“That’s right.”
He leans in to kiss me, but I shove him away hard. It’s not something I’ve ever done, and he certainly doesn’t expect it, so it catches him off-guard.
“No,” I tell him.
“No?” he asks. “What do you mean, no?”
He tries to take a step forward, but I take another one back.
“I meanno. I’m not kissing you right after you kissed her. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m tired. And I want to go to bed.”
I walk around him, and while Ransome’s head follows, the rest of him stays put. I don’t know if anyone has ever told him no before. But like they say, there’s a first time for everything.
“Are you kicking me out of my own house?” he asks.
“I guess I am.”
“And where am I supposed to go?” he snaps, but I really don’t give a shit if he’s angry.
“Oh, I don’t know.” I glance back at him. “Home to your wife?”
Before he can respond, I walk up the stairs, not looking back. He can stand in that spot for the rest of the night if he wants. I really don’t give a fuck right now.
37
RANSOME
I just got kicked out of my own house.
Cockblocked by my wife. Jesus Christ, what has my life come to?
I’m not going to lie. I went there in the hopes of ripping that dress off myself. Instead, I walked in to see Amara in her underwear, the dress like a shattered disco ball all over the floor.
I gotta be honest. It wasn’t a great dress. When I saw it on Jenica, I wasn’t thrilled. But Amara could make a burlap sack look good, so I let it slide.
And that’s not the point. The point is I still have blue balls as I drive towards my house—myotherhouse—and I’m not looking forward to the conversation I know is coming.
Sure enough, I walk through the door and immediately hear it.
“Well, look who came home tonight instead of sneaking in at 5 A.M.”
Jenica is standing in the kitchen, still wearing the disco ball, a cocktail in hand.
“I’m not in the mood,” I tell her as I hang my coat up in the closet. A closet overrun with furry coats and Birkin handbags. Jesus Christ, this woman is high maintenance. I just thank whatever God is crazy enough to listen to me that she’s still using Daddy’s credit cards and not putting more than a scuff in my account balance.
She spits out a patronizing laugh. “You’re never in the mood for anything. I didn’t assume today would be different. But I did assume that your baby mama called and you went running.”
I brace my hands on the counter in front of her with a granite stare. I’m over this. I’m over her. “What exactly do you want from me? Because if it’sme,you knew that wasn’t on the table when we signed those papers. You knew this was a contract to keep the city from going up in flames. You have my house. You have cars and are waited on hand and foot by my hired help. You have fancy dinners and parties and status and publicity. So what is it?”
Jenica sneers at me. “You really don’t get it, do you? I don’twantyou. I wouldn’t have married you in a million years if it’d been up to me. And it’s obvious you don’t give a fuck. But my entire life hinges on this. I have no place outside of the Bratva, and you make me feel like I have no place in it either. But as long as we are married, you will not make a fool of me again.”
“Me make a fool out of you?”
“Yes, Ransome. You made a fool out of me. You do it every time we’re in public together having a conversation and you’re just checked out. Or worse yet, you’re paying more attention to her than you are to me.”
“It’s always been about attention with you,” I tell her. “That’s the difference between you and Amara.”
Jenica slams her drink down on the counter, nearly breaking the glass. “No. The difference between Amara and me is that I am Bratva.I am a Chadovich. I’m not just higher on the ladder; I was born there. I deserve better than this. I deserve better than you. But unfortunately, this is where I am stuck. Stuck because the rules of the Bratva are ancient and I can’t just be a woman alone in our world. I am owned by my father or I am owned by whoever he decides I’ll marry. Love isn’t an option for me. But Amara… Amara can just walk into your life, woo you any way she sees fit, and get what she wants with the snap of her fingers and the pout of her lip. I don’t want this any more than you do, but I would appreciate it if you could at least pretend to want to be with me when people are watching. You’re not just making me look bad. You’re making yourself look bad, too.”
