It’s been more than a week since I told my truth to Alexius out on the patio. Days since I laid my demons at his feet after the erotic encounter that involved his brother. He’s been avoiding me since, or so it seems. I’ve only seen him at the breakfast table if I’m early enough to catch him, and at dinner when everyone gets together. Aside from occasional stolen glances and brief exchanges each day, there has hardly been any communication.
My nights have been frostier, lonelier than usual, and I’ve barely slept. Fuck knows why I feel lonelier at night. It’s not like Alexius and I have been sharing a bed, and now he’s suddenly not there. Maybe I feel alone because I want him to be there, next to me. I want to feel him whenever I move, hear his breathing when I wake up in the middle of the night. All I think about is him, his lips, his touch, his body, the way he so easily pushes me over the edge. When I’m alone, my thoughts are filled with memories of what it’s like to be with him, to have my body come undone beneath his.
His dirty mouth. His wicked touch. The cruel games he plays. I want more of it. The poor, little masochist stray and her billionaire, sadistic husband. It’s a match made in hell, but one I’d gladly burn for.
I have no idea where his head is. Why he’s choosing to keep his distance. Maybe that’s for the best. The less contact we have, the better. This is, after all, just temporary, and I’ve already fallen in too deep with him. Alexius is a dangerous man—not because of his surname or who he is—but because of my attraction toward him. How, every time our eyes meet, my chest tightens and my body ignites. How I constantly have to press my thighs together from something as simple as watching him circle his fingertip around the brim of his whiskey glass. He’s dangerous to me. To my heart. When I’m with him, I lose direction. I have no compass when I’m around him, and his eyes become my true north—a place where I could lose my heart within a single heartbeat.
I have no idea what it is about him. He’s not a good man and has given me more reasons to hate him rather than fall for him. Yet there’s just something…something that makes me gravitate toward him. When I walk into a room, my gaze finds him first. When I wake up in the morning, he’s right there in my thoughts, and I keep thinking, hoping that this will be the day he’ll finally come for me again.
I want him to. But I don’t.
I want him to touch me. But I don’t want to become addicted.
I want him to kiss me. But I don’t want to live for his taste.
I want him to fuck me…but I don’t want to fall.
Maybe it’s already too late. The tug in my chest is stronger than ever when I think of him. But I choose to ignore it. At least, I try to. The last thing I need is to let my fantasies of him and a future morph into something this marriage is not. Real.
Mirabella has been a lifeline to me in this house. Alexius asked her to arrange a secret anniversary party for his parents, and she has gone out of her way to include me. It’s a fun distraction, planning a romantic celebration with the resources only the Del Rossa name can supply and with the freedom of an unlimited budget. It’s a welcome escape from my own thoughts that seem permanently dominated by piercing blue eyes.
Mr. Del Rossa’s illness weakens him by the day, and he hardly comes out of his bedroom anymore. Maybe that’s part of the reason Alexius hasn’t been around much. Perhaps he’s already grieving the loss that will soon shake the foundation of this entire family. Alexius is a strong man, but grief has the power to bring monsters to their knees. Grief exposes weakness, and I can only imagine how hard it can be on a man like Alexius—a man who prides himself on strength, confidence, power.
I don’t know what to think, or what to believe is true. The variables in our relationship are endless, and my mind is constantly running in circles.
It’s cold today—the first real bite of winter with the faint pitter-patter of rain against the windows. It’s one of those days when I could easily stay in bed the whole day with nothing but chips and Snickers Bar papers littering the sheets, watching some sappy love story on the Hallmark Channel, preferably one where the girl gets the guy in the end.
But that’s not the plan for today. Today, I need to star in the role I have come here to play. Alexius’ wife.
The dress Mirabella picked for me is probably my favorite so far. It’s a champagne-colored satin cocktail dress with a high neckline, a pleated skirt, and hem that touches just above my knees, with a see-through lace down the back. My hair is styled in an elegant updo, with not a single curl falling out of place. The nude stiletto heels give me the lift I need not to have to hurt my neck every time I look up at Alexius.
It’s our first public engagement we’ll be attending as a married couple. It’s his uncle’s birthday, and since his parents can’t be there, all four brothers have been instructed to make an appearance—Alexius the only one permitted to bring a plus-one. His wife. This family, especially the brothers, is a diverse force. It’s like they can shed their skin. As the Dark Sovereign, they are a united front, disciplined, stately, and follow the rules as if it defines them. But as brothers, as men, they all seem to thrive on breaking rules and revel in chaos.
It’s a beautiful contradiction, really. Their ability to both keep and lose control.
There’s a knock on the door, and in typical Alexius fashion, he doesn’t wait for an invitation before he walks in. “Are you ready?”
