Page 43 of Tempted By the Bosshole

It’s late when Isabella and I land in Boston. Since I kept her awake most of last night, she’s tired, not to mention hungry and adorably cranky. Cradling her close and fighting the urge to shove my hand under her skirt just for the fun of watching her get off, I feed my bride the takeout of her choice, deliver her home, then tuck her into bed. Sleepily, she crawls beneath the covers and drops off in seconds.

I glance at my watch. It’s after ten, and it’s almost Christmas. I don’t give a shit. I intend to give my wife the most priceless holiday gift, something she wants more than anything in this world, all tied in a pretty holiday bow.

But I’m giving myself a gift, too. Fuck, I’m going to enjoy this…

Twenty minutes later, I pull up outside the apartment building I’ve only driven past. This time, I stop and park, darting up the stairs to the unit my wife used to share with her asshole of an ex. Since the lights are on, I pound on his door.

A man I’ve only glimpsed at a distance wrenches the door open, then looks me up and down. “Where’s my Chinese food?”

Of course the loser is alone tonight. He’s average—height, build, and looks. He’s obviously dumber than hell since he let Isabella get away.

I barge my way into his unit and slam the door. “I’m not here to deliver anything but a warning. And to take back what doesn’t belong to you.”

“What the fuck are you talking about? Who are you?”

“I’m your ex-girlfriend’s husband.”

“You…” He recoils when he sees the wedding band on my finger. “Izzy is already married?”

“Yeah. As of last night, she’s my wife. So I intend to set a couple of things straight. First, when Isabella came here to collect her belongings, you didn’t let her take all of them. Are you hanging onto her dresses, shoes, and underwear for your personal use?”

He recoils like I punched him. “Fuck you. I don’t wear her clothes. I just wanted to talk things out. I don’t know why the hell she was so set on leaving in a tizzy.”

“Are you really unclear about why a woman would want to leave a man who can’t keep his dick out of other women? So, on top of being unfaithful, you’re stupid?”

He scoffs. “That shit with Mariah was just a little stress relief. It didn’t mean anything. I tried to tell Izzy?—”

“Isabella doesn’t want your sloppy seconds. She’s much happier now, getting all the orgasms she can handle. You know, the ones you didn’t give her.”

“Get the hell out of my apartment, or I’m calling the police.”

“I hope you do. I’ll be happy to tell them you’ve stolen my wife’s personal effects, and you assaulted her when she tried to take them back.”

“Assaulted her? She fucking kneed me in the balls.”

“After you roughed her up and bruised her. I have pictures to prove it.” I snapped them while Isabella slept. “And I can probably persuade her to press charges…”

“What the fuck do you want?”

“The rest of her things—all of them. If you threw anything in the trash like you threatened…” I shake my head and tsk. “There won’t be a rock small enough for you to hide under. And if you think I won’t beat the shit out of you, you’re sadly mistaken. I’m a former marine, a boxing champ, I have a black belt in karate, and I spent most of my time in the service with special forces. Try me. I dare you.”

“Jesus, dude. Have her, then. She isn’t worth this bullshit. Just take her stuff and get the hell out.”

As I expected, Eric Meadows is a typical bully—lots of bark, but when confronted by someone who’s bigger than five-foot-two and has a history of combat, my wife’s ex has no bite. The douche simply rolled over and showed his vulnerable belly. What a coward.

From the closet, I grab a flowery duffel that can’t possibly be this asshat’s and pile in the rest of the shoes, socks, lingerie, and personal effects that seemingly belong to my wife. Then I pin him with a glare. “Where is her jewelry?”

“Top left drawer of the dresser. Hurry the fuck up.”

“Trust me, I don’t want to spend quality time with you, either.” I rifle through the contents of the shallow drawer and pull free her earrings, necklaces, bangles, and costume jewelry rings. Finally, I spot a little beige velvet box and pry it open. Yes, it’s her mother’s pendant. With a smile, I slip it into my pocket. Then I zip up the flowered bag and turn to Meadows. “I’m finished.”

“Make sure you got all that cunt’s stuff. I don’t want it here. I don’t want her, either.”

Not only is he sniveling, he’s lying. If Isabella came back tomorrow, he’d welcome her. Then he’d betray her again because he’s immature, arrogant, and selfish. But she doesn’t have to worry about him anymore.

“You upset her, and you bruised her. Did you feel brave beating up on a female half your size?” I scoff. “If you ever call her a cunt or put your hands on her again, I will nail you to a wall—literally—before I skin you alive and feed you your balls as you’re bleeding out. Those aren’t big words, and that’s not an idle threat. I will hunt you down. I will find you. I will follow through. And no one will ever find your body.” I grab his shirt and shove him against the wall. “Are we clear?”

Isabella’s ex swallows like he’s trying to shove down a goose egg. Then he nods. “Fine. Take your goddamn hands off me.”

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