Page 32 of The Mafia Marriage Contract

“Almost,” I say. “But I need something else.”

Her eyes widen. “Thought as much. You’re not getting your dick out just because you slapped some bandages on my knees.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, princess.” Ilean in so close that I can practically taste her glossy pink lips. “You made a big fucking mistake this morning, Livvie.”

“What are you talking about?” she says, hugging her arms around herself.

“We don’t do secrets.”

I straighten and turn away, gathering her discarded, torn leggings, then unzip the little pouch on the back of the waistband. When my fingers pluck out the small black USB stick, she gasps.

“H-how did you?—?”

“Why did Roman give this to you? What is it?” I purposely keep my voice low even though I want to yell so loud I shatter her goddamn eardrums.

But no. Control is the name of this fucking game.

“He didn’t s-say,” she stammers, scrambling off the stool.

“Bullshit,” I say, stalking back toward her and holding the flash drive between us. “You think Roman’s your friend? Your great protector? He’s just playing you. You’re a goddamn pawn, Livvie. Stop using your ass as a hat and see things for what they really are. For fucking once.”

There are mere inches between us and the tension is so thick I could choke on it, my feet rooted where I stand.

She stares at me, conflict glowing in her gaze. Her cheeks are a pretty pink flush, her teeth sinking into her lower lip. In that moment my eyes betray me, sliding down the length of her bare milky thighs. My fingers tingle with the urge to stroke the soft skin, my mouth watering at the thought of feasting on her tight little pussy.

That same pussy I pumped cum into during our wedding party. And fuck, that was better than I everimagined. Who knew hate fucks with a wife would be the best fuck.

Livvie creeps closer, seemingly captivated by the dangerous net of temptation that’s hovered over us like a dark, ominous cloud ever since we said “I do.”

Rather than tease my wife until she’s wet, I pull away and turn on my heel. Livvie betrayed me. She’s keeping secrets and sneaking around behind my back. And that fucker Roman won’t get anywhere near what’s mine again.

Because that’s exactly what she is.

My wife.Mine.

And if she thinks I don’t see what’s going on, then she’ll fucking learn the hard way.

11

LIVVIE

I stir to warm sunlight flooding in through big windows. At first, I think I’m dreaming. Then reality has me checking the other side of the bed.

It’s empty because I slept alone.

Kingston’s voice is a murmur, coming from another room in his penthouse.

I throw back the covers and put my bare feet on the carpet as I slip out of bed. The early sunshine paints the room in a golden haze, but it does nothing to soothe my loneliness.

Dressed in an oversized T-shirt, I leave the suite and pad along the hallway, my footfalls not making a sound.

His voice grows louder the closer I get to his office because the door is ajar. Choosing not to disturb him, I hover outside and peer through the gap.

Kingston has his back to me, shoulders rigid, phone pressed to his ear. He’s wearing only black slacks and nothing else, except for a sleeve of tattoos.

There’s a pause as if he's listening to the caller, then his tone chills the air surrounding him.

“You have twenty-four hours to find out who targeted us on our wedding day.” His hand tightens around the phone. “Even if it was meant for my wife, they’ll fucking die for daring to come for what’s mine.”