Page 16 of Black Widow's Kiss

Instead, my father’s men broke a few fingers, took his key and ushered me up. The elevator opened to his apartment. Staring at the surprisingly tasteful décor, open space, and the central park view from the wall-length sliding glass doors, I didn’t hate it.

“This will do,” I said instructing the men to deposit my belongings in the living room and be off.

Once alone, I looked around at the place again. Immediately I saw how someone could be thrown from the balcony, deboned with the knives in the kitchen, and suffocated by any of the surprising large selection of throw pillows.

For exits, there was only one way out, the elevator. Buildings like this required a second exit for fire safety purposes. I’d have to figure out where that was.

Now here was the most important question. Did he have security cameras? Everyone under the age of 70 in his situation would. My father, as stuck in the old country as he was, had a camera in every room. Even mine.

When I ripped it down, his men would put it back up.It annoyed me until I discovered how much I enjoyed putting on a show. What made it better was that I didn’t know who was watching or if anyone was watching at all. When I did see someone react differently to me after a particularly vigorous show, I waited until they were alone and marked them.

Nothing dramatic. I just gave them a small vertical cut under their left eye. In a few months, most people would barely notice the scar. But he would know it was there and would never forget. They never ruined my fantasies again after that.

So, did my husband have cameras tossed about? Slowly circling the space, I had to find out. The living room was spacious and cream-colored luxury, but camera free. The kitchen was modern and looked surprisingly used, but still, there was nothing that recorded.

There were three bedrooms to choose from. Two were unoccupied guest rooms with king-sized beds but no cameras. And finally, his bedroom.

I got a little rush walking towards it. What would the bedroom of a man who kissed like that look like?The answer, it looked like sex.

There was a scent in the air. Was it his? It ripped through me raking my insides. A wave of heat billowed around my neck and spiraled down ending in my crotch. I was so hard it hurt.

More than that, there wasn’t a camera in the place. Not just his bedroom, the entire flat. There could be only one reasonfor that. My hubby did things here that he didn’t want recorded. And, that kiss…

Oh, I was going to fuck him. I would peel back Tom Ford, grab hold of what slithered out and suffocate it with my throat. I would become one of his secrets. Looking around at the space again, there was no question, this would work out quite nicely.

Hearing a chime that drew my attention to the elevator, I nearly choked. He was here. My husband had arrived. There was nothing that made me nervous but hearing it, my legs shook. Look at me, the virgin bride.

Searching for the bathroom, I rushed into it and checked my face. I wanted to look perfect. Well, maybe not perfect, but my makeup had to be flawless. Adjusting the creases on my suit, I gathered myself, walked back to the bedroom’s door and presented myself to him.

I saw him before he saw me. I used the extra time to pose in the doorframe. This would be his first impression. The pose had to be dramatic. It was. And when he turned around and our eyes met, he froze.

It was like the moment before our kiss. I could see into him. He was rage and fire under molten crust. At any moment he could explode. Feeling his fury rubble to the surface, I inhaled trembling and…

“Ugh,” he grunted, turning away bored and heading toward the kitchen.

Wait? Did he just “ugh” me? Anger, lust, and madness exists and he… ignored me?

‘Oh no!’ I thought feeling a crackling in my head.

“Hello, your wife is home,” I informed him giving him a second chance.

He glanced back at me again.

“All I see is a boy dressed up in women’s clothes.”

In an instant, I became blind with rage.

“This is Alexander McQueen!”

“I don’t know who that is. And watch what you touch with all that makeup on. Either that or learn how to use a steam cleaner.”

It was then that my mind floated to another place. It was there that I realized that I hadn’t properly accessorized. I had thought bringing my knives too garish considering my form fitting suit. So, sprinting across the room before my husband could open the fridge, I borrowed one of his from the butcher’s block.

I would like to say that there was a reason I chose the one I did, but I was no longer the one in control. The Black Widow had taken over and it seemed that she didn’t feel the way I did about the new man in my life.

With a quick strike, she plunged the paring knife into the back of my husband’s thigh. I didn’t expect to hear him scream. He had to know it was coming, didn’t he? Hadn’t he practically begged for it?

None the less, the poke woke him up. Still, I expected him to be quicker. Before he turned around, she had gotten him again. This time in the side. She did have a soft spot for him though, because she missed his organs. It was more of a Prince Albert entering one side and coming out the other.

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