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“Why don’t we start with a few simple, introductory questions.” He made the effort to look Antonio and I in the eyes before continuing. “So tell me what you both would like back in your relationship.”
“The romance.” Antonio answered and I scoffed. Oh please.
“Do you disagree with that, Mrs.. De Luca? Or does your answer differ?”
I merely shook my head, insisting it was nothing and he continued.
“How much time do you spend together?”
Antonio answered with rapid speed, irking my soul. “Not nearly enough.”
The green plants resting beside Dr. West’s desk caught my attention because it was far more interesting than what we had going on.
“And how often do you have sex?”
My head snapped back to Dr. West. “Excuse me?” I almost choked.
“What?” Antonio murmured, practically just as confused.
“Let me rephrase. How often would you like to have sex.”
We answered in unison.
“Never.”
“Eight to nine times a week.”
My head whipped to Antonio but he was still looking at Dr. West, slowly nodding to reaffirm his answer. Eight to nine?
“Okay.” Dr. West jotted something down, slowly lifting his eyes to us. “You said never, Mrs. De Luca.” He focused his attention on me. “Could you elaborate on why you say that?”
My mouth went dry, and I could feel the taunt radiating off Antonio. He was enjoying this too goddamn much. I’m certain Dr. West wasn’t aware of our marriage… arrangement.
I shifted in the same spot, straightening my spine. “No.” I shook my head.
“So neither of you can present a reason as to why you’re not having sex. What’s stopping you then?”
Again, we answered in unison.
“Her face repulses me.”
“His dick is too small.”
My nails dug into the smooth leather armrest at his answer, and I noticed his fingers curling into a fist at my answer.
Antonio cleared his throat. “She used to work at a strip club. I don’t think my size is the issue here.”
I shrugged. “Still can’t make me come.”
His tongue brushed the inside of his cheek, his eyes still on Dr. West. “She sings a different tune when I’m inside her.”
“Like you said… I worked at a strip club.” My head slowly turned to him. “I’ve perfected the art of putting on a show.” I leaned over to whisper.
“Moving on.” Dr. West cleared his throat, clearly trying to cut this conversation short. “So why don’t you tell me how and when the two of you met?”
“Oh, you mean the day he showed up to my house, threatened my father then wanted to take me as his wife as payment?”
Dr. West blinked.
