Page 19 of Reckless Love

“Then why…” I trailed off, confused and a little hurt.

Wick blew out a breath and leaned in, pressing his forehead to mine. “Baby, the terms of the contract stipulated the wedding be consummated, so that’s what we did. And, believe me, it was fucking everything.”

“But?” I whispered.

He leaned back. “But, I also know that you just met me. That I’ve upended your entire world.” His thumb stroked the back of my hand. “And I don’t want to pressure you or make any assumptions until you’re ready.”

“So, I get my own room?”

He nodded. “But, Alessia, you having your own space is the only concession I plan to make in this marriage. You will sleep here, in this apartment, every night. And every night, I will show you why I’m worthy of being your husband.”

“Oh.” I felt my lips form around the syllable as I stared up at him.

When I’d signed up to marry a stranger, I hadn’t expected the stranger to be the man who had played a part in ruining my life.

And when I’d married Wick, I’d expected a monster. Or, at least, an egotistical narcissist who only cared about himself.

Both times I’d been… wrong.

Which made me wonder, what else I’d been wrong about.

Eight

My stomach rumbled, reminding me I’d skipped lunch because my asshole of a boss decided to call a last-minute meeting to talk about the new company-wide email policy. Apparently, employees were now going to be required to respond to his messages over the weekends and evenings.

As soon as Mr. Devane sorted out my inheritance, I was going to quit. It just wasn’t worth the headache. Even still, I felt a guilty twist in my stomach at the idea of taking some of the funds that could go to Hope’s Heart.

Maybe it was time to use that monthly stipend my marriage contract provided. Lord knew my husband had been pretty baffled when, two days after our wedding, I came into the kitchen ready to go to work. He hadn’t explicitly said I didn’t need to work, but the implication was pretty clear.

But there was this tiny piece of my pride that didn’t want to touch Wick’s money. Money that had gobbled up my grandfather’s business like another piece of bloody steak.

In the two weeks since our wedding, I’d been all about maintaining my independence from Wick, who now seemed like more of a roommate than my actual husband. I didn’t want to lean on my husband any more than necessary, even if he was making it harder and harder to remember why I was being so stubborn.

True to his word, he hadn’t touched me since our wedding night. At first, we co-existed in the penthouse like two ships in the night. But then, something had changed. Instead of coming home to an empty penthouse, I’d arrived to Wick cooking dinner.

And not just a simple meal. The man prepared a four-course meal that made me wonder why he even bothered with a private chef. He’d done that for the last five nights, and I was already salivating at the thought of whatever he’d whipped up for this evening because I was hangry.

Exhaling a sigh of relief, I stood up as the clock finally moved to where it needed to be to liberate me from my workplace hell. I grabbed my purse from my desk drawer and closed my laptop.

“Alessia.” My boss’s voice always made me shudder a bit.

Gritting my teeth, I turned to walk the ten feet to his office instead of toward the elevators like the rest of my coworkers participating in the customary mass exodus. I didn’t miss the few sympathetic looks shot my way.

“Yes, sir?” I asked, my tone the epitome of politeness as I hovered in Kirkland Covington’s office doorway.

Kirkland Covington was a pretentious asshole with thinning brown hair and watery blue eyes that were too small for his round face. His hooked nose and the spectacles perched on them gave him a severe look. The smile he gave me was somehow both patronizing and leering.

“Please, come in, Alessia.” He waved me forward. “And close the door.”

I hesitated for a second, opting to only mostly close the door before hurrying forward to sit in one of the two chairs across from his wide oak desk. “Did you need something else before I leave for the day?”

“In a hurry to get home to your new husband?” Mr. Covington winked at me with a knowing smirk that felt all kinds of icky.

I tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. News of my marriage to Wick Forrester had been splashed across every newspaper and tabloid in Manhattan, along with our wedding photo. I’d smiled through most of the congratulations my coworkers had offered, and grimaced through a few of the cattier comments from some of the women who had no problem wondering aloud how I’d landed a man like Warwick.

Tension gathered in the base of my skull, a dull throb settling behind my eyes.

“Alessia, the truth is, your performance these last two weeks has been… well, for lack of a better term, unimpressive.”

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