Page 29 of The Devious Husband

“What is that, Kitten?” I ask, intrigued. “Is that a fucking guillotine?”

She laughs, and the sound is like music to my ears. “Lex made it for me,” she says, sounding a little giddy about it. “It’s a cheese slicer in the shape of a guillotine.”

“How sharp is it?” I ask, concerned about how close her fingers are getting to it.

“Why don’t you put your hand in it, and you’ll find out.”

I reach for the device and Sierra instantly grabs my hand, bringing it to her chest as she turns back around to face me. “Are you insane?” she snaps. “What the hell, Xavier? That’s a blade.”

I cup her face, noting the way she’s trembling. “Be careful what you ask for, Kitten. There isn’t much I won’t do for you.”

She looks into my eyes like she’s only just realizing how completely fucking unhinged I can be. Sierra thinks she’s seen the worst of me, but she has no fucking idea who I was when I was younger, what I’ve done. She thinks she knows me well, but it seems she’s forgotten that the city we live in was named after us because we founded and ran it with an iron fist. Zach might be the mayor now, but we’ve always run this town, and it wasn’t always through legitimate means.

“Don’t ever get hurt on my behalf,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Then I suggest you handle me with care, Mrs. Kingston.”

Twenty-Seven

Sierra

“Come on,” Xavier says as soon as we’ve finished the cheese toasties I made for us. “Let me show you around. You’ll be living here, after all.”

I bite down on my lip in an attempt to keep from telling him that I know this place far better than he could possibly imagine. I’ve broken in countless times to wreak havoc, and each time I did, I lingered a little longer than I should have, trying my best to learn more about him.

“Let’s start here,” he says as he leads me to his home office. “Not that you really need an introduction to this specific room,” he says, throwing me a knowing look.

I blush and try to look as innocent as possible, and he grins at me as he grabs my hand and leads me to his desk. He presses my thumb against a near-invisible scanner at the edge of his desk, and the top drawer that I’ve never been able to get into springs open. I gasp in surprise, my curiosity nearly getting the best of me. I’ve always wanted to know what he hides in there, since there aren’t many hidden spots in his home.

“Everything I own is yours now too,” he says, his voice soft. “Nothing is off-limits to you anymore.”

Xavier lets go of my hand and reaches for the documents inside, his movements a little hesitant as he spreads them on his desk. “Your new passport, driver’s license, and bank cards,” he says, his expression unreadable. “That black card there is a duplicate of my own credit card, and it has no limit.” I part my lips to object, and he grins. “I’m well aware that you don’t need my money, but I still want you to have access to it. Perhaps it sounds strange to you, but I always imagined my wife buying whatever she wants with my card.”

I reach for the card, my heart skipping a beat when I realize it says Sierra Kingston. It suddenly feels so real, so official, and I can’t help but feel a little conflicted. “But you never imagined your wife to be me. You should save these kinds of things for the woman you’ll eventually marry, after me. That way, it’ll still be special.”

The thought of him with someone else fills me with unexplained rage, and I try my best to school my features as I place the card back down on his desk. Xavier searches my face, his eyes twinkling with something I can’t quite read. “Didn’t I?”

“What?” I ask, confused.

He just shakes his head and smiles cryptically as he reaches for my hand and pulls me along. Xavier shows me his gym, the guest bedrooms, his pool and spa, the media room, and the gardens, but all the while, I can’t really focus on anything but the fact that he’s entwined our fingers, and he hasn’t let go once. I should probably object, but oddly enough, I don’t want to. His hand feels huge against mine, but in some kind of strange way, it’s reassuring too.

“Let me show you my favorite room,” he says, side-eyeing me as we walk toward his garage. “Though I’m well aware you’re very well acquainted with it.”

My eyes widen innocently and I wisely keep my retorts to myself, earning me a husky chuckle. “I’d tell you where to find all the keys,” he says as he reaches for the cupboard that holds all his keys, his eyes narrowed. “But you already know where they are.”

He lets go of my hand and reaches for one specific key that seems to be shaped like a cat, and I frown when he hands it over. “This is yours,” he says, before grabbing my free hand and pulling me to the bespoke matte black supercar on the round platform — the one that nearly got me caught last time. Xavier tips his head toward the new numberplate on it, and I stare at it wide-eyed. MRS. KINGSTON, it reads. “Lexington made it for you. It doesn’t have the Windsor Motors branding on it because it’s meant to truly be a one-of-a-kind car, so instead, it has an entwined S and K as its logo. It’s armored and bulletproof.”

I frown in confusion, mentally doing the math. Our engagement was announced two months ago, but I know my brother and his work better than most, and it would’ve taken him at least a year to build this kind of car. I suppose it’s not impossible for him to have done it quicker if he prioritized it above all his other work, but still. It doesn’t really add up.

“I can’t drive that,” I murmur, my face blazing hot. “The media would lose its mind.”

Xavier looks at the numberplate and sighs. “Someday,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. He clears his throat and runs a hand through his hair. “Come on, there are two more rooms I have to show you.”

I frown in surprise, certain this is all of it. I’ve spent many hours sneaking through his house throughout the years, and I know for a fact that there aren’t any more rooms. Xavier turns and heads toward the exit, and I instinctively grab his hand. He looks down in surprise, and I quickly pull my hand out of his again, realizing what I just did. The way he smiles as he grabs my hand and holds on tightly makes my heart skip a beat, and I look away, unable to face him.

“I think you’ll like this, though not as much as you’ll like the last room,” he says as he leads me back toward our dressing room.

I gasp when he pushes against one of the panels against the wall, and it slides open, revealing a walk-in vault similar to my own. “No wonder you were able to find mine,” I grumble, and he chuckles as his hand wraps around my shoulder, and I try my best not to notice how delicious he smells, and how incredible his abs look up close. I secretly touched them this morning, and it was almost like I was in some kind of trance. I didn’t even fully realize what I was doing until he groaned, and I’ve been wanting to touch him again ever since, certain that I imagined how his body felt.

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