Page 96 of Merciful Lies

“Here, I’ll take him. This little man needs his dinner,” Mrs. Pirillo approaches and reaches for the baby.

Nico hands him over, turning to me with his eyes blazing blue fire. He takes my hand and leads me to our room.

Our bedroom is enormous. Twice the size of our old one with walk in closets and an ensuite bathroom that puts the one in the condo to shame. And that is saying something.

It’s more luxurious than anything I ever saw. But it suits my husband. And it suits me.

“So, um, I haven’t showered yet or anything,” I say, and I’m running my hand over my head, a lame attempt to tidy myself as he closes our door and turns to face me.

His gaze is hungry. He licks his lips and stares at my yoga pants and tank top like I’m wearing something sexy.

“I like it when you’re dirty, Wife,” he says, pressing me against the wall.

His lips close over my carotid artery. He sucks, then Nico bites down and my pussy clenches.

“You do, huh? Show me,” I say, my gaze half-lidded as I run my fingers up his neck and over his head.

“My pleasure, Wife.”

Then he drops to his knees. And I shake my head and moan as he tugs my pants down over my hips.

It might be his pleasure, but it’s definitely mine, too.

EPILOGUE TWO-NICO

Earlier that evening

Thunder roars in my ears as I rip off the crime scene tape surrounding my burned down warehouse.

We’ve got him. And I can’t wait to exact my revenge.

“She deliver?” I ask, and Luc nods.

“Took some persuasion, but after her old man died of an accidental overdose and Margaret O’Doyle made the executive decision to out this piece of shit,” Luc grunts.

I know he has a beef with the guy, too. Something having to do with Maria. But honestly, I don’t care.

I’m too involved with my wife and son to keep up to date on the romantic entanglements of my men.

I turn my gaze to Sanchez, and that asshole is mumbling behind the duct tape sealing his mouth shut.

“Yeah, I can’t hear you pal,” I tell him, and really I’m not interested.

“You fucked with the wrong man,” I say, then I get close, real close.

So close, I can smell the piss soaking his jeans.

Gross.

“I could have forgiven you for coming after my business. But you made this personal when you tried to hurt my wife.”

I rip the tape off.

“S-she wasn’t your wife then, man!” Sanchez says, like that fucking matters.

He doesn’t get it. He doesn’t understand.

Anna has always been mine.

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