Weeks later, I accompany my wife to Table 37, the new restaurant on the Upper East Side, where she was invited to perform on opening night. She wears a backless dress with a slit, driving me and every man in the room insane, her presence a flame ablaze in the sea of people.
She’s elegant, precise, and treats people with grace and charm, her name on everyone’s lips long after the party is over. They ask for her contact, inviting her over for all sorts of events. And she just laughs—a joyous, crystalline laugh that lures me in like a siren—telling everyone to arrange it with her husband. Withme.
She trusts me with everything, and I take my job very fucking seriously.
On the car ride back home, I finger her pussy through that open slit, making her squirm and swallow her moans so the driver won’t hear. I’ll have to kill him if he does. And like thegood girl she is, she covers her mouth with her palm as I pull her across my lap.
She comes hard and fast, a testament to how much I edged her prior to this event. I wanted her reward to feel sweeter than usual, and with how her voice rattles out of her as she convulses in my grasp, I know I’ve achieved just that.
Instinctively, my gaze goes to the rearview mirror, catching the driver’s gaze with a look that tells him what’s to come. Fortunately for him, he pulls out an earplug to show me he hasn’t heard a thing, and I laugh. Looks like our staff learned very quickly the new rule in the house.
When my wife is done making a delicious mess on my hand, I lick it clean and then pull the coin she gifted me a while back from my chest pocket. We’ve been passing it back and forth whenever we have a delicious debt to settle. I place it on her shoulder, and her lips stretch into a lazy smile.
“Oh, I’ll pay.” She twists in my lap, stretching herself out like a cat. “With interest, even.”
I quirk a brow, knowing exactly what that means. She’ll dress up for me sometimes, or wait for me naked, gagged and tied to the bedpost, a three-course meal for me to feast on. She surprises me in the best ways, and the debt I’m collecting keeps piling up. I fucking love it. Loveher. And I’ll gladly spend my life trying to settle the score.
She takes the coin and shoves it in the bodice of her dress, against her naked breast. I can’t help but press my lips to hers, heat coiling around my bones, sending tendrils of pleasure all throughout my body. If the driver hadn’t already pulled into the driveway, I would’ve told him to fuck off so I can spread her wide in the backseat and ram my cock into her tight pussy.
“Go change into something comfortable,” I tell her as we walk into the mansion.
“We’re going out again?”
“It’s barely nine. I want to take you somewhere new.”
Her eyes sparkle, going wide. “The Mediterranean place?”
“You’re too perceptive,” I sigh. “Ruining my surprise.”
She squeals, pressing a quick kiss to my lips, arms thrown around my neck, before skittering to the staircase. I stand in the foyer, lovestruck and dumb, watching her rush upstairs like a princess in a dark fairytale. By the time she’s gone, her sweet perfume still lingers. I close my eyes, hands itching to pull her back into me.
It’s when I open them again that everything shatters.
Because she’s gone now, and I’m alone, and the old familiar guilt I’ve known my entire life seeps back into my skull, tearing through my latest happy memories.
I’m still here, asshole, it seems to say.
Earlier this evening, Wolfgang sent me a message asking me to talk to him. I’ve been avoiding everything pertaining to the business lately, waiting for the Chicago bullshit to resolve, waiting for my fucking sanity to be restored completely, for the guilt to go away so I can be the man my wife deserves.
Now, as I walk toward the other wing, I’m hoping we can get it over with tonight. That I will have finally settled that old score.
I barge into thePakhan’soffice, and his wife is on her knees, her flushed face staring back at me in shock before returning to him. It’s like she’s in a haze, and so is he. My brother’s jaw clenches, and then he lowers his lips to the top of her head, giving her a kiss.
“We’ll continue this later. Go do what I asked,” he tells her.
I simply plop into a random chair as she hurries past me, leaving us alone.
“Fucking knock next time, will you?” Wolf sighs.
I ignore it. He probably got lost in the moment and didn’t realize the door was ajar.
“You texted. What’s wrong this time?” I ask.
He saunters over to his decanter, picking up two glasses. “Why does something have to be wrong? I called you in here to celebrate. We got Chicago back.”
I frown, a swallow working my throat as he hands me a glass of whiskey.
I did it.
