Page 12 of I F*cked Somebody’s Wife

My heart beat steady. Calm.

Janelle was mine. I just had toremindher. And maybe teach her lil’ husband what happens when you touch what belong to me.

The game was only just startin’.

7

TELL HIM

Janelle

I came home to silence.

No TV, no light hum from the fridge, no “hey baby” call from the back room. Just that still, eerie quiet that pressed in on my chest like something waswrong.

I dropped my purse on the counter, nerves tinglin’. Then I saw it—right there on the kitchen table, like some sick love letter.

If you want your husband alive, come here.

1000 Obsidian scribbled in red ink.

I ain’t never moved so fast.

Didn’t call the cops. Didn’t call nobody. Just grabbed my keys, heart poundin’, and peeled off like my life depended on it. Maybe ‘cause it did. Or maybe it was guilt burnin’ a hole in my chest like acid.

I knew who wrote that note. Knew it in my bones.

Fontaine.

The address led me through the cut, to a black steel gate that looked like it led to hell. I pulled up slow, tires crunchin’ gravel, blood ringin’ in my ears.

The gate slid open like it had been waitin’ on me.

I stepped into a foyer laced in black marble and gold trim. That damn smell of blunts hit me in the face like memory and sin. My heels echoed off the tile as I walked in deeper, throat tight, nerves jumpin’ with every breath.

“Shut the door, baby,” came that deep ass voice from the shadows.

I turned, heart jumpin’ to my throat.

He was loungin’ on a leather couch like a damn king. blunt in one hand, legs spread wide in a silk black suit. Shirt open just enough to show that carved chest and those tattoos lickin’ up his neck like secrets. His skin looked smooth and rich like melted chocolate, and his eyes… his eyes were full offire.

I hated him.

And I wanted him.

“Where is he?” I snapped.

He smirked. “Damn, no ‘hi Daddy’? No kiss for old time’s sake?”

“You sick fuck!” I screamed, walkin’ toward him. “Where’s my husband?!”

“Safe,” he said, standin’ up slow. “For now.”

I got in his face. “I swear to God, if you hurt him—”

Before I could finish, his lips crashed into mine. Hot. Hungry. Like he been starvin’ since the last time I let him taste me. My hands balled up, pushin’ at his chest, but my mouth opened like it missed him.

“Don’t get your self fucked up for a dead man walkin’,” he murmured, breath heavy against my lips.

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