Page 190 of Morally Corrupt

Adrian leads me to the table, pulling the chair for me like a gentleman—my gentleman. As he rounds the table to take his own seat, I let my eyes feast on him. He’s wearing a blue velvet suit that complements his olive tone perfectly and accentuates his hazel eyes.

He’s handsome—too handsome. Good thing there’s no woman in that orchestra to see him since I would have had to escort her out—perhaps give her some drugs to wipe her memory. Actually, what if there are gay men in the orchestra and they’re eating him up just as I am, imagining all sorts of lewd scenarios and undressing him with their eyes?

I snap my gaze towards the orchestra.

“All of you. Out.”

The notes falter before the music stops a second later.

Adrian’s eyes widen in shock and I can tell he’s about to make some excuses for me. But I won’t have it.

Only I am allowed to have lustful thoughts about my husband. No one else. And yes, he is my husband again, so I have legal claim over him once more.

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” I say, pulling on my dress to reveal the guns strapped to my thigh. This might be a fancy ballroom, but danger has a way of following me everywhere.

They finally rise from their seats and scurry out of the room.

“B…”

“Now.” I smile and sit down. “Where were we?”

“Why did you do that?” He frowns. “Do you know how hard it was to find an all-gay orchestra so I wouldn’t think about murdering them the entire night for staring at you?”

I blink. Then narrow my eyes.

I was right. We spent moments in here and they ogled him.

Unacceptable.

“And because of that, they could ogle you. Now I fixed it. You are welcome.” I nod at him.

He frowns.

“Welcome? He raises a brow.

“That I am the only one who will ogle you now.” I wink at him. “And I forgive you.”

He frowns again.

“You forgive me. For?”

Why is he so slow tonight? Never mind, I’ll forgive him for that, too.

“For the oversight. It seems we had the same idea about no ogling.”

His lips slowly tip up until he gives me such a radiant smile I find myself audibly sighing.

I’ve been doing this a lot lately. Sighing. But I guess I have had a lot of things to sigh about. Adrian wasn’t kidding about the romanticism of Venice. But that is odd too since I’ve never been a romantic before.

Perhaps it’s the fact that I no longer have the stress of my job.

Yes, that must be it. It’s also making me more murderous toward everyone who looks at Adrian, and that must be because I’m not killing enough people.

Makes sense.

A waiter comes to our table with a bottle of champagne and fills our glasses before starting us on appetizers.

I take a sip of the champagne and I immediately notice something off.

---