I turn to face him, no longer fazed by the entitlement that seeps through his actions every now and then. “I am.”
He scans down my body with liquid, brilliant eyes, and I’m not sure if it’s approval or apprehension I see flash in his eyes. “You look…beautiful.” Approval.
“Thank you. You look quite dapper yourself.” I smile, appreciating how handsome he looks in his slate gray suit and matching tie. Alexius is always impeccably dressed, his appearance never short of perfect. Dark strands are styled back, the blue collar of his shirt complementing the hues of his eyes. He flicks his tongue across his sensuous lips, and my heart skips a beat, knowing how they feel against mine. It’s a sin for a man without a heart to have the face of an angel and the power of a god.
I grab my purse and white shawl, draping it over my shoulders, and when I look back up at him, his eyes flash with something…warm. Something profound and unguarded. There’s a shift between us, a subtle shake within the space that keeps us apart. I can’t explain it. I’m not even sure I want to. All I know is…I can feel it.
It’s different. Disarming. Genuine.
The intensity is too much, and I’m too vulnerable, so I rip through the magic by looking away, my pulse racing as I reach for the spot behind my ear. Staring into his eyes makes me forget how to breathe, and I feel like I’m drowning, gasping for air.
My stomach coils when Alexius steps up, leaving no space for oxygen around me as he comes so damn close, taking my wrist gently between his fingers. “Don’t.” He eases my arm back down but doesn’t let go of my hand. “You don’t have to be nervous. You’ll do great. I don’t doubt it for a second.”
There are so many things I could say. A million words can jump from my tongue. But I remain silent, choosing to suffocate rather than sever the spell with words that can never articulate what it is I’m feeling for this man. The sexual tension is a tightrope beneath my feet, and I don’t fear the fall. I anticipate it. I want it. I want him.
My lips tingle in need of a kiss, and all I want is for him to close the last breath of distance between us. To kiss me. Touch me. To soothe the ache I’ve felt since he claimed me for the first time.
The brush of his fingertip along the top of my hand sends ripples of sensation up my arm. It’s in his eyes, the conflict buried between hard lines of resilience and blue billows of lust. He’s fighting it, and I have no idea why. But seeing that internal struggle, seeing him battle against the desire, only makes me want him more. I want to witness him lose the fight and unravel with me as we did before.
He leans closer, and I want him to kiss me. I can already feel his lips and taste his tongue. I close my eyes, waiting for the one thing I want most, but disappointment floats from my lips with a single exhale as he kisses my cheek instead.
“Come on.” He takes a step back. “The sooner we get there, the sooner we can leave.”
Entranced, I shake the fog from my mind. “You’re not looking forward to your uncle’s birthday party?”
“Uncle Roberto is the one thing that’s wrong with this entire family. The man is a fucking rat, and the only reason I haven’t kicked his ass into the gutter is because of my father’s promise to my grandfather.”
“What did he promise?”
“To always keep the two families united. No matter what.”
I hook my arm into his elbow, and we walk out of the room into the hall. “What did he do that makes you dislike him so much?”
“He’s a jealous motherfucker who wants to change things that aren’t his to change. His greed controls him, and he ruins everything he touches. His own damn son saw it and left before his dad could ruin him, too.” Alexius glances at me. “Stay close today. Do not leave my side, and you avoid my uncle at any cost. Understood?”
Barbed wire tightens around my insides. “Understood.”
Alexius
I can’t keep my eyes off her. I leave her alone for one damn second to get a drink, and every person with a penis gravitates to her. Not that I blame them. The woman oozes more confidence than I’ve ever seen on her, and her elegance is staggering. I’m amazed by her transformation. It’s like she was born for the role. Born to be my wife.
Born for me to keep.
The way she glides through the crowd so effortlessly with her confident smile and carefully-picked words. Every woman in the room enjoys her attention while every man wants to stand near her, seemingly captivated by the conversation. They’re practically hanging from her lips, and I’m torn between wanting to cut their eyes out or split their spine in two.
Often, she looks in my direction and touches behind her ear every time our eyes meet. I make her nervous, not the crowd or the wealth she’s surrounded with, because not once has she reached for her scar whenever her attention is gripped with conversation. It’s only when she looks at me that something passes between us through single glances.
