Page 42 of Coerced Wife

I throw the strap of the bag over my shoulder. “Come on.” Taking her hand, I pull her to her feet. “Let’s go feed you.” I grab her coat from the stand and help her to fit it. “What do you feel like eating?”

“I don’t know yet.” She adds with spite, “As I said, I’m not hungry.”

“I know you, treasure,” I say with a chuckle, gripping her elbow and pushing her to the door. “In twenty minutes, that baby is going to demand to be fed, and you’re going to fall on the nearest plate of food like a vulture.”

She scoffs, but she doesn’t argue because I’m right.

My men stand outside. They follow us through the gallery and down the stairs.

Cleaners wipe down the tables. The candy floss scent of the floor wash they used is stickily sweet in the air. The barman takes stock before opening. He nods when we pass. A bouncer calls the elevator when we approach.

We wait as the numbers above the doors light up. I draw Anya closer and wrap an arm around her shoulders just because I can.

The doors open with ding. Two women in skinny jeans and puffy jackets exit. Their platinum hair falls straight down their backs.

The twins.

They wink at me, batting long, glittery eyelashes. Their full red lips curve with sultry smiles. I don’t know their names. I never ask. They speak a little English, but I’ve never been interested enough to strike up a conversation.

Next to me, Anya tenses.

The girls pass in a cloud of perfume, giggling as they glance back over their shoulders.

I lead Anya inside the elevator and hold the doors for my men. We ride down to the underground parking lot in silence.

Once the men have gone ahead to get the cars, Anya asks in a terse voice, “Who are those women?”

“Strippers.”

She faces straight ahead. “Did you fuck them?”

I’m not going to lie. I don’t have a reason to hide the truth from her. “Yes.”

She nods.

“Anya.” I put my hands on her shoulders and turn her to face me. “It meant nothing. Besides, that was before you.”

She utters a laugh, but it comes out wrong. “Does that mean we’re exclusive now?”

I tighten my fingers on her soft flesh. “We’ve been exclusive from the moment I put my dick inside you.” No, from the moment I laid eyes on her. My tone is full of ugly jealousy, claws of possessiveness threatening to dig a green monster from my chest. “If that wasn’t clear, let there be no misunderstanding about it.” I narrow my eyes, staring into the melted honey pools of hers. My voice is even, cold and calculated. “Touch another man, and he’s dead.”

She backtracks a step, her head jerking as she does a double take.

I grip her chin, forcing her to hold my gaze so that she can see the murderous rage and serious intent on my face. “If any man touches what’s mine, I’ll cut off his hands and throw them like treats at a pack of wild dogs. Then I’ll hang him feet down from a tree and lower the rope slowly until those beasts have eaten every morsel of meat clean off his bones.”

Her throat ripples as she swallows.

I let her chin go to cup her cheek, the gesture tender even as my smile is cruel. “Is that clear?”

She nods, her pretty eyes wide with fright, and fuck me if her fear doesn’t turn me on. Like a predator, it makes me want to hunt her down and chase her just so I can catch her and make her submit. The victory always feeds the part of me that needs to own her, but the conquest tastes sweet for both of us.

Kevin pulls up. The guards follow in two cars.

I set her free before I’m tempted to push her flat onto the backseat, pull up the partition, and fuck her six ways from Sunday like my beast demands I do. That monster doesn’t like to be provoked. He’s not human enough tohide behind practiced civility. It’s dangerous to poke him. It’s a mistake to unleash the chain that keeps him at bay.

I open the back door and help her inside before locking the laptop in the trunk. When I get in on the other side, she scoots to the door, thinking she can escape me. I anchor her next to me with a hand on her knee, keeping her where I want her, which is close. Always close. My thigh presses against hers when I get comfortable and spread my legs. Warmth bleeds from her body into mine. If I could, I’d mix our blood and pump the cocktail through both our veins so that we share the same life force. That’s how fiercely I need to own her. Anya doesn’t seem to feel the same. She tries to pull away without making it obvious by turning her legs sideways.

“Home, Mr. De Luca?” Kevin asks, catching my gaze in the rearview mirror.

---