Page 33 of Scream (Duchess & Devils #1)

“You can bake at the penthouse.”

“I’ve tried! I’ve tried, but it’s not the same. It’s empty and cold there. It feels like I’m baking in a museum and not my cozy kitchen.”

“I bought you all new state-of-the-art baking supplies.” I grumble.

Her eyes soften toward me again. “I know, thank you. But it doesn’t feel like my kitchen. It feels like yours . It feels like I’m imposing-”

“You’re not.” How can I tell this woman I want her in my home?

I want her in my bed. In my car. At my fights.

I want her scent on my sheets. I always want her with me.

Fuck, it feels like I’m grasping at straws now.

I can’t explain this feeling other than I want her there.

With me. Forever. Christ, when did this happen?

“You and I are married now, Sabrina. Is it that you’re scared to fall for me?

Hmm? Is that why you can’t stand to be in enclosed spaces with me?

Afraid you’ll fall in love with your husband? ”

Please say yes.

Her face scrunches up, and she lets out a scoff, but at least she isn’t laughing at me.

“You stupid, stupid man. Can't you see that it's not that I can't or won't love you, it's that I can't even stand to look at myself most days? Do you see full-length mirrors here? Do you see how I avoid my reflection? Do you notice how many times I wash my hands or shower? Of course you don’t, if you did, you’d realize that I.

Can't. Love. You. Because. I. Hate . Me.

" She sniffs. "And it's not like I don't try.

My therapist says, 'do this’ and ‘ do that’ and ‘ redirect your train of thought, compartmentalize’ and ‘ aim my ire at those who deserve it' and yet when I'm forced to look at my face every fucking morning, I still hate the person staring back at me. Even with all the inner work I’ve done. It hasn’t gone away.

I still hate myself for being so stupid. So naive.

“I have to stop myself from breaking every time I walk past my reflection.

Every time, Maksim. I have to force myself to wake up and be nice to those who haven't hurt me.

I have to power through meetings in enclosed spaces and smile through it all when all I want to do is scream , Maksim," her voice breaks just enough.

"I want to scream like a banshee at every one and every thing to leave me the fuck alone, but the only person I'm angry at - is myself .

For being too trusting. For being young and stupid and not keeping my wits about me.

.. when it wasn't even my fault! I didn't do this to me, and yet I still have to live with the consequences. "

She exhales, not allowing the tears to fall, but she sniffs.

"I am continuously repairing what someone else broke while trying to maintain a semblance of who I used to be, and all I am is exhausted . Everything – life itself – exhausts me so much that it’s difficult for me to even breathe.

I feel like I'm drowning, and it all makes my skin crawl.” Her chest heaves as she sucks in a breath, blinking rapidly.

“And there will always be a time when I can't push forward, and you will think me weak .

Useless. Unworthy. When all I'm trying to do – every second of every hour of every fucking day – is keep my head above water from the moment my eyes open.

Because even in my sleep, I'm trying to stay afloat, not letting the undercurrent take hold of me. "

"I won't let it." I rasp, wanting to take all of her pain as my own, hating that she heard me call her weak, disgusted with myself for calling her useless. Whatever she went through, wasn’t just too many alcoholic beverages. The more I see her, the more I’m beginning to see all of her. The more I want to know what happened. Or who happened. Someone hurt her, someone took away the possibility of us, and I’m going to find out who, and shred them.

Sabrina shakes her head, the glossy golden waves moving with it around her shoulders. "You can't say or promise those things. I was fine , alone. I was at peace , alone, Maksim. I was safe alone. Letting myself love you will ruin me."

"And you don't think it'll ruin me?"

She turns to me, "It will. But in the end, you and I both know who actually has the upper hand here. Who can inflict the most pain mentally, verbally, emotionally, and physically... and it isn't me."

My jaw drops in horror and anger. "I would never abuse-"

Green eyes snap to mine, the glare so cold. "Haven't you already? Any chance you get to remind me I'm less than, you take it and you goad it, and you fucking slap me in the face with it."

"You call me an ogre!"

