flashes in his gaze at my clipped tone, because the idea of her wearing all that bullshit my father and grandfather bought sends me into a different kind of maddening spiral. These rings might as well be hunted since all the women who wore them were rarely happy. “I want a Price engagement ring.”
The Price family jewelry house is legendary for its unique and exquisite diamonds, making it one of the most sought-after jewelry houses in the world. To get the engagement ring designed by one of them, you have to go through certain hoops, and even that might not be enough.
In fact, they are meticulous, maybe because the couples they design rings for usually last for decades, so their rings have almost become synonymous with the wordcommitment.
But also, because of the price tag, few can afford one. They usually show that men adore their women whenever they do, and I won’t have anyone thinking otherwise.
It still pisses me off that Diana had to endure all the bullying from her family and high school classmates. If I could find every single one of them and make them pay, I would. In fact, what a brilliant idea.
Eros snaps me back to the conversation at hand.
“Then buy it.” He coughs on the smoke when I push him hard, and he stumbles to the side, chuckling. “Sensitive, are we?”
“Florian Price told me to fuck off because he’s on vacation with his wife.” Yesterday, I would have questioned him even though I’ve heard various rumors about the guy over the years.
The most notable one was that he fell in love with his best friend’s little sister and got her pregnant, which angered his godfather, who happened to be his wife’s father.
Fucked-up dynamic if you ask me, but it must have worked out for them. You can’t come near his wife without him being somewhere close by, and I can’t say I judge the guy.
I don’t want anyone near Diana either, and while my obsession seems fast and unhealthy, I don’t give a damn.
My wife is mine, and I will ensure the whole world knows it in every way possible.
“So you want me for my connections, is that it?” Eros asks and hisses through his teeth. “What a bad friend you are.”
“We aren’t friends.”
We’ve known each other since we were five years old, and we bonded over our mutual hatred for our fathers, who used their children as weapons and never gave a fuck about them.
Family functions and vacations, private boarding schools, and even prestigious universities.
Our mothers’ funerals.
