He wants me to sleep at his place for more than one night, so he must pass a test. That was our deal. But I am only postponing the inevitable.
Determination fuels me, reminding me who I am—a strong, independent, confident woman. Someone who survived blankness. Who lives with demons but doesn’t relent to them.
Outside, the morning sun greets me, infusing life into a place destined to snub it.
I quickly find the commander of my team.
“Ma’am,” he says, bowing his head slightly my way.
“My husband would like a challenge.”
“How far should we go?” he asks, caution lacing his voice.
“He needs a bit of humility, and after last time”—I pin him with a hard stare, leaving the unspoken message to linger. His being able to infiltrate my compound was embarrassing—“we will show him why we’re the best in the industry, won’t we?”
He tips his chin in acknowledgment, my belly tightening as I walk away. Ignoring that pesky weakness, I come to an abrupt halt and say over my shoulder, “I expect you to treat him like he’s the enemy.”
Back inside, I enter the dining room and find him staring out the window. Just like all the other times, his back turned to me is something I can’t bear. “You’re awake.”
He spins to me, wearing a relaxed pose with his hands in his pockets. “I see you’ve made plans for me.”
“Did you change your mind, husband?” I ask with a playful tilt as I sashay to him, emboldened by the way he takes me in as if I captivate him.
“Pack your bag. We’ll fly afterward. I have a family meeting.”
Family meetings in the Mafia mean he must take care of something. Maybe we should reschedule the test. He will be in terrible shape afterward. I am about to propose that when he smirks, jerking his chin at me. “How’s the ass?”
The insensitive asshole. It’s one thing when it happens under the cloak of night, in the privacy of our bedroom, when I can pretend it didn’t happen and that I am not betraying everything I stood for until I met him, but him bringing it into daylight breaks a silent code.
Time for my men to teach him some humility.
As I drifted to sleep, he applied some soothing gel. It still astounds me that I let him take care of me afterward and that a part of me softened for it. I am not ready to acknowledge any of that.
“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say haughtily when I reach him. Even in heels, I don’t reach his chin, and that strangely makes me feel all kinds of things I am also not ready to admit.
He backs me into the window, caging me between two hard surfaces as if I need proof that I can’t escape. The air grows heady with delicious tension and all-encompassing desire.
He grips my chin, smirking while his other hand travels down my back and settles on my ass. “The ten slaps caused by your bratty behavior.”
A delicious shiver travels from my toes to my scalp, making me suck in a shallow breath. A wicked promise is etched in those blue eyes as they peer into my soul and claim it as his.
If one of my men injures him fatally, I won’t mourn him. I stare him down, but he keeps my gaze, unperturbed by the chaos he wreaks inside me.
His stubbornness matches mine, and after some time, I huff, my stomach growling. Sustenance is better than engaging in a childish staring contest with my husband.
If only I could change time. I would have thought twice before proposing marriage, but the deal happened, and I can’t change the outcome.
At the table, I pick at my boiled egg while he plates eggs, bacon, and vegetables from the breakfast spread. I prefer silence because I can think undisturbed, but his presence is so loud it overpowers every coherent thought. He creates a small bowl of strawberries and blueberries—my favorites—in a smiley face.
The gesture is sweet, and I can’t stop myself from smiling. “Is that an apology?”
His brows furrow in a contrite expression. “For what?”
“Really?”
“Come here,” he says, his husky voice causing a jolt straight between my thighs.
God, give me strength. This devil is threatening my composure.
