Page 45 of His Vengeful Tradwife

Finally, the lock broke and I ripped at the wood angrily.

So I was able to have a perfect view as four men brought my wife to the peak, her back arching hard from the bed, her screams muffled by another man's mouth, other fingers and hands and tongues buried in her as she groaned and shuddered for the full length of her release.

The wood scraped and tore at my skin as I burst through the door, and for a second they all froze as I snarled like a fucking feral bear and went right for the men pleasuring my wife.

"She ismine!" I roared.

My fist swung and connected with Lars' nose, knocking him away with a satisfying splash of blood. Then I heard a crack as Obonye broke one of my ribs, my foot connecting with Hans' balls.

And then everything was blood and chaos, and dimly, from a distance, over Tallulah's shrieks and the roars of the other men, I heard the ominous clink of handcuffs.

The next morning, the sunlight streamed through the tiny window of my onboard jail cell and I blinked, my back cramped from trying to sleep on the tiny bench, and my ribs aching.

As I rubbed my eyes, I heard a noise and I saw my father and Tallulah walking arm-in-arm along the hallway.

My father was brandishing some sort of lorgnette and holding a lace handkerchief over his mouth, like he was a character in the Scarlet Pimpernel and this was a filthy 18th century jail.

"Recognize this criminal?" he asked Tallulah.

My jaw felt knocked out of place where I'd been punched in the face by one or more beach volleyball players.

But what stung even more was the knowledge that if I hadn't been such a selfish jackass this would never have happened. If I hadn't let my ego get in the way of my relationship, Tallulah and I could have been happy together on this trip. And I knew I could never be happy without her.

I turned and dropped flat on my belly on the floor. Then I started to crawl over to her, pulling myself along with my elbows, digging into the ground to make my way over to Tallulah.

I kept my head down and when I got to my wife I clutched at the hem of her skirts. There were tears prickling at the corner of my eyes and I felt them leak between my tightly shut lids and onto the soft fabric.

"I've been a miserable disgusting worm, and you're looking at a broken fucking man, Tallulah."

Wrapping my arms around her ankles, I began to weep onto her shoes.

"I'm begging you flat on my belly like the worm I am to forgive me."

For several moments, she didn't speak, and I held her feet so tightly that there was going to be a permanent mark from her shoe buckles on my skin.

I prayed to every available God that she would see my miserable desperation and understand how sorry I was.

"Well, Maverick," she said. "You seem sorry, I suppose. But if you want a second chance, there are some terms and conditions. And I don't think you're going to like them."

CHAPTER 13

Tallulah

Iwon, I thought as I looked at my husband's upturned face, misery and regret etched on every line.

He had been baffled and upset when I took his divorce announcement with a cool face.

Jealous and enraged when he realized I didn't need him. I could easily find other men who would adore me.

His big expected promotion was gone, he was probably going to get fired, he now loathed his former mistress, and he had to sit with the disappointment and anger from our parents.

And he was sitting in jail with a black eye, courtesy of the four professional volleyball players who would happily have followed me back home.

Nowwas the time to finalize my triumph, stomp my foot in Maverick Laurent's fucking face, and tell him to go to hell.

There were no terms or conditions that could possibly make up for what he had done.

So what was stopping me?

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