Chapter 10 Kingston
KINGSTON
When I saw that bastard grab Livvie, a flood of red blanketed my vision. I didn’t think, I didn’t breathe. I just aimed and fired.
She betrayed me by sneaking out of our fucking home and meeting with that asshole Roman. That cuts deep, and even though we’re bound by a sham marriage, it doesn’t stop me from hugging her close when I see the panic etched into her expression.
The freshly washed scent of her hair fills my lungs, blunting the anger that was coursing through me only seconds earlier. She trembles, her breaths raspy and shallow as we stand together in the alleyway, the cold air slapping my exposed skin.
“That motherfucker,” I growl. “He lured you out here to expose you, making you vulnerable to your enemies. Our enemies. What the hell were you thinking by coming here to meet him?”
“Stop being so paranoid,” she spews, struggling in my grip. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“The fuck I don’t. And I know exactly what I saw. My wife with another man.”
“Oh, so that’s what’s got your dick in a twist. You’re pissed off because I made you look like a jackass, right? Guess what? It would take a whole hell of a lot less for me to make you look like that, sweetie.”
My blood bubbles with rage once again as I wrestle Livvie to the truck waiting by the curb. It didn’t take too long for the bitch alter ego to kick back into high gear.
“Are you seriously going to tell me you don’t see what he just pulled?” I dig my fingers into her hip to keep her close. “He put you right in the fucking enemy’s hands.”
“No, he didn’t. He wouldn’t.” Her head tilts upward, eyes flashing, lips curled into a grimace.
“Why, because he’s daddy’s special security guy?
” I sneer. “Bull-fucking-shit. Wake up, Livvie. He’s a goddamn threat.
Why can’t you see that? He led them right to you and you almost took a bullet between the fucking eyes.
Which is ironic because you already couldn’t see the shit that was right in front of you. ”
“He just wanted to make sure I was okay,” she says, frustration lacing her words. “The past couple of days have been a little scary, what with all the fucking bullets flying around in our airspace. Stop making up these crazy theories in your head. It’s not helping us.”
I get another whiff of her fresh clean scent, white musk and jasmine, and it does something to me. I pull in a deep breath, letting it fog up my brain. For a second, I block out Roman’s hungry gaze when he was with her.
I’ll gouge his fucking eyes out the next chance I get. Now, the vision of her tight body, soaped up and naked in the bathroom, hits harder than vengeance.
I pull her tighter against me, my mind swimming with all the things I want to do to that sexy as fuck, soapy wet wife of mine. Sans the fucking viper tongue.
Wait, scratch that. I need that tongue. I just want the voice to be muted permanently.
“Take your hands off me, I’m not a child. I can walk on my own,” she hisses right before stumbling over a crack in the sidewalk. She winces, stopping short to hug her knees. “Ah, fuck, that burns.”
There are so many words fighting on the tip of my tongue to hit the air, but I hold them back until we’re inside the truck.
My lips pull into a tight line. Her leggings are torn, her knees scraped and bleeding.
And despite the fiery drop-dead look still blazing in her eyes, there’s a hint of unease glimmering in the depths.
And a part of me wonders if deep down, she suspects that Roman isn’t as reliable as she keeps insisting he is. She’d never give me the satisfaction of agreeing because she’s just that obstinate, but I’d bet my left nut she’s questioning shit.
I jerk my head left and right, the hairs on the back of my neck prickling. We’ve been out here for too long, and whoever took those shots might try to do it again and literally kill two birds with one stone.
Livvie grunts in pain and blows on her torn-up knees as she straightens.
But too much time has passed and the threat is still out there. So I scoop her into my arms and carry her the rest of the way to the waiting truck, not willing to take unnecessary chances.
With a thrashing heart, I yank open the back door and place her on the back seat. Her glare back at me could melt metal but I stare her down, not giving a damn about how angry she is.
Inside, the thick partition is up, separating us from the driver. Regardless, anger knots in my throat, choking back all the things I want to say. I try to convince myself it’s because she put herself in harm’s way and forced my hand into a battle for the family as a result.
Truth is, she ran back to that asshat for some reason and didn’t tell me. The way he looked at her surpassed professional courtesy. His motives of being just a friendly princess protector is bullshit.
The bastard wants her. He’s in fucking love with my wife.
And maybe there’s something on her side too. More than what she’s letting on.
The short ride back to the penthouse is silent. And deafening.
Once we’re back in the penthouse, alone, I finally unleash all the pent-up rage curdling in my fucking veins.
“Do you have a death wish or are you just that stupid?”
“Maybe if you told me the truth, I wouldn’t have to go looking for it,” she snaps with a flip of her head.
She turns and limps toward the bathroom, dismissing me, and it pisses me the fuck off.
