Page 43 of Wanted

“I have to work for a while,” he informs me. “Do you think you can manage on your own for a few more hours?”

I roll my eyes again, I’m not a needy girl who craves his attention twenty-four hours a day, and, although I don’t want to admit it, the computer will help me organize my inventory and manage my orders.

“Don’t blame me if you come back to find the house on fire,” I reply playfully.

Lionel kisses me on the lips and then on my wrist before returning to his cave, leaving me in the kitchen, listening in silence to the echo of my heartbeat.

After downloading my files from the cloud to the phone, my contacts and all those things, I stand looking at everything I’ve been saving, wondering what I should delete. Starting with a few photos, those are memories that I prefer not to have, and as Lionel said, we are writing a new story. One of the images is especially painful. After one of our fights, Lionel left the house furious. He returned later that night with a bouquet from the supermarket. I was on the sofa trying to distract myself with a movie when he entered the house asking for forgiveness. He gave me the flowers and insisted that the reconciliation be properly recorded. And obviously posted on Instagram, too.

I keep checking all my files when a little sound notifies me that I’ve got a new message.

Sender: Lionel Kral. A lump forms in my throat when I see the time the message was sent, around the time we were in the closet. Not to mention that the words that appear there take my breath away.

No, not in a good way.

Lionel Kral: You should remember you are mine.

Those words make my mind travel to Carrollton, more than that, to one of our weekends at home.

Fuck.

Chapter Fourteen

Two and a half months before…

“This all looks delicious, Stella,” he praised me as soon as he saw the dinner trays that I put in front of him at the table in our small, cheerful yellow kitchen. The house was tiny and old, but it was cozy and pristine after my mother, Alison, and I spent a weekend cleaning every nook and cranny.

When he smiled, my husband was the most handsome man to ever walk the face of the Earth. I wished he would do it more often, but the last few days he hasn’t come back in a good mood. “Well, you went out of your way to welcome me home.”

A special dinner. That’s what I thought when carefully choosing the vegetables in the store. They say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, right?

The time had come to share my dreams. I was sure that Lionel would support me in my decision. He was my husband, the man I had decided to share my entire life with. I supported his dreams, so I hoped he would do the same with mine.

We were making great efforts to stay afloat, moving into the rental—Lionel said that every newly married couple needed their own space, and I agreed—my expenses increased. Lionel was saving every penny from his salary to buy the old vineyard by the river as soon as possible.

A dream that perfectly complemented mine, since my idea consisted of expanding the small beekeeping company I inherited from my father. Bees and vineyards mix well. I did some research and it turns out that to check the plants’ condition, some winemakers plant rose bushes at the beginning of each vine row, which would provide food for my bees. Between the hive in my mother’s backyard, which produces clove honey, and the one in the vineyard, I would have a good selection.

Not only that, it turns out I had a profitable hobby since a little over a year ago, I started to make handmade soaps with honey and natural essential oils. At the time, I was only selling them to people around town, but I was sure they would love them and want to buy more. Soon other people beyond my county’s borders would follow.

All I needed was for Lionel to help me pay the rent on the house for a couple of months and support me in starting my process of going to college. The only option would be to tighten our belts. I was even willing to go back to living with my mother. After all, most of the time I was alone in this house. I had gotten used to the idea of having him from Friday to Sunday, sometimes until Monday, that’s how it was since the beginning and, unless we bought the vineyard, that’s how it was going to continue.

And when I started making money, I could help him, everything was coldly calculated.

And I was willing to do whatever I had to do to get away with it. A good dinner, a couple of drinks.

A blow job.

Whatever it took, I believed that Lionel really loved me, so helping me meet my goals the same way I did his will be expected, right?

I put the beer bottle next to his plate smiling. My seduction skills weren’t the best, but I was managing. I would have liked to buy something sexy to wear, but I didn’t think it was wise when the whole point was to save money. Not in new clothes, at least.

“This week was crap at work,” he complains and my sails went down a little, he wasn’t in the best mood. But still, I decided to stick with the plan. “This makes it all better, to be received like a king in your house. Thanks, babe.”

“It’s my pleasure,” I replied smiling, not only for the compliment but for what was to come.

“I bought two shirts this week. They’re quite expensive, so be careful when you wash them. Or better yet, do it by hand. I don’t want you to ruin them in the washing machine.”

Lionel always told me he had to spend a lot of money on clothing as part of his sales strategy. No one would think of buying fine wines from a vendor who arrives at the door in rags, so I did my best to be very careful with all his stuff.

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