Page 93 of The Devil's Pawn

She bites her lip and nods. “Yeah.”

“You’re trampling on my ego, Little Pawn.”

Bracing on one elbow, she leans forward and kisses me. “I’m not saying no. I’m saying there are things I want to ask you.”

“And you figure post orgasm is a good time?”

“Am I so obvious?”

With a sigh, I climb off her and flop onto the bed. “I’m an open book. Askme anything.”

She gives this adorable giggle. “You are anything but an open book. You’re fearsome. The staff are terrified of you.”

“As they should be.” I roll onto my side and tuck one arm underneath the pillow, cradling her hip with the other, pulling her close to me. “You’ve never been scared of me, though, have you?”

“No.”

I smile. “Tell it like it is, wife.”

“You know me.”

“I’m getting there,” I say softly. “So, what did you want to know?”

She doesn’t hold back. “Where do you go every Tuesday, and why are you so stressed, withdrawn, and sad when you return home?”

Fuck.

Chapter Thirty-One

ALEXANDER

It’s the killer question, and it must have been eating at her for weeks. It’s interesting she used the word ‘sad’ when the truth is that I come home on Tuesdays feeling as though I’ve been kicked and punched all over, making me want to kick and punch others in return. It’s why I’ve killed more on Tuesday evenings leading into Wednesday mornings than any other night. I crave an outlet for the pain, and wiping one more raping bastard off the planet usually does the trick in calming me down.

There’s no harm in telling her, though. It’s not a secret unlike, oh, I don’t know, having my doctor inject my wife with a tracker and birth control without her knowledge. Or keeping from her that I have no intention of fathering a child with her or anyone else. But sharing what happened to Annabel and my mother might ease some of the pain I carry inside, or partially fill the hole in my chest that, at times, is almost too much to bear.

“I go see a therapist. Her name is Lilian, and she’s a bitch.She’s also extremely good at her job and has helped me more than I can express.”

The sudden widening of Imogen’s eyes shows how shocked she is. Whatever she expected me to say, that wasn’t it.

“A therapist? Why do you need a therapist?”

“Because I lead such a charmed life, right?” I smirk.

“I didn’t mean that. It’s that… you’re so… put together.”

“It’s an illusion. I’m a mess, or rather, I was until I found Lilian. I’d seen many therapists before her but hadn’t gelled with any of them. One was lucky to keep his teeth intact after our first session.”

She grins. “Did you give him your fearsome glower?”

I chuckle. “Yes, and he almost pissed himself.”

“Poor man.”

“Poor nothing. I swear he printed his diploma himself off the internet. Prick.”

“So.” She presses her palm to my face, and I lean into the tenderness of that small touch. “What is Lilian helping you with?”

I rub my lips together. It’s hard to know where to begin. “Did you know Saskia isn’t my only sister? That I had a twin?”

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