Page 21 of The Devil's Pawn

“Imogen.” Alexander’s clipped voice interrupts my third hug with Mom. “We’re going to be late, and I don’t like to be late.”

I grind my teeth. “In a minute.”

Mom gives me one last squeeze, releasing me into Dad’s arms, who hugs me briefly, then pushes me toward Alexander. “Go. Enjoy your honeymoon.”

“Indeed,” Mom says. “Your husband is clearly eager to get you all to himself.” She winks and grins. “Not that I blame him, my beautiful girl.”

Oh, God. She thinks we were up all night doing it, andAlexander’s impatience and, yes, rudeness, is because he can’t wait to get his hands on me.

I feel sick.

Parents should not have their child’s sex life on their minds. It’s… icky, and not something Mom has ever referred to before now.

Reluctantly, I walk over to my husband. He stands back, allowing me to climb into the car. He slams the door, drowning out whatever he says to my parents. I strain to hear their conversation, but it’s impossible. Maybe they soundproofed this vehicle or something.

About thirty seconds later, he climbs in beside me and tells the driver we’re ready to go. I wave to my parents until the car pulls away and I can’t see them anymore. Tears prick the backs of my eyes, and a couple spill over. I twist my body away from Alexander and wipe them away. The next thing I know, he’s passing me a white handkerchief, his initials and the De Vil family crest stitched into the fabric in navy blue. These people have that damn crest and their initials everywhere. They’re like dogs peeing all over their territory.

I take it from him. “You better not have blown your nose on this,” I mutter, dabbing the material beneath my eyes.

“I haven’t.” There isn’t even a note of amusement in his reply.

“Good.”

“I masturbated into it last night.”

I toss the handkerchief into his lap as though it had burst into flames. “Ugh. You’re disgusting.”

Rolling his eyes, he folds the handkerchief into a perfect square and puts it into his pocket. “It’s a joke, Imogen.”

“I didn’t think you knew the meaning of the word.”

“Since you don’t know me, that’s quite an assumption.”

“I’m only going off the evidence I’ve gathered since we met. Besides, how would I know you? You were the one who insisted we didn’t meet until four days before our wedding.”

He closes his eyes, and his chest rises and falls with a deep breath. “Are you going to continue to bring that up?”

“Probably.”

“Good to know.” He reaches into his inside pocket and removes a set of earbuds. After putting them in his ears, he taps on his phone screen, and his fingers drum on his thigh.

He’s listening to music.

Of all the rude, arrogant… assholes!

I pluck the bud nearest to me out of his ear. “Speaking of phones, I’ll ask again. Where is mine?”

He snatches the bud from me and glares, a look he’s perfected. “First of all, I wasn’t aware weweretalking about phones. And second of all, I had it recycled.”

He attempts to put the bud back in his ear, but I grip his forearm, stopping him. “Recycled? How… how dare you?”

He lets out an exasperated sigh. “You needed a new phone. I provided you with a new phone.”

“I don’twanta new phone. I wantmyphone.”

“I saidneed,notwant.” His lips thin, and a muscle feathers across his cheek. “Do you know anything about the family you’ve married into, Imogen?”

“I know enough.”

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