Page 37 of Like An Animal

THE GHOST

I ’m woken by Jeremy nipping at the back of my shoulder, like he used to always wake me up, but my only response is a grunt of disapproval.

“Wake up, my wife,” he rasps in my ear. “Unless you think you need my cock in your ass to wake you up.”

“Leave me alone.” I bury my face in the pillow.

“Have it your way.” Suddenly, he flips me onto my stomach and covers my body with his, his hard cock rubbing along my inner thigh.

Oh, fuck.

“I prefer fucking you when you’re half asleep anyway.”

Honestly, me, too.

He runs the head of his cock along my slit and I almost miss the sound of him whimpering amongst my moans, but god, I’m glad I caught it. That’s my favorite sound he makes when it comes to sex.

But, we don’t get to do what he intended.

Suddenly, there's a loud bang on the door. I nearly jump out of my skin, but he holds me in place.

“Go away!”

Then, a voice I don’t recognize comes through the door. “Sorry, boss, but the bratva is here and wishes to speak with you in the lounge.”

Bratva.

Why does that term sound familiar?

I know it has something to do with the Russian mafia, but I’m blanking on what it means.

“Goddamn it,” Jeremy grunts in my ear, but I know that whoever is wanting to talk to him can’t be left waiting. I was really looking forward to him fucking me.

Also, is Lottie back yet? It’s been at least a few hours.

“We’ll continue this later,” he whispers in my ear before dragging his teeth roughly along the flesh of my throat, sending shivers down my spine.

“Can’t wait,” I moan, nudging my cunt back against his cock.

I hoped that the move might entice him to stay, but duty calls.

Jeremy climbs out of bed as I struggle to calm down the need rushing through every cell in my body. I sit up in bed as Jeremy walks over to the door next to the bathroom and pulls it open.

“Should I just wait here?” I ask as I tuck the comforter under my arms to cover myself up. I know just as well as he does that we have very little control when it comes to our sexual desires for each other.

“No. Come get dressed,” he responds from inside whatever room that is, probably a closet.

I get up, still wearing the blanket, and walk over to the door, but I almost swallow my tongue when I look inside to see Jeremy buttoning up a shirt over his beautiful tattoos.

It’s not just a closet. It’s a massive walk-in closet with men’s clothes on one side and women’s clothes on the other.

Why are there women’s clothes here? This is Jeremy’s room, right?

I know it’s been five years, but if he found someone else, why did he come for me? Why did he bring me back here?

“Whose are these?” I ask, motioning with a finger toward the women’s clothes. Jeremy walks over to me, a pair of shoes in hand. He places his arm around the front of my waist before kissing my temple, but my instinct is to push him off of me.

Who is special enough for him to let her put her clothes in his closet?

“They’re yours, little ghost. They arrived when we were still on the plane. Get dressed. You have two minutes.”

My entire body stiffens as I grab the first thing I see on the rack and search for the size.

My entire body relaxes before the realization hits me. That’s why Jeremy ripped off my clothes on the plane. He took them so he would know everything he bought for me would fit.

Oh, Jer.

I drop the blanket and thumb through the options he gave me. All of these clothes are more expensive than anything I’m used to wearing. Not just from the brands, but also the quality of the fabric. I thought my clothes were nice, but this is different.

I get dressed in a nice strapless black dress and grab a pair of matching heels because I have the feeling that whoever we are going to meet is very important. If they weren’t, Jeremy would be rearranging my organs by now.

When I walk out, Jeremy is sitting on the edge of the bed, looking down at a watch on his wrist.

He looks up as I try to work through the knots in my hair, but his eyes room over my body. From the look on his face, I can tell he really likes the dress.

“The brush is in the bathroom,” he offers monotonously.

I make quick work in the bathroom of brushing out my hair until it seems mildly presentable. Then, I try smiling in the mirror, figuring out if it will look weird when I have to give fake enthusiasm to whoever is here for Jeremy.

Still, it looks weird.

Jeremy always said he could tell the difference between my forced smiles and genuine smiles. It took me a long time to be able to spot it, but I can.

It’s one of those things that once you see it, you can never un see it.

I walk back into the bedroom as Jeremy stands up.

Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a wedding band before taking my hand and slipping the ring on my finger.

He’s as nonchalant about it as he would be answering a phone call, but looking down at the basic, silver band around my finger makes the paper he made me sign that much more real.

I married Jeremy.

