Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
“Your bed now too,” he said, shrugging.
“I’d rather sleep on the floor,” I grumbled.
Primo ignored that.
“Are you going to dress or what?” he asked, making my brows draw together.
“This is all I own right now,” I said, waving down at my work outfit—slacks and a blouse. Nothing special. And more than a little wrinkled and dirty from the events of the day.
“The dress in the closet. I’m assuming you’ve thoroughly inspected the space.”
“There was nothing in the closet,” I said, chin lifting.
“There is a dress. And shoes,” he said.
“There’s not,” I countered.
“There is.”
“Go see for yourself if you’re so damn certain,” I invited, waving toward the closet.
Primo turned and moved through the bedroom to the bathroom.
And because I knew I was right and was just a teensy bit competitive that way, I got up to follow, standing in the doorway with my arms folded.
“See?” I said, jerking my chin up when he whipped around to face me.
“No. It is here,” Primo insisted, moving into the closet that would eventually be mine.
“Really? Where? Is there a secret compartment in the wall?” I asked, tone dry, getting a glance from him, but I couldn’t read what I found in his eyes.
“She must have put it in my closet,” he grumbled, storming past me into his own closet, taking a moment to find a garment bag and a shoebox.
“She?” I asked, watching as he moved into my side of the closet, hanging up the bag and putting the shoebox down on the ground.
“The housekeeper.”
“You have a housekeeper?”
“Do you think I have time to wash my own dishes?”
“Well, she missed the coffee cup on your nightstand,” I told him. “What?” I asked, seeing something flash across his gaze.
“She was otherwise distracted,” Primo said, moving out of the closet.
There was something in his tone.
“Distracted how?” I pressed.
I regretted it when he turned on his heel, giving me a devilish smirk.
“You fuck your housekeeper?” I asked, only just realizing that I might not only have to sleep with this man, but also endure his relentless cheating.
God, my pride. It would be in tiny pieces.
I didn’t tolerate cheating. Ever. It was an immediate cause to dump a guy.
Not only because they’d betrayed me and my trust and the relationship we’d started to build, but because he’d made a fool of me as well.
That, well, that wouldn’t stand.
But what choice would I have here?
None.
I would have none.
“I fuck whoever I want,” he said, shrugging. “But if you must know, I don’t fuck her. She just sucks me off on occasion.”
Gross.
“That is not going to happen again,” I informed him, chin raising, back straightening, hoping I could at least fake the strength I wasn’t feeling.
“Is that so?” he asked, watching me.
“You’ve made a fool enough of me,” I told him, hoping my jaw didn’t look as trembly as it felt. “I will not have you doing that to me too.”
“You think you can tell me what to do?” he asked, stalking forward, towering over me, making me need to crane my head up to keep eye contact. “Just who do you think you are?” he asked, tone low, threatening.
But if I backed down now, I would be backing down my entire life. I’d rather not live at all than live like that. Bowing and kowtowing to this monster of a man.
“Your wife,” I said, clenching my teeth to keep my lips from quivering.
His hand rose at my side and it took a lot of strength not to wince, to jerk away.
But he wasn’t going to strike me.
No.
Instead, he grabbed the back of my neck, fingertips digging in.
“That’s right,” he agreed, nodding. It was a borderline painful pressure, and the gesture was unmistakably possessive. Which I didn’t want. Not at all. But there was a weird tightening between my legs at the feeling regardless. “Now get dressed, so we can make it official.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Primo
I wasn’t the most moral of men. Anyone would tell you that. My sins were as dark a shade as they came in. But I had some beliefs in life, shit I held sacred.
Like family.
Like the Family.
Like taking care of my neighborhood.
And the sanctity of marriage.
I had no delusions when it came to the situation. Isabella’s consent to the marriage had been coerced. She didn’t truly have a choice in the matter. No halfway decent person would save themselves by sacrificing ten or twelve others. That wasn’t how things worked.
It also meant that she hadn’t exactly agreed to fucking me either.
And I might be a bastard in many—if not most—ways, but I didn’t rape. That was one place where I drew a line.
I wasn’t going to force myself on Isabella.
I trusted that in time she would learn to feel a connection toward me. And the physical part of the relationship would start.
But because I believed in the sanctity of marriage, in the vow you made to not only your partner but God, it meant I couldn’t fuck around anymore.