Page 64

Andrei walks in drenched in sweat, wearing workout clothes, his T-shirt clinging to his broad chest and shoulders like he just came from the gym. He looks rougher, more primal than usual and still unfairly handsome. The sight of him should not affect me right now.

Before I can think better of it, I lunge at him hard.

“You bastard!” I scream, fists flying. “You psychotic, controlling asshole!”

He catches me easily around the waist and pulls me flush against his chest like I weigh nothing.

“Good morning, wife,” he says smoothly, a hint of amusement in his voice. “I see you slept well.”

His casual tone makes me see red.

I start smacking his chest with both hands. “You drugged me!” I shriek. “You actually drugged me and then tattooed my skin while I was unconscious! I told you I didn’t want any tattoos and you did it anyway!”

Andrei doesn’t even flinch. He simply looks down at me and shrugs.

“No. If I remember correctly, you said the only way you’d ever get a tattoo is if you were drugged.” Another casual shrug. “So… I accommodated you.”

I feel like I’m about to lose my mind.

“So you decided to drug me?!” I scream, voice cracking with disbelief. “Are you insane? I can’t believe you!”

I try to hit him again, but he grabs both of my wrists in one large hand, holding them firmly against his chest.

“As much as I enjoy having your hands all over me,” he says calmly, “you need to stop before you hurt yourself.”

“I’m going to kill you,” I hiss through gritted teeth.

He actually chuckles, low and dark. “I know you don’t know how to shoot a gun, so a knife is probably your best bet.” He nods toward his leg. “There’s one strapped to my calf right now if you want it.”

I stare at him, completely shocked by his nonchalance.

I yank my hands free and he lets me go without resistance.

“You’re a monster,” I spit. “It’s illegal to drug someone and tattoo them against their will!”

Andrei quirks one dark brow, looking almost bored.

“What are you going to do then?” he asks, voice dripping with mockery. “Report me to the police?”

I pause, breathing hard, fists clenched at my sides, staring up at the man I am now legally married to. I have never wanted to murder someone more in my entire life.

I know I can’t actually go to the police. He probably has half of New York’s police department in his pocket. Reporting him would be useless. Besides what do I tell them? My mafia husband drugged and tattooed his name on me?

Andrei watches me, reading every thought crossing my face.

“So I take it you no longer want to stab or kill me?” he asks, the corner of his mouth twitching.

I lift my chin, refusing to back down. “Oh, I’m still going to kill you. Quite alright. I’m just going to do it in your sleep. So you’d better sleep with one eye open from now on.”

He throws his head back and laughs, a deep, rich, genuine laugh that fills the room and does something stupid to my chest. I hate that I like the sound of it. I hate that it makes my stomach flutter even while I’m furious with him.

He finally stops, still smiling as he looks at me. “I’ll keep that in mind, wife.”

Then his expression shifts back to that calm, commanding mask. “While you’re busy thinking of creative ways to murder me, our daughter is waiting downstairs to have breakfast with her parents. So if you’ll excuse me,” he says, already reaching for his shirt, “I need to take a shower.”

He starts undressing right there in front of me, completely unbothered.

I open my mouth to keep arguing, but the words die instantly when he pulls his shirt off.