I grab her by the arm. “You don’t get to walk away, princess. Not from me. Not ever.”
“Yeah, that’s right,” she snarls, waving her left hand in front of my face. “Because I have this gaudy monstrosity on my finger, right? The tie that binds? The fucking shackle around my life?” She clutches her throat. “More like a goddamn noose!”
“Stop being so dramatic,” I say, releasing her arm and walking past her.
Under the kitchen sink, there’s a first aid kit. I know it’s a weird spot but there are a lot of knives in here so I always thought it was kind of fitting to be here, just in case. I bend down and grab it, then flip it open on the granite countertop.
A frustrated breath escapes her lips and she folds her arms over her chest. “I don’t need you to nurse me back to health, Florence Nightingale.”
I stop pulling out Band-Aids and alcohol swabs and level her with a look. “Can you take a break from being a bitch for just one minute? Take off your pants.”
An eyebrow lifts but no words follow.
It’s a fucking miracle.
“Take off you’re fucking pants, Livvie, or I’ll hack them off with a blade.”
She rolls her pretty eyes and slowly shimmies out of the leggings, careful to avoid rubbing the fabric against her cut-up knees. Once she’s in her panties, she puts her hands on her hips.
“Congratulations, you got my pants off without any begging.”
A dry chuckle escapes my lips. “You really are unbelievable. I’m trying to help you, even after I saved your fine ass from holy fucking hell in that alleyway. Jesus, show a little gratitude.”
“Oh, wow.” She folds her arms. “There we have it. Kingston doesn’t do anything for free. Now I owe you for stalking me?”
I sigh. “Yeah, princess, you owe your husband for showing up at the right time. So shut the fuck up and sit down.”
I nod at one of the counter stools.
Reluctantly, she inches toward me and places her hands on the edge of the counter to hoist herself onto the stool. Her face screws up in pain as she swings herself onto the seat to face me.
I take a little pleasure in cleaning her wounds and watching her wince in pain. I use extra swabs to prolong it because she deserves it after what she did.
And this little show of goodwill doesn’t mean I forgot what I saw through the café window, either.
“It’s clean,” she says through gritted teeth, gripping the counter so tight her fingertips turn white. “I can sort it from here.”
“Nearly done, princess. I don’t mind the aftercare. That's the sort of guy you married. One who’ll tend to your bruises and mop up my cum from your cheeks.”
Biting back a smirk, I bandage her knees, then repack the first aid kit while she examines my handiwork and mumbles something under her breath.
“What was that, princess?”
“I said ‘Thank you, asshole,’” she bites out. “Happy?”
“Almost,” I say. “But I need something else.”
Her eyes widen. “Thought as much. You’re not getting your dick out just because you slapped some bandages on my knees.”
“Don’t flatter yourself, princess.” I lean in so close that I can practically taste her glossy pink lips. “You made a big fucking mistake this morning, Livvie.”
“What are you talking about?” she says, hugging her arms around herself.
“We don’t do secrets.”
I straighten and turn away, gathering her discarded, torn leggings, then unzip the little pouch on the back of the waistband. When my fingers pluck out the small black USB stick, she gasps.
“H-how did you—?”
“Why did Roman give this to you? What is it?” I purposely keep my voice low even though I want to yell so loud I shatter her goddamn eardrums.
But no. Control is the name of this fucking game.
“He didn’t s-say,” she stammers, scrambling off the stool.
“Bullshit,” I say, stalking back toward her and holding the flash drive between us. “You think Roman’s your friend? Your great protector? He’s just playing you. You’re a goddamn pawn, Livvie. Stop using your ass as a hat and see things for what they really are. For fucking once.”
There are mere inches between us and the tension is so thick I could choke on it, my feet rooted where I stand.
She stares at me, conflict glowing in her gaze.
Her cheeks are a pretty pink flush, her teeth sinking into her lower lip.
In that moment my eyes betray me, sliding down the length of her bare milky thighs.
My fingers tingle with the urge to stroke the soft skin, my mouth watering at the thought of feasting on her tight little pussy.
That same pussy I pumped cum into during our wedding party. And fuck, that was better than I ever imagined. Who knew hate fucks with a wife would be the best fuck.
Livvie creeps closer, seemingly captivated by the dangerous net of temptation that’s hovered over us like a dark, ominous cloud ever since we said “I do.”
Rather than tease my wife until she’s wet, I pull away and turn on my heel. Livvie betrayed me. She’s keeping secrets and sneaking around behind my back. And that fucker Roman won’t get anywhere near what’s mine again.
Because that’s exactly what she is.
My wife. Mine.
And if she thinks I don’t see what’s going on, then she’ll fucking learn the hard way.