He’s my husband now.

“It would be pretty hard to tell someone you’re my wife without a ring on your finger,” he explains without me questioning him, but I’m not complaining.

It may be a plain wedding band, but it’s beautiful and it fits.

How did he get my ring size right?

“What about yours?” I ask in a sassy tone and he smirks before lifting his hand, showing the matching band sitting on his finger.

“All taken care of.”

It would appear so.

Jeremy walks out of the room and down the stairs with my hand in his. Even though I can feel something bad coming in the air, I don’t feel scared because he’s here with me. Maybe that should make everything more terrifying, but it doesn’t.

“Right in here,” Jeremy says before pushing open a door down the hall from the kitchen.

Pressing his hand against my lower back, he guides me inside to see a fireplace, three tall bookshelves, a full bar, three sofas, and a big wooden desk with a man standing behind it, looking out the bay window at the yard.

“Took you long enough, syn,” the man speaks and his voice… I know it.

How the fuck do I know it?

I do know what he called Jeremy though. Jeremy, Massimo, and Xavi have been speaking Russian around me since Kathy first started dating my father. Anytime I asked them what a word meant, they would tell me.

Syn translates to son. It was one of the simplest translations that they taught me.

Does that mean that this man is Jeremy’s grandfather?

Of course. Now, I remember. The bratva is the head of the mafia, the highest ranking person in the organization.

Then, as if having an epiphany, my brain glitches.

Mr. B told me that Jeremy was in the Grove Hill area for his probation.

If he was out there, why has everyone been acting like Jeremy has just as much say as his grandfather does?

Everyone has gone with whatever he says.

I haven’t seen an ounce of pushback from any of the guards or anyone.

Why?

Mr. B said he had disappeared the day before yesterday. It doesn’t make any sense.

The math doesn’t add up. I’m missing some piece of the puzzle.

“Grandpa, this is Bronwyn.”

The man turns around, holding a small glass filled halfway with a dark brown liquid.

I…I know him. I’ve only seen his face once, but it was burned into my memory from the trauma the words he said gave me. I still remember the way his voice sounded when he said that his bosses wanted to throw the death penalty at Jeremy.

“Mr. B?”

Wait. No. No, it can’t be. If he’s Jeremy’s grandfather…

It was all a fucking show. A slide of fucking hand.

Jeremy never went to prison.

He wasn’t in a halfway house.

He was here in New Jersey.

He was living it up while I was being tortured, manipulated, raped.

He broke his promise.

Although I want nothing more than to push Jeremy away and slap him so hard he flies into next week, I want to know what his grandfather wants before anything else. I’ll deal with Jeremy later.

“I wish I could say it’s good to see you, Miss Durst.” His eyes narrow at me as if I’m a bug he wants to squash, an inconvenience that he wants to erase.

What the fuck is his problem?

I would understand Jeremy being pissed at me, but he has no right, unless he’s mad that I killed Kathy. That cunt deserved it though. If I could kill her again, I would and I’d make it last longer.

And, yes, it’s because she hurt Jeremy.

He’s killed for me and so have I. I’d do it again, no matter how pissed off I am at him right now.

“Well, it’s never good to see you so, I can’t be too mad, can I?”

Jeremy’s grandfather smirks, barely holding in a laugh, almost as if he thinks I’m a petulant child. Fuck you, asshole. I’m twenty-three years old. I’ve gone through more shit than he could ever imagine.

“They said you wanted to speak to me,” Jeremy mutters while tightening his arm around my waist.

“Well, it wasn’t so much that I wanted to speak with you. I’ve said everything I need to about this whole situation.” He motions to all of me as if I’m a fucking problem. “I just brought your fiancée to see you.”

“Excuse me?” Jeremy and I say in unison, our voices dripping with shock and horror. Clearly, he was just as unaware of this betrothment as I was.

The door behind us opens and I turn my head as a slender brunette walks in wearing a dress so short one would think she was going to a party.

She could’ve picked that outfit because she genuinely liked it, but I get the feeling it was a strategic move to try to grab Jeremy’s attention. Missy used to try to do the same thing and he never stopped giving her a disgusted look anytime she tried to touch him.

I don’t know anything about what he has done or who he has been with the past five years, so they could’ve had a relationship. It’s always a possibility, even if unlikely.

She’s pretty. I’ll give her that, but that doesn’t mean shit. I bet she’s used to getting whatever she wants though.