Page 47 of Bound to a Monster

Her grin is vicious now, and she’s definitely fucking with me. Only I don’t know how. “How about this? If I can change his mind, you get me new fencing gear.”

I raise my eyebrows. I was going to buy her whatever fencing shit she wanted—so that’s an easy deal to make.

“I didn’t realize you were going to take me up on the basement offer.”

“Natalya convinced me. And I figure new, very expensive gear is exactly what I need to really keep me motivated. Do we have a deal?”

“Alright, little fencer. You convince Emory to keep supplying Fed after my father’s deposed, and I’ll get you whatever you want.”

“Perfect. Let me get changed and we’ll go visit him before he leaves his office at eight.” She finishes her water and stalks out.

“How did you know he’s always there until eight?” I call after her, but she doesn’t respond.

I don’t like this.I don’t like it one fucking bit.

Carmie’s got a big, shit-eating grin on her face as I park in front of the office tower downtown where Emory keeps an office, and I really,reallydon’t like where this is going.

“Something wrong, husband?” she asks sweetly, leaning toward me, pressing her arms together and batting her eyes.

She’s in a low-cut dress that shows off way too much fucking cleavage, and right now she’s pushing her tits together very much on purpose.

“I don’t know what you plan on doing up there, but you better remember that you’re my wife.” I pause and glance down ather chest despite my best efforts. She’s goddamn gorgeous, and I’m instantly half-hard.Shit, get it together. “My very pregnant wife.”

She seems very pleased with herself. “Relax. Emory’s a scuzzy prick. He’ll be too busy staring at my tits to argue.”

“I don’t approve of this plan.”

“You want him to keep on supplying your store with Rolexes? Come on, this dress isn’t even inappropriate. I’d wear it to a freaking funeral.”

My jaw grinds. “A funeral for a porn star, maybe.”

“Oh my god, you’re ridiculous. It’s seven-thirty already. You coming?”

I’d rather go home and find a new watch supplier, but Carmie gets out of the car before I can stop this farce. She strides to the building, and I growl in anger as I get out, feed the meter, and hurry after her.

Emory’s office is on the nineteenth floor. There’s usually a young, pretty receptionist out front, but she must’ve gone home for the night. His waiting room is nice, with black leather chairs and designer art hanging on the walls. Emory’s a lot of things—a prick, a bastard, a cocksucker—but he’s got really good taste. There’s a reason he’s been so successful all these years.

“Excuse me? Emory?” Carmie calls out in the direction of his ajar office door.

The man himself appears, looking annoyed. He’s in his sixties, thin gray hair, a paunch in the middle, sagging jowls, ugly stubble, but his clothes are perfectly tailored and expensive. Hisshirt’s untucked, and his tie is loose, and I can smell the whiskey on his breath from across the room.

The moment he spots Carmie, his scowl transforms into an enormous smile.

“Carmela Marino,” he says, walking over with his arms spread. “My darling girl, I haven’t seen you in years.”

“Hello, Emory.” She kisses his cheeks and gives him a half hug. I stand there, seething. “I hear you’ve been doing some business with my husband?”

He looks surprised and frowns at me. “You’re married to this one?”

“Unfortunately, yes.” She holds up her ring and wiggles her finger.

Emory squints at it. “Cheaped out on the stone.”

“It’s a perfectly good—” I start, barely concealing my anger, but Carmie interrupts me with a loud laugh and steers Emory into his office.

“Tell me what you’ve been up to,” she says, tossing me a hard look.

Fucking shit, I hate this.

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