Page 81 of Bitter Confessions

“This must be your wife,” the stranger said in an accented tone that made her straighten.

Apparently, the stranger was well-acquainted with Roth, because he wasn’t put off by Roth’s aggressive stance or his hostile silence. The man came to the end of Jasmine’s treadmill and offered his hand.

“Heinrich.”

She stepped forward. “Jasmine.” She cocked her head to the side and said in German, “What are you doing up at this hour?”

His eyes widened slightly before he shot an amused glance at Roth and replied in his native tongue. “Doing the same thing as your husband. Avoiding everyone as much as possible.” He gave her a considering look before adding, “We’re new to the United States. My wife doesn’t have many friends and speaks limited English. Would you mind meeting with her?”

She didn’t bat an eyelash at the request. “Of course. I’m sure we can arrange something.”

Johan jumped off his treadmill. When she glanced at him, his eyes dipped to Heinrich’s hand, which she was still holding. She hastily released him and stepped back.

“Great,” Heinrich said, abruptly reverting to English. “What’s your phone number?”

She wrapped her arms around Roth’s shoulders as he started toward Heinrich.

“Honey,” she gushed. “Isn’t this great? Heinrich’s going to pass my number onto his wife so we can get together for some girl talk!”

Mo appeared as Roth halted within arm’s length of Heinrich, who was grinning unrepentantly.

“See you at nine,” Heinrich said to Roth and nodded at Jasmine before ambling toward the weights, humming as he put his headphones back on.

She was glad Heinrich hadn’t pushed the issue about her phone number. She had a feeling Roth would have gone for his throat. Mo and Johan seemed to agree—they were watching their boss, who hadn’t moved a muscle. To break the tension, Jasmine hopped off the treadmill and wrapped herself around him.

“Let’s go,” she murmured.

Roth tucked her against him more tightly than necessary, but she didn’t complain. She led him toward the exit, aware the dozen or so men scattered throughout the room had all turned to watch. Maybe the gym at this hour was sacred bro time and she’d unknowingly broken the code.

When they were in the hallway, she explained, “Heinrich asked me to meet with his wife, who doesn’t speak much English and hasn’t made many friends.”

“How is that your problem?” he bit out.

“It isn’t, but it’s expected that the wives meet and socialize.”

“I don’t expect that of you.”

“I know, but if you want your business relationship to last, at some point, it has to go beyond the office. During functions, the wives mingle and entertain themselves while the men talk business.” When he made no comment, she bumped him playfully with her hip. “You have no idea how much useful information spouses will share when they’re with friends.”

When they boarded the elevator, Mo and Johan stood before them and stepped aside once they reached the penthouse.

She faced Roth as the elevator doors closed and searched his shadowed features. “I didn’t speak German to cut you out of the conversation. I saw an opportunity to break through formalities for a deeper connection and took it.”

He closed the gap between them, towering over her. “You don’t need any connection, deep or otherwise, with him or any man.”

She stiffened. “I meant a deeper social connection that you can utilize in future, for business and networking.”

“I didn’t marry you so you could create relationships with my peers. I don’t expect you to entertain them either. I married you for me. To have your undivided attention and unlimited access to this.” He cupped her between her legs, startling her so she backed into the wall beside the elevator. Roth followed, planting a hand on her belly as he leaned down so his face was inches from hers. “Your only obligation is to me. To be at my beck and call.” His teeth flashed in the darkness as he bared them in a snarl. “I don’t like you talking to other men, smiling at them, being familiar with them. That’s mine. Everything is mine. They don’t get to make you laugh, smile, even touch your fucking hand unless I say so. Do you understand me?”

His fury beat at her. It was out of proportion with the quick introduction that had taken place in front of him, but she wasn’t going to point that out. Just like she wasn’t going to explain the repercussions of her refusal to shake a man’s hand in the future. They could discuss that later, when he was being rational.

“I understand,” she said calmly.

He grabbed a handful of her jacket and twisted it around his fist as he hissed, “I hate the way men look at you. I wish your face were smeared with my cum twenty-four-seven so they’d know who the fuck you belong to.”

His possessiveness aroused, alarmed, and was slightly offensive. As gently as she could, she said, “You know I’d never cheat on you, right?”

She knew instantly that she’d fucked up. The hairs on her nape rose as the hand clutching her clothes went to her throat.

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