"But I've never called you a useless nor a weak ogre, have I?

When we're in public I praise you and behind closed doors, Maksim, I've kept my venom to myself, because I'd rather choke on it than inflict the pain I feel every day onto others.

You even insult my best friend every time you can, and without knowing it, you've insulted me each time you've done it.

She survived something horrendous, and all you hyper fixate on is that she isn't warm and inviting, or your version of normal.

As if anything about this life, or how we came to be married is normal , you self-righteous cockwomble.

You haven't even given her a chance to warm up to you, but she loves me... even though I don’t deserve it after I deserted her.

" She shakes her head, and her gaze travels to the floor, and I let myself truly look at my wife.

She is, without a doubt, the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.

I will repeat that until the end of my days.

I stare openly, speechless, because she's right.

Even when she's pulled away from me in public, it was to set herself straight.

To make me look better. More powerful. But now, I can see the way her shoulders sag, the way the faint purple beneath her eyes is more visible even with makeup, gaunt, pale.

She looks like the exhaustion is eating her up from the inside out.

I need to fix this, but I don’t know how.

She bites her plump lower lip, letting it go slowly as though contemplating more words.

"Spit it out, Sabrina."

"In three hundred and forty-three days, you get your money back plus interest. It's more than enough. My father will no longer owe you, and neither will I."

She's counting how many days we've been married? I hike a brow, but the blood is rushing to my ears before I can even swallow whatever emotion is crawling up my sternum. "What are you saying?" I choke out, heart pounding.

"I'm saying... I think... the West Coast needs a Winters & Co. Office and... and I should manage it."

Oh no, fuck that. She wants to leave me in a year? There's a gnawing pain in the pit of my stomach. Suddenly, Parker’s words from that day on her family’s jet make so much sense to me now.

“All that matters is that she stays alive in your world until you get your money.”

It had felt wrong then, it feels wrong now. She belongs with me. "Sabrina-"

"I'll still make appearances. I won't disappear entirely.

I just think once this year is behind us, we can just..

. live apart. You can... you can do whatever or whomever you please.

And after a few years, when there's been no heir.

.. you can blame it on me. My womb. Whatever.

I'm sure the families will understand a divorce once I don’t produce an heir. "

They wouldn't. And she will produce my heirs.

"It wouldn't hurt you, to see another woman on my arm?" I ask thickly, my eyes searching hers.

She lifts a shoulder and lets it drop with a shake of her head.

"I've seen the women you have on your arm and no.

I look nothing like them. I know I'm not your type.

I settled with that long before we were married.

I know you'll bed those women, and I made peace with that a long time ago.

I'm not here to keep you from going after what you want, Maksim – women included. "

How couldn't she see she is exactly my type? Three-point-three million dollars. That is what I wanted, wasn't it? I didn't fucking want a wife, but now I don't not want one – and the one I want, is her.

I can't imagine her not in my future. Can't imagine a day when I come home and she's not buzzing around in my kitchen like a little bee or staring down one of her cupcakes like a worthy adversary.

I can't imagine not smelling her perfume, or her scent of warm sugar, cinnamon, and whatever she used to bake that day.

I can't imagine not hearing her sing terribly to whatever song is on her playlist, thinking I'm not watching.

I can't imagine our penthouse going back to monochrome and monotone.

Those little dashes of pink - of life – here and there, making it ours.

I stand from where I'm sitting, and if I look dangerous, she shows it by shrinking in front of me.

I reach for her, crushing her delicious body to me, until we're chest to ribs. I tilt her chin up to look at me, relishing in the way she shivers at my touch but doesn’t shove me away – only leaning into me.

My wife will love me. "Only in death will you ever get away from me, Duchess.

Even then, be prepared for me to find you in the ether, or heaven or hell, where you go, I will find you. And you will forever be my bride."

She lets out a small whimper when my hand encases her throat like a lovely choker for a second, before my fingers flow to the valley between her ample breasts.

I find her hand and place it on my ever-stiffening cock.

Her lips part, and her pupils dilate until the green is but a tiny ring around the black.