Page 8 of Yours Suddenly

I was going to bring her home.

A part of me thought she would run, that she would realize what kind of man I was and the lifestyle I led. My days aren’t all doom and gloom but they’re not all roses either.

My history is marred with violence and blood. My father killed by his competitors while vying for land to build empires on. With his death, we were thrown from riches and into poverty. My eight-year-old self remembers my mother weeping because of our new, miserable life.

So I began to hustle, I began to kill to survive, I began to steal from thieves. I bought stocks, sold them. Soon enough, in my late teens, well after I graduated from college, I bought my first house. By the time I was twenty-three, I was worth one hundred million dollars, and now at twenty-five, I'm worth a billion.

I’d say that amount is enough to keep my mother, my sister, my cousins and myself afloat for life. Even our children's children will be able to thrive on this money.

But the thing is, in this ruthless world, you don’t stop. You keep going because it's kill or be killed. Dominate and intimidate or else it will happen to you.

My new wife, Alexandra. The most beautiful woman I've ever seen. A woman who lights a flame inside of me. When I look at her, I can't fucking breathe. I want to swallow her whole. Each night we make love, I can't believe her tits are in my mouth, my fingers deep inside her wet cunt. When she looks up at me with my cock in her mouth, it takes everything in me not to lose it. I fuck her until she can't walk, until she's screaming and there’s a high chance rest of the mansion, all my cousins in their various rooms, will hear us.

After she stepped out of the double doors of her apartment building, I got onto one knee. She came down the stairs and I asked, “Will you be my wife, even though I just met you?”

And she saidyes.

That first kiss?Fuck. Soft, wet pillowy lips. And the moans coming out of her as I jammed my tongue in her mouth, marking her as mine, drove me crazy. I brought her home that night, to herrealhome, but I didn't make love to her yet. I wanted her in my house, close to me, breathing the same air she breathed.

I gave her a tour of my mansion which stands in a vast estate. We were quiet, making sure to speak in hushed tones because we didn't want to wake everyone else in the house. She wasn’t tired anymore, the proposal had made that evaporate.

She marveled as I showed her room after room filled with modern and antique art and furniture, the two family dachshunds following us, curious about this new woman who smelled like grass and bright summer days.

The house tour soon brought back her drowsiness and she fell asleep as soon as her head touched the pillow on my king-sized bed. I could tell she felt safe here. As I watched her, her full lips, her perfect nose and perfect eyebrows, I promised the family members she lost I would take care of her.

She was in good hands.

The morning after, she woke to a flood of new clothes. At the ass crack of dawn, I had my right-hand man and lookalike cousin, Tristan, tell one of our household assistants to get her clothing from high-end stores. She was in a cheap dress, and even though I will always like how sexy it looks on her, she won't be wearing anything below a certain price from now on.

She was more than delighted to see all the new stuff. There was a little whiplash there, a little guilt, but I told her not to worry, that this was nothing and there would be more. Much, much more. She sank back into the pillows on the bed, brought her fingers to her temples and said, “What is going on right now?”

I arranged for people to get her stuff from her apartment, and it was then that she suddenly burst into tears.

“It's just that,” she said in the grand foyer as some of her furniture was being taken down to the basement, “I don't know if I'm dreaming.”

“I don't know if I am, too,” I said. She was wrapped in my arms, her heartbeat against mine, and I breathed in the scent wafting up from her hair. Fuck, she smelled so good.

I called a family meeting in the dining hall. My dozen cousins and their partners and kids along with my mother and sister shuffled in.

“This is Alexandra,” I said, gesturing at her next to me from my position at the top of the long table where my father used to sit as the head of the family. “We are getting married today at City Hall.”

My mother, short and olive-skinned, squealed in delight and ran to Alexandra, locking her in an embrace. I watched amused and a little annoyed because Mama was going to suffocate my fiancée. My sister, a younger version of my mother with my father’s sharp chin, laughed, and joined in the assault on my woman.

“Now,” I said, “no need to squeeze her so hard.”

“It's just unexpected,” Adrianne said. “And you're sobeautiful!” she added to Alexandra.

“Thank you,” Alexandra said, red as an apple.

Fuck, I hoped we were not overwhelming her. She giggled as I checked her for signs of asphyxia and her little laugh made me breathe an inward sigh of relief.

After she familiarised herself with the cousins and the kids, it was time to go to the courthouse. I wanted to goimmediately.Each moment she wasn’t my wife was torture. Dramatic, but that was what it felt like, for fuck's sake.

But everyone wanted to wear their best and look their best, particularly Mama and Adrianne, who were not expecting this and who wanted to make today memorable.

“You get a new outfit from fucking Prada every day,” I said to Adrianne in her vast, messy room full of plants. “Can’t you wear your old stuff?”

“No, this is a special day,” my sister snapped. “By the way, it has nothing to do with you, but with me. I get to have a sister-in-law. A sister finally.”

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