Page 52 of Unbreakable Vow

“With that asshole? No.” I shake my head. “You don’t need to work. I told you that already.”

“Sergei.” She lowers her voice. “I’m not going to fight with you, but I have to go. I’m due to start in half an hour, and I’m not sure what traffic’s going to be like.”

I wrap my arm around her shoulders and lead her back to the door, out into the hallway. “You’re not working.”

“You’re being unreasonable.” She squares off with me. “I told you last week that I was looking for a job. We never discussed me not working at all.”

“You’re being difficult.” I pull the door closed slightly. It’s not enough for them not to overhear if they really want to, but I’m not going to chastise her in front of them. As bratty as the woman can be, she’s not a child.

“Sergei. I need money.”

“I have more than enough.”

“That’s your money,” she says as easily as if she were telling me my shoes were untied.

“You’re my wife. Are you suggesting that I won’t take care of you?” My jaw aches from controlling my voice this much.

“You’re already doing way more than we agreed. It’s only right I have a job for my own expenses. And it’s only part time. I don’t get shifts here often, so I have to take them when I get them.”

“You have a job already.”

“If you say my job is to take care of the house and be at your beck and call, I will kick you. I don’t care if your cousins are in there.” Her cheeks flame with her threat, and I’m sure she would do it.

Or at least she’d try.

“I have a staff that takes care of the house,” I scoff. “School. You’re supposed to be looking into school. That’s your job,” I repeat.

She looks surprised. Like I’d forget the conversation we had only a day before. As though I’d forget anything she tells me.

“Consider this next year as your time to work on that.”

“But when it’s over, I’ll need work experience.”

“When this is over…” I pause, I hate that fucking phrase. “If it comes to that, you’ll have money. You won’t be turned out without income.”

She eyes me suspiciously. “You’re not just trying to keep me locked up here?”

“You said you like working at a coffee shop, you can do that. There’s one two blocks down, I’ll have someone take you.”

“I don’t need a chaperone.”

“Security,” I correct. “And you do.”

“I can’t just not show up for my shift though. And I agreed to take on someone else’s. They’ll be short if I don’t go.”

“This is the boss who berated you in front of a restaurant full of people, yes? The one who kept jabbing his finger at you while he was mistreating you?” He’s lucky he still has his fucking fingers at all.

“Well, yeah. But it’s not him I care about. The other servers will have a harder night if I don’t go.”

Of course, she would think of them first.

“It will be taken care of,” I say, already sending a text message out to get a waitress from one of our restaurants over to the country club.

“What do you mean?” She raises up to her toes and tries to peer over my phone.

“They won’t be short staffed, and you won’t be going. Get out of that uniform and burn it.”

“Burn it?” She laughs. “You hate me having a job that much?”

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