Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
ALEXANDER
If I could drag my wife away from this ball without causing a scene, I would. I can’t tear my gaze away from her. She’s stunning. Her elegance as Tobias sweeps her around the dance floor takes my breath away. And that dress. I’m driven mad with desire I can’t act upon. It’s as though my father knew something on an instinctual level when he chose her as my bride. She was born for the role.
It’s taken me far too long to accept that I want her. Need her. The child situation is a separate issue that I can fix, and I will, but I can’t stay away from her for much longer. The way her pupils blew wide when I had my hand around her throat has given me a punishing erection that makes my balls ache. If I don’t come inside her soon, I’m going to explode.
My icy demeanor and superior self-control are all I have. They’re the things that keep me on the right side of sanity unless I’m killing a mark. Then I let the madness burst free. But Imogen pushes me too close to the edge, and fucking her is all I can think of to keep the tenuous balance between reason and insanity .
My long-term plan remains the same: force her into asking me for a divorce before my father starts to question the lack of a pregnancy, but that doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy her in the meantime.
The dance ends, and Tobias leads her over to a group made up mainly of Consortium members. Thankfully, Donovan isn’t one of them, especially after what Imogen said about seeking him out. He’s one of the few who’s brave—or stupid—enough to flirt with her if she begins to flirt with him, and murdering the heir to the Sinner Dynasty with so many witnesses is the dumbest thing I could do.
She’s holding court, and even though I want to snap the spine of every man captivated by her, pride fills my chest. She belongs to me, and they’re hanging onto her every word, even the women.
“Alexander, what are you doing standing here all alone?”
I groan as Lady Suzannah Conlin, an ex of mine, approaches. She must have come as someone’s plus one, because there’s no way my father would have invited her now that I’m married to Imogen. None of my exes were on the guest list for that very reason, and out of all of them, Suzannah is the last one I’d choose to spend any time with. Our split was an acrimonious one, made worse by her threatening to kill herself when I broke things off. I don’t take kindly to threats, idle or otherwise, as she discovered.
“Who did you bribe to get past the front gates?” I drawl.
She rakes a blood-red finger over my crisp, white dress shirt. “I’ve been thinking about you. How’s married life? Ready for some extra-marital activities yet?” She gives this ridiculous tinkly laugh that grates on my few remaining nerves.
I grip her wrist and remove her hand. “No. ”
She pouts. “Where is the mysterious Mrs. De Vil, anyway?”
“None of your business.” I step away, but Suzannah never did know how to take a hint.
She grabs my hand. “Alex, come on. Don’t be a bastard. I miss you.”
I hate the name Alex, and she knows it, but I don’t give her the satisfaction of rising to it. “Let go of my hand or you’ll get a front-row seat to how much of a bastard I can be.”
She instantly releases me. Before she can start jabbering on again, I walk away, and as I do, I catch Imogen staring at me, jealousy burning in her eyes. Even though she has nothing to be jealous of in relation to Suzannah, or anyone else, a thrill races up my spine.
Well, well, Little Pawn. Looks as though you want me as much as I want you.
You’ll have me. Soon.
I slide my phone from my pocket and send a text to my personal doctor instructing him to come to Oakleigh in the morning. I don’t care that it’s a Sunday. I’ve made the decision, and now I want this thing done.
Niall, a member of the estate security team, stands prominently by the exit, scanning the room. Not that we expect trouble at these events given the curated guest list, but Suzannah’s attendance is proof our process is fallible. I make my way through the crowd toward him, and he straightens as I approach, hands laced behind his back.
“I need you to escort someone from the premises.” I point to Suzannah, uncaring that she’s looking right at me. “Her. Make sure she doesn’t speak to anyone on her way out. ”
“Of course, Mr. De Vil.”
She spits some kind of venomous tirade at me as she passes by, her elbow in Niall’s firm grip. I put out an arm to stop them.
“If you ever set foot on any De Vil property again, I will have you thrown in jail and ensure you rot there.”
A torrent of abuse pours out of her, but I’ve already walked away, and by the time I join a group of business associates, Suzannah is long gone.
If she knows what’s good for her, she’ll stay gone.
Her surprise appearance has solidified one thing for me, though: the only woman I’m interested in is my wife.
Even if she does despise me. Even if my plans haven’t changed one iota. I thought denying myself was the best way to deal with this situation, but I was wrong.
Bored with the conversation, I murmur my excuses and extricate myself from the group I’d joined. As I pivot, my eyes home in on Donovan talking with Imogen and Saskia. Although in fairness, Imogen’s gaze is still on me.
