Page 137 of My Broken Bodyguard 3: Catch & Bianca

“Bianca,” GT interrupted, his voice strained. “You don’t mean that,” he groaned, desperation heavy in his tone.

I ignored GT’s statement.

“You went on a crazed warpath. So yeah, you don’t need me.” I was so upset with my husband.

“If there’s nothing in the kitchen, I’ll ask one of your many bodyguards to grab something for me to eat,” I huffed before turning on my heels.

My husband wasn’t going to let me get my revenge. And it hurt. Eyes wide I stared at the mini muffins in a cute wicker basket sitting on the counter. An array of my favorite chips sat on the counter too. I didn’t have to open the fridge to know my favorite beverages were inside.

Bianca, you’ll have to give up torturing. Even though it was short lived. Damn, I was just developing a taste for it.

Tingles shot through my body at the thought of our time in the shower this morning.

“He loves me,” I muttered aloud.

“I do love you, Bianca.” His deep sexy voice filled the room. Catch’s big strong hands gripped my waist from behind.

“I’m obsessed with you,” he admitted.

His soft lips pressed against the side of my neck. “I see red when I find out men verbally or physically abused you. I’ll have to learn how to enjoy the torture through you. As much as I want to kill both of those bastards in the other room. I have to give you GT.”

Catch breathed me in.

I turned in his arms, staring up at him. Speckles of blood dotted his handsome face.

“Thank you for loving me so hard.”

“Bianca, I don’t know another way to love you.”

Easing up on my tippy toes, I kissed my husband’s bloody lips. “We need to wrap this up, because I need you inside me as soon as possible.”

He flashed a cocky smirk. “I can’t wait to watch Mrs. Bianca Rizzo come all over my dick.”

Catch’s heavy gloved hand came down on my ass. A long sting followed.

“Ouch,” I bit out.

“After you eat your muffin, take care of GT,” he suggested.

I smirked. “Ok, I will.”

Fifteen minutes later, I strolled toward GT feeling refreshed. The taste of my favorite brand of fruit punch cocktail danced on my tongue.

“GT, sorry to keep you waiting. No, I’m not,” I chuckled.

Head hanging low, he wheezed, “You don’t have to do this.”

My sexy as sin husband sat on a stainless-steel table behind me.

“You know I do. GT, you blackmailed me. If you had told Man-Man that bogus story that I stole the money to help my family, he wouldn’t have cared about our childhood friendship.”

He knew I’d never steal from Man-Man. But GT needed something to hold over my head so he could carry out his despicable power play.

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

MY REVENGE CARRIES ON

BIANCA

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