Page 34 of My Possessive Billionaire: Our Fake Marriage

My lips twitched a snarl, but I decided to let that one slide.

“Well, I really don’t see how it’s that big of a deal. Nobody else noticed all night.”

“It’s a big deal because you’re my wife, and you’re supposed to wear your wedding ring.” He seethed, jabbing a finger at me. “I told you specifically to make sure to wear your wedding ring. You’re mine. My wife is supposed to obey me.”

I gave him a long look.

“Again,sir, I am not your real fucking wife. I am your employee. So, you can stop treating me like a piece of property, because you don’t, in fact, own me.”

His eyes widened. For a second, crazy as it seemed, I thought that maybe he’d forgotten it was a fake marriage. I mean, he looked so confused. Then anger flooded into his gaze.

“Actually, Amanda, according to the contract you signed, Idoown you. You can read the sections again where it says that I get to dictate where you go, what you do, and when you do it. So you are going to obey me, for the next year, if nothing else.”

“Obey you?” I sputtered. “You’re stifling me. Can’t you see that? I can’t fucking breathe, Evan. You never let me out of the manor without being glued to your side. You tell me I have to eat breakfast with you in the morning, so you can stare at your tablet or your phone or the latest financial reports as if I’m a piece of furniture, anyway.”

“That assessment isn’t very fair to me,” he said.

“Oh please, don’t even start with that. Everything about this is fair to you. You get what you want, while I have to donate a huge chunk of my life. I’ll do it for the rainforest, and for saving Mother Earth. But I don’t have to like being treated like a piece of garbage, or property for that matter.”

Some of the anger had drained away from his face. He looked confused but he also looked thoughtful. My words were getting through to him, or so I hoped. And since I was on a roll, I kept right on going.

“You keep forgetting something very important. No matter what this contract says, I’m not your slave. I’m your fake wife. Wife and slave are not, in point of fact, synonymous, Evan. You want me to obey because I’m playing your wife? Do you have any idea how fucked up that sounds?”

My voice rang in the confines of the limo. Evan stared at me for a long while, his eyes calculating but full of something else, too. An inscrutable light I couldn’t fathom for the life of me.

“Don’t you see that it’s better my way? You need to obey me, because when you don’t, things like this happen.”

He pointed at my ringless finger.

“Something always goes wrong when I’m not in direct command of the situation. Always.”

I hid my face in my hand for a bit, unable to face him. I was afraid I would say something I would really regret, one way or the other. At length, I looked up at him in annoyance.

“You know, we’ve been arguing about this halfway home, and it’s so stupid. It’s all over me forgetting to wear my wedding ring. Big deal. You heard the reporter. He forgets his ring all the time.”

“My wife shouldnotforget to wear her ring,” he hissed through clenched teeth.

“You’re not just mad on a professional level, are you?” I said with a gasp. “I finally get it. I finally get why you just won’t let this go, why you have to keep harping on it.”

“Oh? Now you’re a psychiatrist as well as an event planner, are you? Adding to your fake wife resume?”

I sneered at him.

“Fine, if you don’t want to hear it, I’ll just sit here and be quiet like a good little submissive wife.

“No, I want to hear it.”

“Too late,” I said, looking out the window.

He grasped me by the shoulder and turned me firmly to face him.

“I said, I want to hear it.” His tone was cold, but his eyes burned like fire.

“Are you commanding me to tell you as my employer,sir?”

“Yes. I am commanding you. Now obey me.”

“I finally figured out why you’re so damn pissed off at me.”

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