A knot tightens in my stomach. Jesus fucking Christ. How many times do I have to warn that American twat to stay away from my wife?
Saskia is fluttering her eyelashes at him, and I make a mental note to add my sister to that list of no-go areas. Just because Donovan’s family is a member of The Consortium does not mean he has free rein to do as he fucking pleases.
My jaw tenses as I make my way over. He sees me coming, and a shit-eating grin steals over his face. The bastard loves to rile me. He lives for it. If he wasn’t a Sinner, I’d make sure he died for it, but unfortunately, he’s untouchable. The Consortium has its own laws, and murdering an heir would see my family excommunicated. If it was only me who’d suffer, I’d beat him to death using only my fists.
“Donovan.” I slide an arm around Imogen’s waist, staking my claim. She stiffens, but only for the briefest moment, then she leans into me and smiles. I’ve no idea whether she’s playing some kind of game, but considering the view I have of her tits in that plunging neckline dress, I’m not complaining.
“Alexander.” Donovan smirks. “Dereliction of husbandly duty again, I see. Lucky for you, I stepped in. We’ve been having a lovely chat, haven’t we, Imogen?”
“Which is now over.” I grip her hand. “Saskia, a word, please.”
My sister stays rooted to the spot, well aware of what that word will entail. “I’m fine here.”
“I didn’t ask if you were fine. I asked for a word.” My expression and my tone brooks no argument, and while Saskia gives Imogen a run for her money in the stubborn stakes, she knows when to resist and when to capitulate.
“See you later, Donovan.”
“No, you fucking won’t,” I mutter as I lead Imogen through the crowds. As soon as we’re far enough away, I stop and wait for Saskia to catch up. “Stay away from Donovan. He’s bad news.”
My sister gives me one of her famous eye rolls. “Oh, Xan. Unclench, will you? I know exactly who Donovan is. He uses women like I use tissues during flu season. It’s called having fun. You should try it sometime.”
“He was being extremely well-behaved and respectful,” Imogen offers, as if that’s supposed to make me feel better.
“Lucky for him.” I run a hand through my hair. “I don’t want you talking to him again. Either of you.” I glare at my sister to press home my point.
Saskia snorts. “What, ever? That’s difficult, don’t you think, considering his family are Consortium members? Not to mention his father and Dad are great friends.” She shakes her head. “I can handle Donovan. He’s a harmless playboy who’s never quite grown up.”
“He’s a two-hundred-pound man who’s used to getting what he wants.”
“That may be, but it isn’t me he wants. Or Imogen. What he wants is to rile you, and he’s winning at that game. Ignore him. You getting married has given him ammunition, and as long as you keep giving him a target to aim at, he’ll keep pulling the trigger.”
Sometimes, I think my sister is the smartest of all of us.
“Fine.”
I lead Imogen away, leaving Saskia to do whatever she wants. I doubt she’ll disrespect me by seeking out Donovan again tonight, although the next social or business event is another matter.
On one level, I know Donovan is harmless. He’d never physically hurt a woman, but he sees them as disposable trinkets, and I don’t want my sister becoming the next temporary bauble on Donovan’s arm.
“Where are we going?” Imogen asks when I exit the ballroom and turn left toward the stairway. I don’t respond, earning me a huff. “I want to go back. I was having fun.”
“I’m aware,” I growl. “You’re lucky I don’t dump you in the pool again, or toss you over my shoulder and spank your arse until your skin reddens.”
She pulls up short when we’re halfway up the second flight of stairs, and despite my superior strength, I stop.
“What is wrong with you? I’ve hardly seen you all night, other than when you had your hand around my throat. What would you have me do? Stand on the sidelines like a wallflower and refuse to talk to anyone.”
“Yes. That’s precisely what I’d like.”
“Too bad. I enjoyed Tobias’s company. He treats me like a human being. You should try it sometime. And for the record, I was enjoying Donovan’s company, too. Far more than I enjoy yours. I saw you with that blonde. You think the rules are different for you, but they’re not.”
A half smile tugs at my lips. “Jealous?”
She laughs. “You want to see jealousy at play? Look in the mirror.” Ripping her hand from mine, she gathers up her dress and stomps up the stairs. “I’m going to bed. Goodnight.”
Let her go.
