Page 9 of Silent Ties

I should be more cautious, but not to sound like complete street trash, I have a feeling I’d get lost in this place.

There’s no chance to fully understand my surroundings. It’s fancy crown molding and stiff and unused furniture. It’s not even that it’s guyish, it’s just. . . sterile.

He doesn’t bother to flick on lights until he gets to a bedroom—his bedroom—and reaches a bathroom. The light is too bright in comparison, but it’s not just that.

I stand there annoyed because I have ten thousand things I want to say to him.

Hey, I know this is weird, but please don’t hate me.

I got roped into this.

Please don’t kill me.

How do you feel about separate rooms?

Or divorce for that matter?

By the way, are you going to kill me?

“Lift up your dress.”

“What?”

He’s not even looking at me. His typical bored expression stretches across his face as he takes off his wristwatch.

“Lift up your dress,” he repeats, each word annunciated like he’s worried I’m too stupid to understand.

But I’m not.

My fingers pluck at the material, balling it up as I bunch it upward, the tiny gems digging into my palms.

He blinks like he’s surprised at how docile I am.

I could pretend like I am too but I’m standing in front of mafia royalty.

“Whose idea was it to not wear any underwear?”

My face is already red from the way he stands and stares.

“Yours?” he presses. “Or Marissa’s?”

For the first time I see the anger beneath the mask of calm and that scares me more. Being bored is one thing. Being apathetic until the beast rises is another.

Fear rises when he steps closer, those dark eyes glancing down at my bare pussy in a way that makes me want to squirm.

I do squirm, lifting on my tiptoes, when he runs one finger against me.

“Answer me, Mrs. Zimin.”

“They didn’t give me any underwear.”

The granny panties weren’t going to cut it when I arrived at Marissa’s and it was one more way for her to twist the knife in my back. She thought it was funny or maybe a gift for the groom. Easy access.

He lets out a sigh, possibly disappointed in my actions, and leans down to turn on the tap. The giant bathtub fills.

It’s death by drowning then.

“Undress,” he orders but to my curiosity he does the same, tugging at his buttons.

---