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It actually worked out better for me. If he got a hard-on in the middle of the night, he could take care of it himself without waking me up for a quickie. I got uninterrupted sleep, he got off, and we were both happy—until he walked out on me, of course.
Now, fifteen years later, Link is acting like he still has my permission to just shove his dick inside of me whenever he wants.
And, well, he does, doesn’t he? From the moment I said ‘I do’ and signed my name on our marriage license, I’m his…
For life, he said. ‘Til death do us part, and all because I killed a man tonight.
As that thought races through my mind, the reminder banishing the last of my slumber, Link shifts in his seat. His palm runs over the top of my head, stroking my hair. It’s a gentle caress at odds with how hard he took me in the bathroom, and I’m not so sure how to reconcile this side of Link with the boy I knew.
Then he murmurs, “Rise and shine, pet. We’re home,” and I stop worrying about it.
Oh, no. I have something else to focus on now.
After pulling myself up into a sitting position, I peer out of the tinted window and swallow roughly.
Now, I knew I wouldn’t be returning to my house. As quick as our impromptu wedding was, it’s barely been three hours since the phone call that changed my life. Is that enough time for a bunch of gangsters to “take care” of Joey’s corpse and the blood spattered all over my carpet? I doubt it, and I figured I wouldn’t go tomyhome.
This must be Link’s, and since I’m his wife now, I guess it’s mine, too.
“Oh.” I almost crawl into Link’s lap, trying to get a peek at the building we’ve pulled up at. “You live here?”
He rests his hand possessively on my ass. “We do,” he says, proving me right. “The penthouse is ours.”
The Paradise Suites North in Springfield is the tallest building in the city. Visitors might think it’s a fancy hotel, and they’re not wrong. The bottom half boasts rooms for the night that cost half as much as my mortgage, while the top is made up of luxury apartments for the well-to-do who pretend parts of Springfield—specifically the East End and West Side—aren’t a dark, dangerous underworld.
And Link, one of the most dangerous of all according to his reputation, owns thepenthouse.
Before I can say anything to that, someone opens his door. Beneath the glow of lights that illuminate the building no matter what time it is, I see a man a couple of years younger than me. He’s good-looking in a slick sort of way, with styled blond hair, icy blue eyes, and a dimple in his left cheek as he grins down at us. Like Link, he’s in a suit, though his is better tailored to his leaner frame.
“Been waiting for you, boss.”
“Is everything ready inside?”
He nods.
Link hasn’t moved his hand from my ass. With his friend watching us closely, he squeezes me. “Let me introduce you to my underboss, pet. This is Royce McIntyre, second of all Sinners.”
He smiles at me, a hint of a flirting tease there when he says, “You can call me ‘Rolls’.”
“She’ll call you Royce,” Link says firmly. “And if you don’t stop flirting with my wife, you’ll refer to her as Mrs. Crewes until you get it through your fucking skull that Ava is mine.”
Oh my God. For years, I wanted nothing more than for him to claim me, but not like this. Not when I traded my hand for his protection, or when I’m his last option to have a kid before the syndicate decides he shouldn’t lead them any longer.
Looking at Royce, I can’t imagine him ever turning on Link. His entire expression changed when Link snapped at him, and while he still exudes a friendly manner, all flirtatiousness disappears instantly.
“You should’ve warned me. I didn’t know this was Ava.”
Link snorts. “The wedding dress didn’t give it away?” He pats my ass this time, and if I wasn’t afraid of offending him in front of his second, I would’ve sat down on the seat so he’d stop touching me like he owns me. I know he does, but still… “Royce is the one who brought it over for you. The ring, too.”
Am I supposed to thank him for helping Link force me into marrying him? Sure, I agree, but it’s not like I had any other choice—and considering he was probably there to held with “clean-up”, he knows exactly why.
I don’t thank him, though I do wave shyly over at him.
Link nods in approval at my greeting. Finally, he drops his hand, but only because he slides out of the car. With a gesture, he motions for me to do the same.
Grabbing the skirt on my dress, I shuffle my way out.
“Royce is going to bring you upstairs,” Link tells me. “And your bags,” he adds, and though he wasn’t addressing the other man, Royce immediately heads over to the trunk where the driver threw my luggage inside. Once he’s out of sight, Link lifts his hand, running his thumb along the edge of my jaw. “Be a good girl for him, okay?”