God, it’s torture keeping my distance from her. Knowing she lives under the same roof, sleeping in a room down the hall, makes the temptation so much stronger. Whenever she calls it a night and retires to her room, I wonder if she’ll be taking a bath, if she’ll be making herself come while she thinks of me, of how good it feels to fuck. My mind is constantly infected by her, and this sexual attraction that burns through my loins every minute of every goddamn day is growing into an obsession I can’t afford. But I try…I try to stay away because now that I know why she’s so conflicted over her desires and the sex, it fucks with my head. Leandra went from a stray to a temptress—a sexual fucking enigma that still has my dick in a twist. But now she’s also that little girl, locked in a bathroom, hungry, cold, alone, while her parents have sex parties with strangers. Her fucking apartment was club Myth—her parents running their own goddamn sex club with drugs and alcohol.
Now, I don’t just want to fuck her. I want to protect her. I want to right the wrongs that have been done to her, which puts me in dangerous territory. It’s paving my way to a place where I’m not going to want to give her up when our deal is done.
And that. Can’t. Happen. Yet it seems like I can’t stop it. Knowing she’s only ever had my cock, that she’s never been claimed by anyone but me, it has possession knocking at my bones, demanding I keep her. But how the fuck am I supposed to do that? This is just a bargain, a temporary arrangement that will end the moment my dad takes his last breath. And by the looks of it, that will be too fucking soon. I didn’t even want this in the first place, treating her like a dog on a leash because of something I was forced to do. Now, here I am, thinking of her moans, her cries, the beautiful arch of her back as she comes.
God, I have to have her again. That tight pussy of hers clamping down on my cock, her body wanting me deeper. I want to witness her innocence wither beneath my touch, her purity corrupted by my dick plunging into her. Jesus.
“Why do you look like you’re about to sexually assault the oyster table?” Nicoli shifts next to me, and I reluctantly tear my gaze from my wife.
“Please tell me it’s been at least two hours since we got here and that we can fucking leave now.”
Nicoli looks at his Rolex. “I’d say we should give it another half-hour, then we can fuck off. She’s doing good,” he says, nodding in Leandra’s direction. “The guests love her. It’s like she fits right in.”
“Yeah.” I grit my teeth.
“I don’t know how you do it, man.”
“How he does what?” Caelian joins us, his eyebrows curved in a curious frown.
“How Alexius here manages to keep his hands off his wife. She’s fucking gorgeous.” Nicoli emphasizes gorgeous knowing it’ll probably piss me off.
“Yeah,” Caelian agrees, staring at Leandra in a way that I sure as fuck do not appreciate. “She’s definitely not the poor girl you brought home a few weeks ago. She’s blossomed…in a sexy as fuck kind of way.”
“Yes, and you’re both assholes.” I take a large gulp of whiskey, needing the sting of alcohol to slake the jealousy that’s like concrete in my stomach.
I don’t like the way my brothers are looking at her like she’s on fucking auction, and they’re deciding how deep they’ll reach into their pockets to bid on her. They aren’t even trying to be subtle in how they admire her in front of me. Their cocks are probably already dripping pre-cum in their pants.
Fuckers.
“Stop,” I demand, clutching my glass of whiskey tighter between my fingers. “Get your fucking dicks back in your pants, and stop staring at my wife as if you want her goddamn legs to fall open.”
“Now, there’s a thought.” Nicoli smirks then covers it with his drink, taking a sip. “Oh, look. Even Uncle Roberto is taken by her.”
My nostrils flare as I watch him stand close to her, practically hanging on to her lips as she speaks.
He looks in my direction, and our eyes meet. There’s a smugness to him, the way his lips curl at the edges, his eyes glinting with malicious intent. Still keeping eye contact, he touches her elbow. For everyone else, it looks innocent, a friendly gesture. To me, it looks like a dangerous game he’s playing, one he knows will fuck with my head.
My top lip lifts in a snarl, and all I see is red. I don’t want him anywhere near her. I don’t want any man near her. The room practically smells like fucking testosterone, and my vision zones in on every set of eyes that look in her direction. I don’t even notice the women anymore. All I see are suits and ties, whiskey glasses and cufflinks, men capable of the filthiest, most vile thoughts. Every fucker here should be glad I can’t read minds. I will peel their spines from their bodies if there’s just a glimpse of my wife’s face in their thoughts.
“Do none of these assholes know she’s my wife? They’re all practically drooling down her neck.”
“You’re exaggerating.” Nicoli snorts. “They are not drooling down her neck, Alexius. My God, relax. Your boner for this woman is making you paranoid.”
Isaia comes up behind me. “Who has a boner?”
“Jesus Christ,” I growl. “You three better sleep with one eye open because I’m this close—” I hold my thumb and forefinger close together “—to cutting your motherfucking balls off.”
They erupt with laughter, and I down the rest of my drink before slamming my glass onto the side table next to me. “I’m leaving.”
“Hey,” Nicoli calls after me. “We said another half-hour.”
“I don’t give a fuck. I’m taking my wife home. Now.”
