Page 84 of Arranged Obsession
This woman can kill me. She can shoot me in the guts and watch me slowly die over agonizing weeks. And I’d still kiss her feet.
“Seven years,” she says quietly. “That’s a long time.”
“I know. It didn’t seem long to me though.”
“Time flies when you’re having fun?” She arches an eyebrow and shakes her head. “No, sorry, I shouldn’t crack jokes.”
“You can say whatever you want, feather.”
“Stop calling me that.” She snaps at me, jaw tightening. But she quickly gets control of herself. “At least until we’re done.”
“Whatever you want. Can I come in?”
“You and your mother are so polite.”
I flinch and look away. “I told her not to come.”
“She did anyway. Okay, get in here, just sit down please. You’re too freaking tall.”
I drift over and lower myself into a chair. Every fiber of my body wants to rush around that desk, grab my wife by the hair, andsmother her mouth with my lips. I want to take her, make her understand, make her see.
She’s my everything.
Most men say they’re devoted. They pretend like their wife is the love of their life.
It’s more than that with Bianca.
She’s my blood. She’s my bones. I can’t breathe right when she’s not around. I’d starve for her. I’d drown myself just to make her smile. Every single one of my heartbeats is for her.
“You’ve been breaking into my house for seven years,” she says, folding her hands together in front of her like she’s interviewing me for a job.
“Yes, I have,” I confirm. No more games. No more holding back. She needs the unvarnished truth.
“All I want to know is why.” Her facade cracks slightly. “Please, Cormac.”
I try to find a way to say it that doesn’t sound fucking insane. “Because without you, my soul is filthy and disgusting.”
Well, I could’ve probably done better.
Her lips pull into a frown and she shakes her head. “That doesn’t really explain anything. Why me? How did you even know about me?”
“You make me feel, Bianca. Your goodness. Your lightness. You try to do right even surrounded by everything that’s fucking wrong, and I worship you for it. I’m the darkness. You’re the light.”
“But that isn’twhy,” she says, getting frustrated. “Whyme?”
I push back my chair. “I’ll tell you the story, but I want you to see it all again.”
“What?” She flinches back. I hate the flicker of nervousness in her expression. “That room?”
“I know it scared you. I’m sorry for that. I really am. But I want you to see it all again, so you come to understand. That room isn’t a tomb. It’s holy ground.”
She stares at me. Her jaw tightens and her thumbs rub together. If only she could see how it feels with her in my life again, how I’ve woken up because of her, how I’m singing and speaking and running all because ofher, she’d understand. It isn’t stalking. Not something so pathetic.
It’s a holy mission.
I’m a crusader and she’s my promised land.
“Fine, but if I want to leave, you’re going to let me go.” She stands slowly. “Swear on your life, Cormac. The second I say I want to leave again, you’re going to step aside.”
