Page 21 of Scar

“There’s no way I’m going to respect anything you do if you don’t do the same for me.” She narrows her eyes at me but says nothing. I take this as my cue and continue. “You’re going to that party tonight, whether you like it or not.”

She chucks her chin higher, her defiance meeting my stubbornness. She thinks she has it all planned out, but I can be a stubborn ass when I want to be.

“I don’t have a dress,” she says.

“Because you ruined another perfectly good dress,” I hiss. I couldn’t give a shit about the dress, but I need her at that function.

“See,” she points out, ever the smart ass “I don’t have a dress.”

“Yes, you do,” I say, smiling viciously. “You’re wearing that dress, regardless of the current condition it’s in. And you’re attending that party with me, whether you like it or not.”

“Not.”

“Sorry?” I turn my ear toward her, as if straining to hear her words, daring her to repeat them.

“The dress is wet, Scar. I can’t wear a wet dress to a function.”

She smirks, knowing she’s right. I smirk harder, knowing I’m at the end of my rope and I don’t care. Who in their right mind buys themselves a troublesome burden? What the hell wasI thinking when I married her? I should’ve just put a bullet in Don Marone and been done with them both.

“The dress is wet,” I agree, my voice a soft purr as I move closer to her. I take a strand of her hair and twirl it around my finger. She regards me with suspicion; I’m too calm and too level-headed for her tastes, and I can see worry creasing in her brows as she wonders what I’m up to. “The dress is wet, and you don’t have another. So, you have one of two choices.”

Her breath hitches, and I can just make out the tremble in her lip. It’s her tell; she’s getting nervous.

“You can wear the wet dress, or you can go naked. Take your pick, wife. I’ll let you choose.”

She starts to argue. Like I knew she would. I silence her with a hand to her mouth. Not firm, but enough that she knows I mean business.

“Before you go ahead and say anything that’s going to ruin you forever, let me paint you a picture, Allegra.”

I walk her backward toward a nearby lamp table and bend her over backward, my hand never leaving her mouth. Her eyes widen as I kick her feet open and place a firm thigh between her legs, leaning into her.

“Wet dress,” I start, smacking my lips together to make a wet sound. “Naked,” and I roll my eyes in a way that tells her it’s something I’m looking forward to. “Or you can skip the event altogether and I can throw you in the dungeon. But mark my word, Allegra. If you go into that dungeon, there’s no coming back out for you. Ever.”

If it were possible, her eyes widen further, until I see the stain of liquid as it escapes out of the corner of her eye and slides down her cheek. She’s got a hard decision to make, but she put herself in this position. And now she is reaping what she has sown.

“What’ll it be, Allegra, hmmm?”

I lift her from the side table and set her on her feet. My eyes dare her to challenge me again, but she says nothing as she rushes out of the room before her carefully constructed dam can collapse.

She wears the dress. It must weigh heavily on her, but she’s somehow done a good job of rinsing out the water to an extent that she could get the dress on without a problem. If I hadn’t found the dress and realized the damage she’d done to it, I never would have known that it was weighed down with gallons upon gallons of water. But there’s not a drop of water in sight as she walks beside me, her hand curled into my arm the way I instructed her in the car on the way over. Her hair is pulled into a low twist at the back of her neck, her barely there makeup overshadowed by her natural beauty. The black sequined gown shimmers under the light, the intricate patterns catching every glint and sparkle. The high neck elongates her neck, making it seem slender and elegant. The fabric clings to her curves, emphasizing her feminine figure.

I don’t miss the impression that she’s made on the crowd of guests. Nor do I miss the way she seemingly charms the pants off everyone that engages her, and I wonder what she’s up to as she acts out the role of the perfect wife. I’ve never seen this side to her, not in the month we’ve been married, and I get that this wasn’t a union of her choosing, but why couldn’t she just make things easier on herself? On me?

“So, what are we doing here?” Allegra smiles at me as we get a break from socializing, and we finally find ourselves alone. She reaches up and straightens my tie. I run a finger down the side of her head, smoothing down her hair. To any outsider looking in, it would seem like we’re two lovers whispering sweetnothings. When that couldn’t be further from the truth, two invisible knives poised at the ready.

“Making the rounds. Putting in an appearance for good measure.”

“These are your friends?” She snorts her derision without once looking like she’s doing it.

“I wouldn’t call them friends,” I tell her. “Business associates. Not friends.”

“Well,” she smiles sweetly “I’m not your friend, either.” I guess her knife is held higher than mine.

“No,” I whisper. “You’re not. You’re my wife. And soon you’ll be my lover.”

Her smile slips. Before she has a chance to recover, I lean in and plant my lips against hers, forcing her mouth open against mine. It’s quick, just a taste, and it ends just as quickly as it starts, but I can’t ignore the way her breath hitches when I move away and find her staring at me, breathless.

“That was for the benefit of my ex,” I tell her. “She’s been watching us like a hawk ever since we arrived.”

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