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“How did you explain that?” I turned to find Marco nodding to my fist.
I didn’t. “She should be happy I let him live.”
“You’re such an idiot when it comes to Divya.”
I scowled at Marco. He was annoying the hell out of me. “You seem to have forgotten that I’m the consigliere.”
“Consigliere, yes, but still an idiot around her.”
“Don’t forget your fucking place. I wouldn’t like to find you with a hole in your head,” I warned.
Marco grinned, ignoring my dark words. “Someone’s got to tell you when you are a twat.”
“You are that,” Angelo agreed.
“I’m not a….” I reined in my anger. The woman was going to send me early to my grave, I was sure of it. I always thought it would be Cosa Nostra, but turned out it was going to be my own wife. “She’s a fucking seductress.”
“That she is,” Marco agreed.
My eyes shot to Marco. Was he jerking off to my wife? Was he eyeing her ass and imagining his dick in it? Bloody men and their dicks. Something was brewing inside of me.
“That,” Marco pointed to me, “Is exactly what I mean.”
“Get to the point,” I snarled.
“Twat,” Angelo muttered, earning him a death glare. He just grinned and slouched further in his chair. My brother never seemed to know how to sit straight in a damn chair.
“All women around you are fucking seductresses. Nothing new there. Yuliya was one of them. But Angelo,” Marco looked at his brother with confusion, “Did he beat Yuliya’s lover up?”
Angelo sat up and went into his exaggerated thinker pose. “I believe he didn’t. In fact… he didn’t even pay the dickhead a visit while she was fucking him. What was it Divya did anyway with this Harris?”
“Ah.” Marco shot him a grin. “Just a kiss.”
Just a kiss.
“That can’t be it. I mean, my brother, who has punched no one for quite some time, took to his fists for just a kiss—”
“Are you calling me a pussy?” I growled.
“Nah. But you are the fucking consigliere. Aren’t you advocating for diplomacy? Since when do you go around punching people …unless… of course… it was personal.” Marco sniggered.
“It is fucking personal,” I growled. “He came after my wife.”
“Contract wife. She’s more like an employee.”
“She’s my fucking wife,” I roared. Some days I could easily put my fist through bloody Marco’s face. Today was one of those days.
Marco and Angelo exchanged a look I wasn’t privy to. I didn’t fucking like the dynamics these two had going. I didn’t fucking like anything. I didn’t like constantly being on edge, waiting for the other shoe to drop. I didn’t like the distance with my wife. I didn’t like the bruises I had left on her the night I had fucked her all night long to stake my claim. I didn’t like the man I was around her. She was changing me, doing things to me.
“Oh man, she had you by your balls the day she walked in.” Angelo chuckled.
Like fuck she did. She didn’t have me by anything. I was in control. Which is exactly why I would decide when to tell her, if I did at all.
“I am fucking tired of you two giving me marital advice. When was the last time you were in a relationship?”
“I am swearing off women,” Angelo declared, kicking himself up out of his chair. “If I see the way Divya has you twisted and tied up, I want no part of it.”
“What am I? Some kind of rope to be twisted and tied up?”
