Page 81 of Coercion

“Nice recommendation there.” I mutter.

He laughs, pulling me in tighter. “Keep up that attitude and I might just stay here all day and work it out of you.”

“You can’t.” I say. “Nico will not be happy if you pull a sicky.”

“It’s not a sicky. It’s doing my marital duties.”

“I doubt he’d see it as that.”

“No, he wouldn’t.” Preston says in a tone that’s suddenly so serious.

I still, feeling like the air has changed, that the entire tempo of the room has gone up a notch. “Preston?”

“What?”

“What aren’t you telling me?” I ask, because clearly there is something.

“Nothing.” He says.

I roll over, narrowing my eyes as I face my husband down. “You’re lying.”

His eyebrows raise. “What did you just say to me?”

“You’re lying.” I repeat. “I know you are.”

He shakes his head, pushing me off, getting out of the bed. “I wasn’t supposed to touch you. I wasn’t supposed to go anywhere near you.”

“What?”

“Nico ordered it. He said you were off limits.”

“Excuse me? Why the fuck would he say that?”

A micro expression crosses his face, one I can’t read. “He’s trying to protect you.” He says after a minute.

“Protect me?” I scoff. “He’s not my dad, he’s not...”

“I know, Ruby.” Preston cuts across me. “But if he finds out we’re fucking he’ll be more than just pissed about it.”

“So what, you want to hide this? Hide that you’re sleeping with your own wife?” How does that make any sense?

He doesn’t reply. He just walks away, goes to the closet and I hear the sound of him pulling out drawers, of him getting dressed. Apparently this conversation is over then.

When he comes back out, he’s fully dressed, in his usual black suit, white crisp shirt, and polished oxfords. For a second I gawp at him. He’s fucking gorgeous. How is this man my husband? How did I manage to land on my feet considering all the odds were stacked against me?

“You’re drooling, wife.” Preston teases.

I grin back at him. “And you’re late.”

He rolls his eyes before tossing something at me that I only just catch.

“The morning after pill?” I say looking at the pack. How did he just have this stashed in his closet?

“I sent one of the maids to get it.” He says, no doubt seeing the look on my face.

“Maybe we need something more permanent.” I reply.

To my relief, he nods. “I’ll sort it.” He says before walking out the door, leaving me alone in our bed.

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