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“You don’t need to reiterate your lack of attraction or interest in me because of my race, Augustine. I get the point.”
His eyes flicker to mine angrily.
“Do you always have to talk back? I don’t remember signing up for a wife who talks back.”
“I don’t remember signing up for an asshole husband.”
He scoffs. “You sold your body for money, I don’t think you expected Prince Charming.”
I amdrunkas hell because I hop my ass off the counter, march right up to Augustine and smack him straight across the face just as he is about to take a big drink of his beer. I smack the beer clear across the kitchen and the can clatters to the ground as Augustine grabs my wrist instinctively, squeezing so hard that I cry out in pain. Beer splatters everywhere.
He looks like he’s going to beat my ass. My heart races. Those demon blue eyes are fixed on me.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he snarls.
“How dare you throw that in my face! You’re the loser who bought a wife off the goddamn internet. I have debt because I’m educated. Why are you doing this? I bet your big white tree-looking ass has a fucking micropenis.”
Hi, I’m Trinity. And my mouth has a habit of getting me into problems that my ass can’t handle. The white man death-gripping my wrist turns fucking purple. I have never seen such terrifying Caucasian shit in my life and my chest seizes up like a damn hippo fell asleep on my ribcage.
“What the fuck did you just say to me?” Augustine roars. He’s just as drunk as I am and I can feel his emotions heightening along with mine. I have one hand free and a good mind to slap him again or scratch him until I get free.
“I said you probably have a micropenis,” I sneer at him, wanting to cut him deep. Fuck, maybe I’m right and I’m going to activate the serial killer behind the icy blue eyes.
But Augustine just smirks and runs his tongue over his lips, nearly making contact with his beard and mustache.
“Trust me, my lovely wife, my cock would split your little cunt in half. Don’t fucking test me or I’ll make you find out just how big it is.”
With that he lets go of my hand and I am so damn surprised. I don’t know what the hell runs through my head. My instincts are telling me not to smack him again and to play it cool until he passes out so I can run away. But something about the smug look on his face and the words that spill out of his mouth take my sense away.
I smack him again.
He clutches his face and turns on me blind with rage.
“Is that what this will be then? You’re just going to hit me?”
“Maybe,” I say to him rudely.
“Get your ass upstairs,” he snarls. “Because if I hit you back…”
His chest heaves with rage and he turns that terrifying shade of purple again. “Justgo to bed,” he says. “I’m too drunk to handle your feisty fucking ass. I’ll sleep downstairs.”
“Good,” I yell at him. “I don’t want you or your damn drunk ass micropenis near me anyway.”
“Get out,” he roars.
“I’m fucking leaving, asshole!” I yell at him and then I storm past him, amazed the dogs haven’t woken up and bitten my leg off for yelling at their owner. Maybe they know he’s an asshole. I stomp up the stairs as loudly as possible, hoping I make the damn house sink into the ground just to inconvenience Augustine. He should change his name to Asshole Lockwood because that’s what he is.A fucking asshole.
I slamour bedroom door behind us and hop into bed after changing into comfy pajamas. I tell myself I’ll stay up all night planning my escape, but the room is so comfortable that I fall asleep, making one crucial mistake.
* * *
ChapterSeven
Augustine
She’s right, I’m an asshole. I don’t know why I’m trying this hard to push her away. Trinity is my wife now and even if I made the decision foolishly and impulsively… I’m the one who won a prize. The woman is too damn beautiful and smart for me. Her mouth makes me want to smack the hell out of her, but I would only ever spank her on that fine, sexy ass of hers.
I wouldn't hit her across the face the way she smacked the fuck out of me. She has those long talon-like black lady nails and she fucking drew blood. I stand there in the kitchen dripping as I polish off a beer and let my outrage mount.