For a few seconds, my brain wins the war, but moments later, I take off up the stairs after my wife, my dick hard as a cricket bat, as it often is when Imogen runs her mouth. By the time she approaches her bedroom door, I’m right behind her. She turns to face me, eyes flashing with burning anger.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“This.” I snag her around the back of her neck, pressing her into my body. I take her mouth, using my frame to hold her against the door. Electricity crackles between us, and her intoxicating scent of bergamot and rose envelopes me. She doesn’t resist, opening her mouth beneath mine, allowing me unrestricted access to the sweetness of her.
The constant battles we’ve fought these last few weeks explodes into a hunger born of restraint. Passion erupts between us, and I drive my hips forward, circling them until she utters a groan filled with need. I kiss her like a man facing death. I kiss her like it’s the last kiss I’ll ever have, and she kisses me back as if it’s her first.
Time stops as we surrender to our mutual desires. She virtually melts in my arms, her fingers playing with the hair at my nape. My skin peppers with goosebumps in response to her cool touch. I can’t get enough, yet as my hands squeeze her breasts through the silky fabric of her dress, a moment of clarity bursts through the fog. I break away from her, my chest heaving.
No. Fuck , no. This can’t happen. I won’t let it happen, no matter how much my body craves to delve between her legs, to feel the sweet, soft flesh there, to burrow my fingers inside her and coat them in her desire. To bury my face between her breasts and lick the sweat from her skin.
She stands there with the flat of her palms resting on her abdomen, her lips swollen, her makeup smudged, her perfect hairstyle mussed, although I have no memory of shoving my hands through it. I’d thought she was the sexiest person alive when I entered the ballroom tonight, but seeing her in disarray like this, she’s never looked more tantalizing… or dangerous.
“Be in my office at nine-thirty tomorrow morning.”
She blinks several times as though she’s got something in her eye. “Why?”
Even now, with bewilderment etched into her features, she can’t help but question me.
“As my wife, there’s an expectation for you to accompany me on foreign trips, and depending on where that is, vaccinations may be required. My doctor is coming to administer them.”
Liar.
“Oh. ”
She touches her bottom lip. I wish she wouldn’t. It makes me want to kiss her all over again, and this time, I won’t be able to tear myself away. I’m so close to getting what I want, I can’t fuck it up now.
“It’s Sunday.”
“I’m aware. Don’t be late.”
As I walk away, the pull to look back at her engulfs me. I glance over my shoulder. She’s staring at her feet, looking bemused and lost. Her vulnerability tugs at something in my gut, and no one is more surprised than me when I say, “You looked beautiful tonight, Imogen, but I think I prefer you like this.”
I stride away in case she says something that makes it impossible for me to leave.
I’ve already briefed the doctor on what to bring with him, but before Imogen arrives, I go over everything once more. He isn’t happy, but he wouldn’t dare to challenge me. This job is far too lucrative for him, and most people I know are happy to put their morals to one side if it means their bank account gets fatter.
She arrives at nine-thirty on the dot, her punctuality greeted with an arched brow from me, and a challenging stare from her. This morning’s attire—blue jeans and a short-sleeved T-shirt—is in stark contrast to last night’s outfit, but my dick doesn’t care. She’s scraped her red hair into a high ponytail, and she looks so young and innocent that at least a shred of guilt for what I’m about to do to her should pass through me, but it doesn’t .
“This is Doctor Carter. He’s going to administer the vaccinations this morning.”
Imogen simply nods. She takes the chair the doctor offers to her and waits for him to prepare the injections. His eyes seek mine as he swabs Imogen’s upper arm. I dip my chin once. He plunges in the needle. Other than a brief wince, she doesn’t react. He prepares the second and injects that, too.
“Your arm may feel sore for a day or two,” Carter explains once he’s done. “But other than that, you shouldn’t get any side effects.” He lifts his gaze to me. “If she does, call me.”
Imogen rubs her arm and stands. “Is that it?”
I nod. “You may go.”
She hesitates, then gives a small shake of her head. “Gee, thanks for your approval.”
When she’s gone, I close the door she left purposely open. “How long?”
Carter snaps his black medical bag closed. “Ten days. Fourteen if you want to make doubly sure.”
“Thanks.” Fourteen days? I only hope I can restrain myself from fucking her for that long. I dial seven on my desk phone. “Richard, will you see Doctor Carter out, please?”
After the doctor leaves, I grab my mobile phone. On the first page is an app I installed this morning. I open it, and after a couple of seconds, a red dot appears.
My lips stretch into a smile. Perfect.
Ah, Little Pawn. Now I’ll always know where you are.