Page 68 of Bloody Vows
She’s alive. She’s in my hands, not Sal’s. And whatever comes next, as long as she’s not in harm’s way, I’ll figure it out.
I started this relationship by saving her. Regardless of the disaster that our marriage has become, it’s my responsibility to keep her safe.
Even if I fully intend on yelling at her again about how foolish running away was.
Simone pushes past me, walking at a fast clip up the gravel to the stairs leading to the front door. I follow, dismissing my men with a nod, and catch up to her just as she reaches the door.
"Simone." My voice is rougher than I intended, and she pauses with her hand on the doorknob.
"I'm fine," she says without turning around. "I just want to go to bed."
She's not fine. I can see it in the rigid line of her shoulders, in the way she's holding herself like she might fall apart if she relaxes even slightly. But I don't push. Not yet. I’ve already pushed her tonight, hard, and I’m not sureIhave it in me to fight again.
Although, considering how often our fights end with sex—or something akin to it—I might be up for that after all.
The mansion is dead quiet as we walk inside. Simone heads straight toward the stairs, and I follow. Her room is at the end of the hall, the door standing open. She walks inside and immediately yanks her hair free of its ponytail, letting the dark waves fall around her shoulders. I lean against the doorframe, watching her, trying to figure out what to say.
“Just leave me alone.” Her voice cuts through the air between us, though she doesn’t turn around. “You got what you wanted. Me back here. Me coming for you. You’re satisfied. Let me go to bed.”
I’m hesitant to leave her. It feels like, if I do, she might no longer be here when I wake up. “There will be a heavy guard in the hall, at the stairs, at every exit and entrance I know of. We’ll find the rest of them tomorrow. You’re not getting out again, Simone.”
“I expected as much.” Her voice sounds tired. “Just leave me alone, Tristan.”
“You’re not going to run again?”
“Why would I?” There’s a hint of defeat in her words, and I feel a twinge of guilt, a reminder that I pushed her to this. That I’ve been handling this all wrong… but I don’t know how else tohandle it. If I soften, I’m worried she’ll take advantage, and this will all fall apart anyway.
“Why did you run in the first place?”
She turns to face me then, and I can see the fire in her dark eyes, the defiance that I've come to know so well. "I thought I was going to get away from you. From all of this. I thought maybe I could find somewhere to go, somewhere to hide until I could figure out what to do next."
"And instead, you ran straight into Sal Envio's arms."
The color drains from her face at the mention of his name. "That wasn't... I didn't know he was following me."
"Of course you didn't. Because you don't know this world the way you think you do. You were raised in it, but you’ve been sheltered from it. You don't understand the dangers, the threats that are out there waiting for someone like you." I push off from the doorframe, taking a step into the room. "You could have been killed tonight, Simone. Or worse."
"Worse?" She laughs, but there's no humor in it. "What could be worse than being trapped in a marriage I never wanted, with a man who sees me as nothing more than a means to an end?"
The words hit me like a physical blow, and I have to fight the urge to cross the room and show her exactly how wrong she is. She’s more than that. She drives me insane. She’s pushing me into an obsession I’ve never felt before, for anyone. I don’t know if I want to strangle her or fuck her half the time, but I know I want my hands on her, one way or another.
Instead, I force myself to stay where I am, to keep my voice level. "Is that really what you think? That you're nothing more than a means to an end to me?"
She doesn't answer, but I can see the uncertainty in her eyes, the way she's trying to hold onto her anger even as it wavers. She felt what there was between us in the car, the passion whenI fucked her. What’s between us isn’t cold and businesslike, no matter what it is.
"Get some sleep," I say finally. "We'll talk in the morning."
I go to my room—the room thatshouldbeours—pacing the length of it like a caged animal. The events of the night keep replaying in my mind, but it's not the firefight or the chase that has me on edge. It's the way Simone felt under me, the way she came for me, the way her body answered mine even as she tried to fight it. She lost control. Something undid her, and I’m desperate to know what it is.
What the key is to unraveling my wife’s desire. To making her give in to me without breaking her.
No matter what my father says, I don’t want her shattered. I want her wholly mine.
I pour myself three fingers of whiskey and down it in one swallow, then pour another. The alcohol burns, but it doesn't do anything to quiet the chaos in my head.
What the hell is happening to me?
I’ve never gotten attached to women. I’ve fucked so many before my marriage that I lost count, but I always had rules: always use a condom, never sleep with the same woman too many times or too often, never make any promises, and never stay the night. I’ve had every kind of sex in every possible way, felt pleasure a thousand times over, but I’ve never feltthis. This driving, incessant need to claim and possess and consume, to make this woman give me everything she has to give.
