Page 23 of Koroleva

"Even if she’s worse than Maleficent?" His comment made me smile.

"You don’t know her, you haven’t even given her a chance, and remember, in the movie, Maleficent turns out not to be as bad as they say."

"I don’t care. I want her out. This isn’t a movie."

"Well, it seems to me that that’s not going to be possible and if you want to keep a roof over your head, you’re going to have to learn to get along with Nikita." The kid looked at me frightened.

"Are you going to throw me out?"

"I have no intention of doing that, but if you make her life miserable, she will insist on sending you to boarding school, and I hope not to have a reason to send you to one." I wasn’t serious, I’d never send that boy away from my home, he’d had enough hardship already. But I couldn’t let him think he could call the shots or ride roughshod over me. He needed to understand his place and that there were decisions in which he had no say. "Think about it. I think you could make a small effort to not get along too badly, even if she is blonde." I used his own words against him, and he grunted.

I ruffled his hair and stood up. Adriano was a smart kid, he would turn out alright, I knew it.

I was about to return to my seat when my boisterous family fell silent.

I turned my head to understand what had caused them to fall silent, and then I saw it. She appeared in the doorway of the hall.

My infernal wife had changed her outfit and hairstyle into something damn insane.

The pompous wedding dress was replaced by something much more fitting and in line with the woman who burst into the bar last night.

It clung to her silhouette perfectly. It featured two longitudinal slits along her legs that opened with every step she took, ending dangerously close to the pubic bone.

She wore no veil, nor did she have waves in her hair, but that simple symmetrical cut that framed her face.

She scanned the room until her eyes landed on me. My mouth was as dry as a bone.

She gave me a crooked smile and walked towards me with determination, swaying her hips, allowing the exposed skin of those long legs to become a vivid reminder of the previous night.

The music that played was not on the playlist I had provided to the hotel for the wedding.

She must have asked the DJ to play that Christina Aguilera song I knew all too well. Sex for Breakfast.

With her stride, she owned it as she approached me.

Twisting and turning makes my appetite keep growing stronger, all night long.

Anticipating the morning, lying. I can't wait much longer; it feels so strong.

When she stood in front of me, she brazenly caressed the back of my neck to grab hold of it and performed a wavy dance move. Her pelvis was pressed against mine. She used the grip to trace a semicircle with her back.

I had no choice but to take her tiny waist when the lyrics sang out:

Our bodies touch, I can't get enough.

I wanna love you, love you, love you, love you, love you, yeah.

She placed her face in front of mine and licked her lips while my guests whistled, pleased with the show.

"What are you doing?" I asked. She smiled.

"Dancing with you. Aren't the newlyweds supposed to dance? I didn't like the song you chose; I think this one suits us much better."

She grabbed my tie and pulled on it, aiming to reach the center of the room where a space had been set aside for dancing.

I won't let you sleep; I need to satisfy my cravings.

I need to love you, love you, love you, love you, love you, yeah.

---