I lay my cheek on the bed and reach behind me. He takes both my hands in one of his and yanks me harder. My shoulders wince as he slams against me. There’s no pleasure in it, nothing, just body parts slamming together. I writhe, and I moan, and he loves it. What can I say? I play being fucked great really well.
He pulls out, shoves me onto my side on the bed, then cums over me, laughing as he does.
God, he’s disgusting.I smile at him. I pant, and I stutter out, “W-wow.”
“See how good it will be when we’re married?”
I sit up and nod, beaming up at him, covered in his cum. He lies at the side of me and kisses me. It’s not nice. It’s not sexy. He clashes his teeth into mine, crushes my lips on his, and bites at my bottom lip, breaking the skin. I grimace inside, but I smile up at him.
“You look good covered in my cum. I want you to keep it on you when we go for dinner with your father tonight.”
I nod and smile again.Sick fuck.“What are we going to do about the wedding? What about Father?”
“You leave him to me; don’t worry your pretty little head. Over my dead body will I lose anything. This legacy is mine.”
I smirk because that’s my plan, too. I wrap myself in my arms and withdraw from him.
“Hey,” he snaps, “you’re mine! I will kill him to keep you.”
I’m not under any illusion that this is one of those “she’s the love of my life” and “I will burn the world down for her” situations. This is a “she is my meal ticket in with the other families, and if I don’t have her, I have no way in. I’ll be kicked out, so she will be mine whether I want her or not” type of situation. I fling my arms around him.
“Will you kill him?”
He pulls me back, and I force a tear to roll down my cheek. “If I have to.” He pinches my chin harder than necessary to get me to look at him. He’s not much taller than me, but I tilt my chin and drop my eyes. “Hey.” He crashes his lips against mine. “Whatever it takes.”
I nod and whimper a little, and he grabs me by the shoulders. “Hey. Stop. I’ll sort it out, and we will get married. I’m setting a date now. One month.”
“One month?”
“Yes, I will arrange a meeting with him now. One month from today, I will kill him. One month from tomorrow, you will be mine officially.”
I nod. He kisses my head but shoves me away as he turns and exits my room. I smile. One month—that’s all I have to put the finishing touches to all my plans. I tug my phone out from my bedside table and message Craig, my trainer.
Arianna: I need to work out tomorrow. Pilates and a spa session.
Craig: I’ll clear the day.
I smile and crack my neck. I slide the lock on the door and drag my bed away from the wall, pulling out the panel I made behind the headboard. I grab the bag withmy new identity, Marianne’s new identity, some cash, a gun, and a burner phone.
Arianna: 1 month.
M: I’ll be ready
I check everything, delete the messages and tuck it back in the bag, stuffing it all back into the wall, ready to be dealt with later.
I wake up and stretch. My body couldn’t relax. Unable to sleep more than an hour at a time, I tossed and turned all night. I need a good workout. My neck is full of knots, and my back aches. I slept like shit, unable to stop my mind from racing. The feel of the gun in my hand from last night sets me on fire every time, itching to pull the trigger.
I get dressed in my yoga gear, grab my mat, and head downstairs. Father and Alfredo are at the kitchen island, talking heatedly back and forth. As I walk in, they both stop. I don’t acknowledge either of them until I grab my drink from the counter and fill it.
“Morning, Father.”
He just nods, and Alfredo glares at me, those muddy brown eyes so disapproving, looking me up and down. “You’re wearing that?”
“I’m going to do yoga.” Well, Pilates, actually—well, probably neither, so it doesn’t really matter.
“When we’re married, you’ll cover up. I won’t have you walking around half-naked,” he scolds, and my father smirks at the back of his head. It’s small, a tiny grin—but I see it all the same. I know what he’s thinking—he’s thinking there isn’t going to be a wedding, and I know why he hasn’t said anything about my outfit. Father would normally, but now he’s happy for me to go out like this, all to wind Alfredo up.He’s playing him, smug bastard.
“How long will you be gone?” Alfredo snaps, jealousy rolling off him in waves, his face pinched, clenched with a loathing that makes me smile inside.
