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“Fuck you.”
“Wouldn’t that be nice?” I roll my hips into her arse. I’m turned on. That’s what weeks without release will do to a man.
“Fuck off.”
“Oh, baby, there will be no fucking off.” I reach around the front of her and clench her cheeks, directing her face to mine. Her eyes fall to my scar. I can feel it pulsing. “I suggest you get your arse back to the table.”
“Else what?”
“I’m already close to a killing spree, baby. Don’t make that happen in this lovely restaurant in front of these lovely people.”
Eyes wide, Rose glances around the silent room. All attention’s on us.
“Are you okay, ma’am?” a man asks over the sound of his seat being pushed out. I keep my eyes on my wife. The alternative won’t work out well for the man.
“I’m fine,” Rose says, smiling, before returning her blue gaze to mine. I back up, releasing her from the door. I don’t need to tell her again. Whether that be to save the bystander or herself, I couldn’t give a fuck. She walks back through the silent restaurant and calmly lowers to the chair.
I not so calmly dump my arse down on my seat. Not surprisingly, the waiter keeps his distance. “You think I’d put my dick in another woman?”
“You said?—”
“That I put my dick in another woman? No, Rose. You told yourself I put my dick in another woman.”
She wilts before my eyes, peeking around the restaurant. It’s still quiet. Could not give a fuck. In fact, I hope Mr. Do-Gooder speaks up again because I’ve got the urge to hit something. I slam my fist on the table. “I would never put my dick in another fucking woman, Rose.” I grab the napkin again and roughly wipe myself down as she shrinks farther and farther into her chair. I slam that onto the table too, my temper showing no signs of cooling. She actually thinks I could do that? I stand, cup myself, and thrust forward. “This cock is yours, Rose. It’ll only ever be in your mouth. Only ever in your cunt.”
She coughs over her surprise, having another look around the restaurant. “Okay,” she says, willing me to sit down.
“Tell me you understand,” I demand, oblivious to our crowd, my hand still holding myself. “Now.”
She looks me directly in the eye. “I understand.”
“Good. Don’t ever question me again.” I sit and neck my wine. Fuck it. It couldn’t get any worse than my wife thinking I could betray her like that. Let’s get this over with. “Sandy’s not dead.” I sneer at her as she balks at me. “I told you I’d killed him because I didn’t want you to worry.”
“What?”
“You fucking heard me, Rose.”
I see the temperature in her cheeks rising. “What?” she yells.
Oh goody. Here comes round two. I hold up my wine glass. “More wine please, Francesco.”
“Are you fucking joking?”
“No, baby. I’m deadly serious.” About the wine and Sandy. “He’s still alive, and I don’t know where the fuck he is, but when I find him, I’m going to slice him open with a blunt, rusty razor blade and let him bleed out slowly.” I snatch the wine off Francesco and drink straight from the bottle, gasping for air once I’ve swallowed. “Well, this is going well, isn’t it?”
Her nostrils flaring, she stands. “I fucking hate you.” And stomps off, leaving me fighting to rein myself in.
Can’t.
I dive up and stalk after her, armed with my wine, catching her at the door again. I don’t see this one coming, maybe because the red mist is hampering my vision. She turns, swings, and cracks me straight on the nose, and blood bursts from it. “Fuck,” I hiss, dropping the bottle and clenching my nose. I can’t even tell her that was uncalled for. She heaves before me, displaying no remorse whatsoever. I feel psycho. She looks psycho. Two fucking psychos. I wrap a hand around her throat and push her up against the door, getting up in her face. “I think we both need to calm the fuck down before our kids end up orphans.”
“Fuck you,” she hisses, holding my hand on her throat, squeezing. Goading. Standard.
I get my face closer and rub my nose up her cheek. “You—” I feel a pair of hands on my shoulders, and I’m suddenly hauled back, the sharp move jarring Rose, making her cough when my hand yanks on her neck. I hit the deck, back first, and choke on impact, thoroughly winded.
Fuck.
Blinking up at the ceiling, disorientated, I hear the echoing of gasps ringing around the restaurant. “What the fuck?” I wheeze, craning my head to find Rose. She looks worried.
