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He didn’t wait to hear my reply before he walked out of the kitchen, leaving me to just me and my thoughts.
Leaving me in my house with my ice wife.
Handle the wife first, he said, as if I was just supposed to forget about the mark. As if it were that easy. It wasn’t. What he said about the mark coming to me was, however, true.
Whenever I found myself on the wrong end of a knife or a gun, I enjoyed wielding the power. I had all the faith in the world that I would be the one in a struggle to walk away still breathing. That being said, it was never something that I actively sought out. I knew that even the best could find themselves in a patch of bad luck. Something which in the spur of the moment could prove fatal. Better to be prepared than to be caught off guard.
But the wife. . . .
The wife needed seeing to. I was married to this girl—thisManya. For better or worse, it was done. My father had even sent Shura to ensure that I handled it in a way that wouldn’t injure the peace he was trying to engineer with this move. I knew I needed to honor that. But I had no interest in being married to a woman who would sooner freeze my dick with her glare than allow it between her thighs.
I just had to find a way to persuade her to welcome me there, or even welcome me at all.
I snorted, pushing my hair back from my face and shifting to move off in the direction of my office.
“Elise!” I called out to the housekeeper as I approached the heavy wooden door, “I know you are there, eavesdropping. Come help me with this and let me tell you again to stop opening my doors to Shura so that you can fit him between your legs like some common whore.”
I had plans to make, and execute, and I would need the woman laughing so brazenly at my words in order to do so.
