AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He whispered words to me in between kisses. I loved his language. It sounded magical, although today it sounded harsh. It was probably because of the mood I was in, desperate to get him inside me and hold him tight.
Adam's call brought with it the realisation of how much more my enthrallment was with my husband. My relationship with Adam was immature compared to what I had with Antonio, one-sided as it was. I just desperately wanted to hang on to it a bit longer before he finally decided to break it off. Even though I realised buying a sofa would not help to make a claim on him. The sofa would stay. One day I would have to leave.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
ANTONIO
It was a strange type of man who tried to steal another man’s woman. But a man who tried to steal my woman was neither strange nor a man.
Acid filled my throat as I watched the story unfold before my eyes. When bloody fucking Harris leaned over to give my wife a kiss on her cheek, a vein burst somewhere in my body. I didn’t miss the fact that he did it in my own living room. Nor that she didn’t bother to push him away. But when, instead of staying in the living room where Rosa was, they moved to the garden, venom swirled inside my brain. It was a fucking joke. Coming from me, who was supposed to be the diplomat. But she was mine, and Harris was in the way.
Without a hitch, I switched to the surveillance camera of the garden. When Armando had called to request permission to allow fucking Harris into my home, I should have refused. But like the masochist that I clearly was, I had granted it, wanting to see what would happen.
I didn’t care for what was happening.
They were standing too fucking close. From this angle, I could only see Harris’s face. I wondered if Divya’s was flushed like it was with me. Were her pupils dilated, the greens in her eyes hidden, like when she was turned on?
There was no doubt that it was a passionate conversation, given the body language, while passion should be nowhere around these two. Why had my fucking wife not kicked out this deficienti immediately?
Isabella walked in through the door, book in hand.
“Not now,” I snarled, making her startle and scurry back out.
I didn’t have any fucking time for anything else. Like a man waiting for his verdict, I watched the two. Harris sat down on the sun lounger and dragged my wife along, their knees touching. The same sun lounger where I had fucked her a few days ago. She was obviously not thinking about that now. The fucker had his arms around her, and he was pulling her close. A rage I hadn’t known I possessed flushed through me like a red-hot bolt when he stuck his lips to hers. This was no friendly peck. The dumb son of a bitch had his tongue down her throat, and my wife was not pushing him away. The kiss lasted a full damn minute. I slammed my screen, hoping it had frozen, but no, the image was fine. My wife’s brain not so much.
Eventually, she shot away from him, words spilling out of her, none of which I could fathom. Harris rose, reaching for her, and she moved away.
Too fucking late.
I watched them go back inside, following the images through every room till he was out of the house.
A fool. A man who tried to steal my woman was clearly a fucking fool who didn’t care for his own life.
Releasing my clenched fist, I punched in the number for Marco.
“Get the car ready tonight.”
I lounged in the back with Marco and Remo in the front. The tight muscles on my thighs made a mockery out of my laid-back attitude.
The bar door opened to reveal the noise and light from inside and spewed out a stumbling Harris. I gave a nod to Marco and watched him exit the car and approach Harris. At this time of the night, only drunks lined the street. Satisfaction hummed in my body when Marco delivered a welcome punch to Harris and dragged him to the side alley.
Taking my time, I slid out of the car and followed in their footsteps. One heavy, the other dragged. When I arrived, Harris had earned himself several more hits to his gut.
Walking over, I stood in front of him. I let my eyes run over him, the fool who kissed my wife.
“Who the fuck are you?” Harris sputtered out.
As an introduction, I punched his face right in the middle, breaking his nose with a loud crack and taking one eye socket with me, my wedding ring leaving a sharp cut across his face. I wanted him deformed for the rest of his life.
I gave him time to reel back from my punch and stop his pitiful groaning before I leaned over, putting my voice in front of his mouth. “She’s mine, you fucker.”
“That bitch,” he yelled into my face, earning him another punch in his eye socket. I didn’t like the words coming out of his mouth. But then again, there really was no surprise there.
Harris groaned, grabbing hold of his eye but continued, alcohol making him brave or born a moron.
“Is this why she doesn’t want to come back? My money not enough for the bitch? But apparently, you have more.”
I rocked on my feet. There wasn’t a shred of will in my body that bothered to answer him.
