Chapter 20
TWENTY
BOSTON
My wife is drunk.
Very drunk.
She’s currently standing on the table in the VIP booth, dancing in her white dress. Her white heels are inches from my hands as she holds a drink in hers.
And all I do is watch her, enthralled.
I’m not entirely sure what it is about her that has me so transfixed.
I want to uncover every single layer that she’s hidden and work out exactly what makes her tick.
I understand her sister is a sensitive spot for her because Carrie is all she has, but there is more to her than that. Of that, I’m sure.
We’ve been in this club for four hours, and she’s consumed almost a full bottle of vodka.
I expect her to be throwing up anytime now.
The waitress who has been serving us comes back over and hands me a bottle of water.
Maven reaches down and yells over the music for her to get up and dance with her.
“I can’t,” the waitress says, holding the tray.
I pull out a few hundred-dollar bills and hand them to the waitress, not to Maven.
She takes them, places the tray down on the seat, and climbs up onto the table with my wife.
Maven grabs her by the waist and pulls her closer, moving her hips against the other woman’s.
Fascinating. That’s the word I would choose to describe her right now.
She drops low, down the waitress’s body, looking at me as she does, then slides her body back up.
“Do you think he’s hot?” she asks the waitress, loud enough for me to hear. The waitress looks over her shoulder at me and nods. “What if I said that you could come back to our room with us tonight?” The waitress turns back to Maven, and I grind my teeth at her suggestion.
“You just got married, didn’t you?” I hear the waitress say.
“Yes, and I want you to fuck my husband,” Maven says sweetly. “I can even pay you.”
Standing, I wipe my hands down my trousers before I pull out more cash and hand it to the waitress. She takes it with a confused look.
“If you will excuse me,” I say, and walk away before I do something I’ll regret.
I go to the men’s room and splash some water on my face before heading back out. When I get to our table, I don’t find my wife there. Instead, I find her on the dance floor with another man. Growling, I stalk in her direction, pushing through the throng of people until I reach her.
“Touch my fucking wife again, and I will end your fucking life,” I say in a tone that tells the guy I’m not joking. He immediately puts his hands up and backs away. Truth be told, I don’t think she even realized she was dancing with a guy, as he was behind her while she swung her arms in the air.
Grabbing Maven, I drape her body over my shoulder and then make my way to the exit as a few people yell congratulations at the sight of us leaving.
Luckily, the nightclub is in the hotel where we’re staying, and I don’t stop even when we get to the hotel elevators.
She doesn’t say a word during the entire trip from the club to the room.
And when I shut the door behind me, she feels like deadweight over my shoulder.
I expect her to speak when I place her on the bed, but she’s passed out.
I pull each heel off because I know that’s the last thing she would want to ruin, then reach for her again.
Her body lies limply in my arms as I carry her to the bathroom.
I turn the shower on cold, then step in, the water hitting her first, and she immediately screeches and starts hitting my chest.
“Oh my God, you fucking asshole. Put me down.”
“Do not offer me up for another woman to fuck. I’m your husband now,” I tell her angrily, still holding her under the water.
“Fuck you!” she shouts.
I place her on her feet, then I step out, leaving her in the shower.
Taking my clothes off, I leave them in a wet pile on the floor.
Turning back around, I find her slumped down, the blue from her hair cascading down her body and to the drain as the shower washes over her.
Sighing, I lean in and turn the faucet off.
Stepping out of the bathroom, I grab the first shirt I can find and then return to find her in the same spot.
Drying her with the towel, I pick her up and take her to the bed before I slip the shirt over her head and lay her back down.
She hardly makes a sound, but her eyes flutter open and lock on me for a moment.
Fuck, what am I doing?