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When I look at her, I don’t feel the hatred I should feel or the need to punish her.
She tries to escape my grasp, yet all I can focus on are those soulful eyes and those shiny, kiss-worthy lips.
All mine.
Even when she doesn’t want to be mine.
I have her body. I have her finger and her crown.
But what I don’t have is her heart.
I will fucking make it mine, no matter what it takes.
When we’re finally home, I help her out of the car and carry her in my arms to the front door of the building. Her body is still covered in blood, and the receptionist does a double take when she spots us.
“She’s fine. Call off the rest of my men,” I say.
She nods and immediately picks up the phone while I step into the elevator.
I’ll have to up security around and inside the building.
Don’t want her trying these dangerous fucking things again. The streets aren’t safe for rich mobsters like us. People from all sides want our lives. Our families have too much blood on their hands.
“You don’t have to carry me,” she mutters under her breath. “I’m not made of porcelain.”
I look down into her big eyes and the spats of blood on her cheeks. Too much filth for a porcelain doll.
“I’m carrying you because I want to,” I reply.
She starts to blush and looks away.
As the elevator reaches my floor, I march through the hallway and slam the door to my penthouse shut with my foot before heading straight to my biggest bathroom. It’s a separate room from the one in my bedroom with a big bath, a sauna, and a massage area.
I set her down on a wooden lounge chair near the massage table and go to my knees in front of her to inspect her thoroughly. I take off her shoes to look at her feet, then check underneath her skirt to make sure there are no wounds … because if there are … I will cut down every last one of those motherfucker’s family members as well.
“I’m not hurt,” she says, fumbling with her dress. “I just feel so …” She shudders. “Icky.”
“C’mon,” I say, and I get up while lifting the dress. “Let’s get this off you.”
She stands up momentarily so I can peel away the dress, but when I throw it in a corner, she wobbles again so I ease her back down. “Easy there.” I make sure she won’t get up again by throwing her the look. “Sit.”
She licks her lips and averts her eyes while tucking her hair behind her ear, but I can tell she’s hiding. Especially when she covers her body with her arms. Even though there is nothing that I haven’t already seen, she’s still trying to hide.
Sighing, I go to the bath and turn on the faucet to fill it up with warm water.
Grabbing her hands, I make her stand. I lower myself until I’m at her waist and peel down her underwear, the last remaining piece of fabric. As it touches the floor, her thighs erupt into goose bumps.
The dress is ruined, but she still looks as gorgeous as she ever did, especially from this level. Still as appetizing as ever, and the mere sight of her naked flesh and soft pussy makes me want to bite and lick.
But I contain myself and focus on getting her into the bath and grabbing a sponge to clean her with.
“Why are you doing this?” she asks after a while.
I pause mid-stroke with the sponge and let it rest on her arm. “You’re my wife. It’s not just my duty to seduce you. It’s my job to take care of every part of you.”
There come the goose bumps again and that same blush covering her entire face.
She looks away, but I softly grab her collar and make her look at me. “You think I’m a monster, but the real monsters are out there.”
Her eyes fill with tears. “You just came to get your toy back.”
My grip on her collar tightens as I kneel beside the bath. “You are more than a toy to me.”
“How? When you try to show me off to my family by playing with me under the table and in the bathroom just so they know I’m yours?”
“Not just them,” I reply. “I want you to know as well. And I want you to know that I’m not letting you go. No matter how hard you try, I will not let go of what belongs to me.”
She sucks in a breath, biting her bottom lip. She’s trying so hard not to let it affect her that it physically hurts to watch.
“Why do you care so much?” she asks. “You could’ve married any other girl. Any one of them would’ve fallen to their knees for you.”
