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If the bastard thinks he can get away with this, he’s mistaken. I get in bed, fluffing the pillow that smells like him. My body suddenly cools down. I miss the connection already. No. I shake my head. I have to stay strong. My goal is to escape.
I can’t sleep, so I slip out of bed, grabbing his jacket. I raise it to my nose, inhaling his heady scent, but I feel something hard inside. When I pluck it out, I find a key card. I pocket it. I will never succeed in killing him, but I will escape.
I open the door and come face to face with my husband.
“Not making the same mistake twice,” he says while searching the suite.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I take a step back.
“I swear, Chiara.” He rakes a hand through his hair.
“I am going to get a glass of water.”
I turn around, but he backs me into the wall, burying his face in my neck. He’s a hurricane, sweeping me off my feet, leaving the old me in debris at his feet.
“You don’t like it, do you? Not having my attention? Well, now you have it,cara. Give me the key card.”
I gulp. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You asked for it.”
He throws me over his shoulder and drops me on the bed. We both follow the key card sliding from my hand.
“A little liar.”
I try to wiggle free, but he pins me under his body, and he yanks the nightstand drawer open.
“Is that rope? And what normal person has rope in their nightstand?”
“Just for you, wife. Prepared myself for various scenarios and they all end with you tied up.”
I thrash in his arms as he ties one hand then the other. He bends over and does the same to my legs. When I almost kick him in his perfect face, I smirk.
“Good night.”
“What?” I shout while he stares at me from the foot of the bed with a pleased expression and his arms crossed.
“Untie me,” I hiss when I pull at my restraints.
“I gave you my trust, now think about how you can earn it back.”
“Fuck you.”
He turns around, and panic hits me. “Don’t leave me like this. What if someone comes inside?”
He bursts into laughter, and it’s the smug attitude that remains with me for the rest of the night.
To say I couldn’t sleep is an understatement.
I stew in my anger. I won’t hesitate a second time. He doesn’t deserve it.
***
Morning finds me disheveled, angry, and frustrated. I’ve screamed so hard in my head, I’m ready to slice Cato’s throat. He swaggers inside, only wearing a towel hung low on his hips, revealing his sculptured body, looking the opposite of how I feel—calm, in control.
“Morning,cara.”
“Fuck you.”
