Page 116 of Sinful Bride

“Hold on.” I lift a finger just for good measure. “You said your first wife. Are you…?”

“I’m not letting that woman slip through my fingers ever again.” He winks at me. “That should be answer enough, da?”

Truth be told, this man raises more questions than he ever answers. And, just like my infuriating husband, I know he holds things close to his chest as a means of maintaining control over his world.

I snicker at the thought of Arlo pulling half the shit Pasha’s done with me. “I’m honestly surprised you haven’t flown her to an Elvis chapel in Vegas by now.”

“Ah, see, there’s the difference between you and her. You know how to fight for yourself now.”

“She puts up a good fight, huh?”

His grin widens. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. And I know for a fact, neither would your husband. He may not say it out loud, but he’s immensely proud of you.”

“You’re right: he doesn’t say it out loud.” I smirk so he knows I’m just teasing. I’ve come to accept that Pasha is not one for expressing his emotions via poetry, or soliloquies, or carrier pigeons, or… ever, really.

“You should also be proud of yourself,” Arlo says. “I don’t know your story, but I can see you are a force of nature. That is needed in a woman who wants to be with a man like him. Men like us.”

41

DAPHNE

I carry Arlo’s conversation with me throughout the rest of the day. I’ve never seen myself as a “force of nature” before. More like the trees that get flattened by said force.

But maybe he’s right. After all that I’ve not only endured, but both fought and accomplished in just over a year…

What else could I be, if not a woman to be reckoned with?

“I think I’m ready to go back to work.” I finish rubbing my moisturizer on my neck and check Pasha’s reflection in the bathroom mirror.

Sure enough, he pauses mid-hamper rummaging. “It’s too soon.”

“It’s been a few weeks. I’m fully mended.”

“It’s not safe for you.”

“When will it ever be safe for me?” I screw the cap back on the tub and place it back inside the cabinet. Not facing him head-on is helping my nerves.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Okay, so maybe that didn’t come out exactly how I meant. “There’s always going to be something and you know that. Conrad is gone, so then it was Brittany. Brittany is gone, so now it’s going to be my parents—and you know they’re going to come around at some point,” I add when he opens his mouth again.

“All the more reason for you to stay home.”

“No.” I turn around and lean against the counter, spanning my hands on his waist as he steps closer to me, huge and shirtless. “All the more reason for us to show our strength.” I smooth my fingers over his abs. Feel the way they shift as he breathes. As he leans closer to me, over me, bracing his hands against the counter on either side of me. “We need to show everyone that we’re not afraid of them.”

His brow pops up. “And letting you go back to work will do that?”

“Not ‘letting’ me. Encouraging me. Supporting me.” I let my fingers wander down to the waistband of his sweatpants. “Like a good husband.”

“Mhm. A good husband keeps his wife safe.”

“And a good wife fears nothing because she trusts her husband to protect her no matter where she is.”

I know he wants to retort, but his breath catches when my hand dips inside his pants and wraps around his hardening shaft.

He groans. That’s all the encouragement I needed.

As I kiss down his chest, his hands move from the counter to my hips. Slowly, he shimmies my sweatpants down my thighs.

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