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“Thank you,” I say, at a loss of words. “That means a lot. You… I never expected this.”
“You need better guidance in your life. Make sure your wife pays for her mistake. Relieve your stress. We’ll see each other at breakfast tomorrow,” Aram encourages me. Mywifedoesn’t move. She plays dead for me, but she doesn’t know that I’ve reached the end. “I have to go now. My security advisor is being a bitch as per usual.”
“Of course. See you tomorrow.”
Calmly, I place the phone on the bedside. I enjoy a moment of peace before I shove mywifeat the bed. She doesn’t cry out. She doesn’t defend herself. It baffles me that she’s insolent enough to play dumb.
She’s not dead. She’s mine, and she needs to play hard. Whatever she’s been doing these past few weeks needs to stop.
I smack her head against the headboard. It’s not enough to crack her skull, but I wish it was. She needs to wake up. I throw punches at her, slamming her down. Nothing. Her only response is blood.
I kick at her, ripping her camisole off her body. Her bruises are the only clothing she wears. I try hard to break her spirit only to realize that she hasn’t had any spirit in a while.
By her hair, I drag her out of the suite. Aram showed me the private stairs, the ones only the royals have access to. I take them, pushing her down the stairs to keep up with my stride.
Nothing.
I don’t have her anymore. She’s forgotten me. I can’t sit and do nothing. I have to remind her. It’s been weeks since I fucked her, but I will do it now.
Out in the open, until she’s nothing but a hole, overflowing with my cum.
I do as I envisioned it. I rip her pussy open as soon as we touch ground in the gardens. I’ve found a location that anyone can waltz into. Aram said this was his grandfather, the legend who made Katantia. He’s well-lit in the dark night, a monument of pride.
I fuck my disobedientwifein front of him.
I take and take, losing myself in the process. I feel her blood all over me, her bruises a design I couldn’t have created more splendidly.
She doesn’t look at me. Rarely will I ever find her eyes matching mine while we fuck. I always study her, taking her in with pride. She’s mine. I made her.
We never become one, but I keep taking until I lose my senses.
The next time I open my eyes, I’m not in the palace’s gardens. My vision blurs, requiring a moment or two to regain focus.
As everything around me clears up, I recognize the inside of my private jet.
“Your wife almost died last night,” somebody says to me. My headache kills me, throbbing and making me fuzzy. I lift my gaze, and I meet the man who talked about mywifelike he’s allowed to pass judgment.
My words flow out in my mother tongue, cursing him out for his disrespect. I attempt to rise from my seat, but he shoves me back down like it’s nothing.
Then I look at him twice.
Travis Cross.
“Aram Wraith is a lot of things,” he says. This is Aram’s security advisor. He’s out of his work clothes, no Katantia emblem in sight. I know he’s not a rich man. He’s Aram’s servant, a tall and slender man with connections. “He won’t stand for violence. The staff had to redo your entire suite. They walked into a bloodbath. They had to wash your wife’s blood, tracing it down the stairs. For God’s sake, who are you?”
I curse at him some more, unable to form a sentence in English.
“Our doctors took care of her. She’s not supposed to travel in such a state, but you’ve been banned from Katantia. You must leave. You can never return,” Travis reveals, and the dreams I had evaporate. The man peers down at me in disgust. “He encouraged you to punish her not to kill her in our palace. From this day onward, we don’t want anything to do with you—”
“And… The deal?” I blurt out.
“No more deals. Anything you signed has been annulled. We don’t know you. You don’t know us.”
“You’ll pay,” I hiss.
“Don’t try me, Mr. Martí. I’ll make your rapist of aconcubinelook like a piece of cake,” he threatens me, and I jolt up, only to have my headache knock me back down.
Who is he? And how does he know? There’s an accusatory tone, a mocking that I can’t let slide.
