The bedroom door crashes open, sending a vase tumbling onto a fluffy green rug.
“You fucking asshole,” my best friend roars in fury when he sees me buried balls-deep inside his wife’s cunt.
A better man would feel guilty, but I don’t. I grin as I pull out and come all over her tits with a deep groan.
Either he learns to share, or he loses us both. God knows she needs both of us to keep her safe.
And if he refuses to accept the truth?
Well I’m not fucking around anymore.
12
Angelo
Kane reclines in the airline chair opposite me, looking like a man at peace with the world. Which is surprising given the black eye he sports. Courtesy of yours truly.
My wife is asleep in the bedroom with the door closed. Knowing her, she’s wedged it shut with a chair, although I haven’t bothered checking. She’s delusional if she thinks she can keep me out.
Once we’re back at the mansion, I’m laying down a few rules. One of which is that she doesn’t fuck my brother or my former best friend.
“I can hear you thinking from over here,” Kane comments, his eyes still closed. A flight attendant sashays over to ask if we need anything, but I send her away. While I’d love to drown my sorrows, my plate is too full to risk landing with a hangover.
An email arrives from my lawyer. I read it and release some of the tension I’ve been carrying since we left the US.
It seems as if our law firm has finally earned the ridiculous amount of money we pay them to handle our shit. The fedshave backed off. There’s not enough evidence to charge me, apparently.
I’m not stupid enough to think this problem is over. It isn’t. Not by a long shot. Whoever is behind the bullshit we’re dealing with is trying to distract me. If not for the problems with the accounts, Chiara would not have been at our office.
I blame myself for putting her in danger. I thought she’d be safe with a security detail, but after what happened to the four men assigned to protect her, it’s obvious I was wrong.
Chiara is safer at the estate, and from now on, that’s where she stays unless I’m with her.
I know she won’t like it when I tell her, but I don’t give a fuck.
“We’re in the clear with the feds,” I tell Kane. He blinks in surprise, so I give him the bare bones of what the lawyers said.
“Any word from Milo about who’s behind this?”
“No.”
Milo is a pain in my ass. He ignores my emails and calls. Only deigning to reply when it suits him. What’s worse is that I now owe multiple favors to both the Russian and the Irish mobs. It’s a mess.
The only silver lining is that my father is blissfully unaware of most of it. From what Fina tells me, Dad is on vacation with his latest twenty-something bimbo. The woman is gunning for a wedding ring, but she’s got no chance.
“Chiara is to remain at the estate when we get back. She doesn’t leave for any reason. No spa appointments with Fina, no shopping trips. Nothing.”
“She won’t like that.”
“I don’t give a fuck what she likes,” I snarl. The tension between us is at breaking point. The mental snapshot of him balls-deep inside my wife refuses to go away, and I hate how jealous and turned on it makes me feel.
We’ve shared women before. I don’t have a problem with that. But not Chiara. Not her. It’s bad enough that she refuses to talk to me most of the time. Refuses to give an inch or entertain any kind of relationship.
It’s slowly sinking in that forcing Chiara into marriage was a mistake. Not only does she refuse to bend to my will, but she surprises me at every turn. Hell, any other woman would have crumbled after what happened to her, but she’s bearing up surprisingly well. I expected her to fall apart after she collapsed the night of the gala, but this time, she fought back and killed a man.
She’s exactly the kind of woman I need at my side.
Vicious when she needs to be.
