Page 62 of These Deadly Vows

She sniffles and rolls away from me, losing the towel. Fuck. There are patches. Some spots were missed. “I’ll get you an appointment. I know a guy.”

She rolls back toward me. “She ruined my hair.”

“It’s not that bad. It’s like I have a punk princess in my bed.”

“I think we both know there’s nothing punk about me. If you want to sleep downstairs tonight. I understand.”

“Because of your hair?”

She nods.

“The last thing on my mind is your hair. I’ll deal with Boo.”

“No,” she snaps, popping up like she’s been possessed. “I’m going to kill her.”

“That’s what she wants. A reaction.”

“Well, she’s going to get one.” My wife rolls off the bed dressed in short pajama shorts that hug her ass cheeks and a thin tank.

“Where are you going?” I question while she digs out a pair of footie socks from one of the dresser drawers.

“I told you. I’m going to kill her.” Adeline nearly topples over as she gets her socks on.

“Baby.” I shift off the bed and start toward her.

Her palm flies up and in my face. “No. Don’t baby me.” She storms past me, going downstairs to the kitchen to rifle through the drawers. At least she didn’t go for a knife.

She grabs a pair of scissors.

“Jesus. What are you planning to do with those?”

“I’m going to cut her hair off.”

“Is that going to make you feel better?”

“I’ll let you know.” She moves to go around me, and I hook an arm around her waist.

I press my lips to her neck, then behind her ear as I stroke the underside of her tit. “Stop. I’m tired and really don’t want to clean up another body today.”

“Another?” She freezes long enough for me to grab the scissors.

“Come to bed and I’ll tell you about it.”

“Oh no. You’re just trying to distract me to protect your whore.”

“One. She’s not my whore and two, I’m not protecting anyone but you.”

Her eyes narrow into tiny slits, and I realize I just fucked up somehow.

“Oh, fuck you.” She makes a run for it and slips into the elevator.

“Adeline,” I shout, dropping the scissors onto a nearby table. “She’s not worth the trouble.”

My wife stares back at me with a look that says, ‘fuck around and find out.’ She may look all sweet and innocent, but she was raised in the mafia and Boo has disrespected her more than once. Rightfully, the cunt has earned Adeline’s wrath.

“Adeline,” my husband snaps as the elevator doors close in his face. I smile a satisfied smirk and get off at the bar. I stomp inside, dressed in my pajamas, forgetting that everyone can see how screwed up my hair is.

“Can I help you with something?” One of the big burly guy’s steps in front of me. I think he’s one of the club officers or the enforcer or whatever.

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