Page 58 of Bloody Vows
"He offered to kill you," she snaps, her eyes locking onto mine with an expression that dares me to tell her that she’s making it up. "He said it would be easy to arrange an accident, make it look like business gone wrong. Frame someone else for the murder so that your father and Konstantin would have a scapegoat. Then, after an appropriate mourning period, I could marry him and he could take over the territory the way it should have been from the beginning."
The words hit me like bullets, each one finding its mark with devastating precision. Not just that another man wants my wife, my position, my life—but that she listened to him. That she sat there and heard him plan my murder without walking away the minute the first word was out of her mouth—hell, that she didn’t warnmeabout it. That she didn’t tell Vitto. She must have been considering it, or she would have come to me or my security about a threat like that.
"And what did you tell him?" I’m not sure I want to know, but I need to. Not least of which because if Enzo thinks he truly has a shot at regaining what I took from him, he’ll mobilize sooner rather than later.
"I told him I needed time to think about it." She looks at me defiantly, as if daring me to punish her, to hurt her, to react to what she’s saying.
The admission hits me harder than it should have, stabbing into my chest like a knife. She didn't say no. She didn't defend me, didn't tell him to go to hell, didn't walk out in righteousindignation. She told himshe'd think about it. Anger boils in my veins—anger at him, anger at her, anger at this entire fucking situation… that I’ve somehow fumbled this all so badly that my wife wants me dead.
"You told him you'd think about murdering your husband." My voice comes out deadly quiet, but inside I'm screaming.
"Yes." She lifts her chin higher, and my hand tightens on the back of her neck. "I told him I'd think about being free of a man who treats me like property, who locks me in rooms when I displease him, who punishes me like he’s my master when I don't submit to his every whim."
I feel a stab of pain at her words. I’ve thought them too, as recently as in my hotel room in Vegas. Because there's truth in them, isn't there? I have been treating her like property, have been using my physical dominance to force her compliance. I’ve been treating her as I’ve been taught to, as my father has encouraged, trying to balance the need to bring her in line with the obsessive desire for her that feels as if it’s eating its way through me like a cancer, like an addiction.
An obsession that, it seems, might lead to my downfall if I don’t get this all under controlnow.
"So that's what this is about? You're so unhappy being my wife that you'd rather see me dead?" I stare down at my gorgeous, defiant wife. “Seriously?”
"I didn't say that." Her eyes spark fire. “You said that.”
"You didn't have to. The fact that you didn't immediately refuse tells me everything I need to know."
“Can you blame me?” she spits out. “After how our marriage started? How you burst into my life and claimed everything that was never supposed to be yours? After the way you’ve treated me?—”
"You considered betraying me." The words come out harsh, accusatory. "Your husband. The man you made vows to."
"Vows that were forced on me!" She's shouting now, all pretense of composure gone, the words yelled into my face from an inch away as she glares at me with unmuted hatred. "I never had a choice, Tristan. Not in the marriage, not in the consummation, not in any of it. You took everything from me—my freedom, my body, mylife—and now you're angry that I wanted it back?"
"I never took anything you didn't give me."
"Didn't I? When exactly did I give you permission to spank me? When did I consent to being locked in my room like a prisoner? When did I agree to be treated like your personal plaything?"
Her words are like acid, burning away every justification I've built up in my mind. Because she's right. I have been taking what I wanted, using my physical strength and position of power to force her compliance.
"You responded to it," I growl. "You want it, Simone. Your body can’t lie.”
"My body is a traitor," she spits. "My body wants things my mind knows are wrong. But that doesn't give you the right to use it against me."
"So what now?" I snap, speaking through my teeth as I stare down at my wife, held in my grip. I press my fingers into her neck, the furious, primal part of me wanting to see her fear, her acquiescence that she’s done wrong. "Are you going to go through with it? Going to let him kill me so you can have your safe, predictable marriage?"
Simone sneers up at me, still unbroken, andgod, something about that makes me want her a thousand times more than I do already. My cock is aching, rock-hard and straining against my zipper, and the heated argument has done nothing but arouse me from the moment I laid my hands on her. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” she hisses, and my body strains with the desireto throw her onto the bed and remind her who she belongs to. To sink into her and fuck her until my cock is fucking imprinted on the inside of her body. To make sure she’s so constantly filled with my cum that any other man who tries to touch her would find her already marked by me.
But I promised her what would happen if she didn’t learn obedience. And more than I want to fuck Simone O’Malley until she screams my name… I want to see my defiant, gorgeous wife on her knees.
Hunger burns in my chest. A hunger to claim her, to remind her who she belongs to. To see her pretty lips stretched around my cock as she learns her place in this world.
I tried to give her space. To go on the business trip and give us both a minute to adjust to our new circumstances, to this marriage. And the first thing she did was run to another man and plot my downfall.
I let go of her neck with a sharp movement of my hand and take a step back, giving her room to see if she’ll comply with my next demand. "Get on your knees."
Simone’s expression hardens. “Fuck you, Tristan.”
“You will. With your mouth.” I gesture to the rug in front of me. “On your knees, Simone. Now."
"Tristan, I?—"
"You want to know what my expectations are? This is one of them. Your mouth on my cock, taking me deep until you’ve pleased your husband." I hold her gaze evenly. “You’ll learn to suck my cock exactly the way I like it,célie. Keep testing me, and I’ll make sure I claim all three of your perfect holes before this day is completely over.”
