Page 21 of The Mafia Marriage Contract

Maybe it is.

I rise to my feet, suitcase handle in one hand, the violin case in the other, and take one last look around the apartment, at the space that held all the versions of me I never gotto grow into.

And then I leave.

Back in the car, my phone buzzes with a message from Kingston.

Be ready by 7 pm. We’re expected at a charity gala tonight. First public appearance as my wife.

I grit my teeth. No “please.” No “hope you slept well in my bed.” No consideration that I might not be in the mood to play dress-up and be paraded in front of everyone as a trophy wife with a heavy heart.

I stare at the message, letting the reality of it all settle over me.

My wife.

He called me that a few times yesterday but seeing it spelled out before me, a phrase that’s supposed to mean devotion, loyalty, maybe even safety, it makes my anger simmer.

I toss the phone onto the passenger seat, understanding that this is how my new life begins.

Smile on cue. Dress to kill when required. Pretend the noose around my neck is just another diamond necklace.

And carry a gun in a thigh holster, ready to shoot any fucker who thinks my silence means surrender or that this O’Callaghan comes without claws.

8

KINGSTON

“Let’s go,” I say with impatience while frowning at my watch. “We’re going to miss our ride.”

Livvie huffs as she runs around the first floor of the penthouse, sticking pins into her hair. She holds them between her teeth and uses one hand to secure them while the other hand clutches a pair of ridiculously high heels.

She drops them onto the marble tile and slips her feet in at the same time she finishes with her hair.

“Jesus, is it too much to ask for you to be ready on time?”

“Oh, wait,” she says breathlessly, running back to the bedroom. She comes back and dangles a pair of earrings in front of me. “I almost forgot.”

“Can you please hurry the fuck up?” I mutter.

“Guess the dew is off the rose in this marriage, hmm,hubby?” She flashes a flirty grin that makes me want to bend her over the couch and make her scream my name.

I respond in turn with my own knowing grin. “Everyonealways says the first year is the hardest. Guess we’re just proving them right.”

“Trust me, there will only be one year if I have anything to say about it.” She secures the second earring and then flips me off.

I bite back a smirk. She’s got balls, I’ll say that. But as much as I want to punish her smart-ass mouth by shoving my cock deep inside of it, we have a gala to get to.

Lots of curious eyes will be watching us tonight, trying to find chinks in the armor. So I’m going to have to somehow control my mouthy bride,somehowbeing the operative word.

She flounces to the door, her ass swinging from side to side in that insanely tight black gown.

But just as she stabs the Down button for the elevator, I call out that we’re going up.

She turns, a blank look on her face. “Up?”

I nod, striding past her to press the Up button.

“What’s upstairs?”