AllFreeNovel
Share Us
In the end, my guilty conscience gets the best of me, and I don’t report it.
Demi does, though.
A week later, when two other anonymous reports are made with a similar story, Alistair is put on academic probation as the school opens an investigation.
And suddenly, our prank battle has become an all-out war.
Present:
It’s after midnight when I slip into the penthouse I share with Massimo. Guilt dogs my every single tip-toed step down the hall to my room, shutting the door quietly behind me.
It has nothing to do with what just happened with Alistair. It’s not misguided guilt because I’m technically married to Massimo. In no way do I think of what I just did with Alistair as “cheating”.
Cheating involves breaking a commitment and a promise. It involves betrayal.
There are none of those things in my marriage to the monster I share a home with. The man who married me against my will. Who doesn’t touch me, and who threatens me all the fucking time. The man who fucks other women in front of me expressly to humiliate me, also against my will.
The man who’s killed right in front of me.
No, what just happened with Alistair doesn’t fill me with guilt. It makes me feel alive for the first time in a freaking decade.
The guilt is over what happened after the sex.
A few days ago, Massimo cornered me in the kitchen with more threats. He wanted updates on where his father’s will was. But he also told me he wanted insider information on a big case Crown and Black is currently involved with, concerning a man named Roberto Chinellato. They’re defending him on a murder and racketeering charge.
Again, what just happened with Alistair does not make me feel guilty.
…It’s the part where Alistair went to the bathroom for a minute afterward and I noticed a file folder filled with documents pertaining to that case spilled across his office floor, having been knocked off the desk.
Documents that I quickly took a bunch of pictures of with my phone before Alistair came back, pulled me onto his lap on the sofa, and proceeded to fuck me again until I was shattering into a million pieces.
I crank the water in my shower extra hot before stepping inside. I wince, letting the heat scald me in penance for what I’ve just done.
The breaking of professional trust, not of my utterly bullshit, at-gunpoint marriage vows to a psychopath.
After a while, I turn off the water, stepping out of the steamy shower stall and reaching for a towel.
“You’re home late.”
I bite back a scream, whirling and yanking the towel over myself as I glare at Massimo. He’s smiling coldly at me, leaning against the vanity in dress pants and a button up shirt, his arms folded over his chest as he leers at me.
My face burns as I grit my teeth, angered by his intrusion. I yank the towel tighter around myself, and even reach for a second one to drape around my shoulders as a nauseous feeling curls in my stomach.
“What the fuck are you doing in here?” I spit.
“Well, it is my house,” he drawls. “And you are my wife.”
“Don’t.”
He snorts, rolling his eyes. Then his cruel gaze drops to the marks on my neck, and a slow grin curls his too-thin lips.
“My my my, what a good little whore?—”
“Shut up.”
“Do you have anything for me? Anything to show for your whorish behavior?”
My eyes narrow. “You don’t get to talk to me?—”
