Chapter 22 Tristan #2
“My sister made it. Of course I will wear it,” she says, voice thick with annoyance, but something soft threads through her bitter tone.
I drag a hand down my face, sighing. Sure, but I was involved in every stage, not to mention the price I paid for this exclusive set.
She can reject me a hundred times. I will bounce back a hundred and one times.
As the driver takes us to the wedding venue, I inch my hand to touch her for just one moment.
She catches my movement and scoots away, almost climbing the side of the door to put even more distance between us.
I spread my arms to emphasize my point. “There’s no place you could go where I wouldn’t find you.”
She stares me down. “So what, does this marriage include rape?”
If she had thrust a fucking knife into my torso and gutted my insides, it still would have hurt less.
“Rape when you’re a slut for my cock?” I snap.
She throws her head back and laughs, laughing some more, the hysterical, derogatory sounds making me fucking seethe. I half expect fumes to expel out of my nostrils.
“Oh, husband. Anyone could have done it. Can you say the same?”
In an instant, I wrap my hand around her throat, dragging her face an inch away from mine. It takes the will of a sinner with only one chance at absolution not to blow it, not to slam my mouth on hers and kiss her senseless until she swallows her fucking lies.
“It’s always been me. The ease with which you lie, wife… just as shameless as when I have my cock buried so deep inside you, and you still beg for more.”
She licks her lips, her eyes becoming glassy while her biting tone shoots up straight venom. “If you were the last man on earth and humanity’s future would depend on us, I wouldn’t let you fuck me, husband.”
Sliding my hand toward the base of her neck, I stroke her pulse with my thumb. “Such big words. Do you have any idea who you’re playing?”
“Yeah, with a simp,” she rasps. “For my pussy.”
I squeeze lightly and drag her closer to me, needing her with every sinful fiber of my being and every pump of my black heart. She’s right. Contradicting her would be pointless.
She meets my gaze, not intimidated that I hold her life in my hand. “So, are you into rape now?”
That douses the fire burning me up, and my hand drops to my side where I clench and unclench it. There’s not a single person who could shatter my control like her.
“You’ll be the one begging.”
She bursts into deprecating laughter. “You wait for that. Let’s catch up in fifty years.”
I arch a brow, jerking my chin at her. “For someone who doesn’t want to be bound to me, you’re already planning our golden anniversary.”
“Ugh,” she mumbles and looks out.
“No honeymoon then?” I ask, hoping she can meet me halfway, just her and me away from the reality of our world, enjoying some blissful togetherness. She’ll give in. Eventually.
“No, stop trying. Just stop.”
“I can’t, mo run. I can’t.”
She waves me off, turning her back to me. “Then you’re just delusional.”
“No, just a man in love,” I confess.
She whips her head at me, her eyes welling up. “You have no idea what love is? All you want is power. And you used me to acquire even more.”
My jaw sets in a hard line, pressing my molars together hard enough they might crack. “It’s one thing if the entire world believes that, but you should know better. You let me fuck you, Viviana, perfectly aware which family you come from.”
She huffs, saying haughtily. “Dario wouldn’t have minded.”
My pulse skyrockets, threatening to burst the vein in my neck and I get in her face, snarling, “Say his name one more time in my presence and I will end him, consequences be damned. Don’t test me on that.
Don’t talk about other men, don’t say other men’s names in my presence.
And especially not fucking his. Just don’t. ”
The car falls silent. Only my ragged breathing breaks through.
She stares back at me with a murderous expression on her face. Nostrils flaring, her pupils darken with a challenge.
I drag a hand down my face. “I get you’re mad. But don’t play this jealousy game. It will end up deadly. You won’t like the repercussions. I’ve slain men for less.”
“He’s my friend,” she sighs, but doesn’t say his name. Smart woman.
“That friend of yours will end up buried with the rest. I have a special place for it.”
She gasps, shock replacing the hardness. “You don’t.”
“Do you think I breed horses just for fun?”
“Oh my god,” she says, slapping a palm on her mouth, and eyeing me with wide eyes.
“Yes, wife. I’m a monster. A jealous and territorial one at that. But what I am not is a fucking rapist,” I say, opening the door the instant the driver parks.
Her smile is back the moment she notices eyes on us. I glare until she elbows me.
“Should have taken some lessons in pretense from you,” I grumble.
“Or you could have simply not betrayed me. Not married me. So many things, husband,” she grits out as we enter the posh location.
White peonies and candlelight decorate the round tables scattered around the room. The ballroom drips with refinement from the flower archway to the silver cutlery and cream tablecloths.
People wait years for a reservation. I made one phone call.
I smirk. “I think you just love calling me husband, wife.”
She fakes a yawn.
Lowering my face, I whisper in her ear. “A vow and a signature. Try faking that.”
She rolls her eyes, and both her sister and Calla stop at our sides with their kids.
While they assess each other, eyes narrowed into slits, my godson leans over and smacks a kiss on Celia’s mouth.
I chuckle while the women gasp.
Chiara gnashes her teeth. “Keep him away from my daughter.”
“Then make your daughter stop smiling at my son,” Calla snaps.
“Please, they’re children. It’s innocent. Both of you know one spark and it will ignite,” Viviana intervenes, casting an intent look as if pleading with them not to ruin her day.
Chiara nods begrudgingly, and Calla places my godson into my arms.
Aris has his mother’s silver eyes with some specks of green in them, and his father’s sharp features.
Viviana observes me as I thrust him into the air. My godson loves anything that is adrenaline-inducing and regales me with bubbly laughter. I hear them introducing themselves, and Calla congratulating us.
Once I became his godfather, I swore nothing would ever happen to him. Aris fusses in my arms, getting bored easily. I kiss the top of his head and place him down. Only his mother can hold him longer. I swear this kid will grow to be independent quickly.
Celia fusses in Chiara’s arms.
“No, don’t even think about it,” her mother says, congratulating us and then takes off.
The rest of the guests follow, the endless congratulations edging on forever. Next, a round of pictures follows, and my wife gets increasingly fidgety.
Even the best actors need a break from character. I grab her hand, and we move to the parquet dance floor, slowly dancing into our marriage.
To the beginning, according to me.
To the end, according to her.