Page 26 of Inescapable Ties
Emilio had no shame. He would get ready in front of me, stripping all of his clothing off, exposing his tanned skin and toned muscles. I mean, I knew we were married, but it was just a facade. Shouldn’t he be more private about it?
“I need to buy some new shirts,” he said, shimmying into a pair of jeans. “Mine are…dirty.”
And by dirty he meant they were covered in blood. He had tried to hide them from me, but I had found multiple ruined shirts shoved in the trash can that was in the laundry room.
“Uh huh. Can I come?” I asked.
I was going stir crazy. The only things I did were with the Dino’s and sometimes my sister (and even then, there was a Dino with us).
“Sure,” he said. “We leave in fifteen minutes.”
“Fifteen minutes?!”
I was still in my cozy flannel pajamas, with no hint of makeup on my face. My hair, tangled and tousled from sleep, cascaded down my shoulders in wild waves. The morning sunlight streaming through the windows illuminated the messy state of my appearance.
“Better hurry,” he said, giving me an evil grin.
Without wasting a second, I grabbed clothes and darted into the bathroom. The first order of business was getting rid of my disheveled hair. I grabbed a brush and began tugging through the wild waves, wincing as it pulled at knots. After finally smoothing them out, I hastily pulled my hair up into a tight bun.
Next, I hurried over to the sink and washed my face with lukewarm water. Then, I applied some light makeup, just enough to brighten up my face a bit. Foundation, mascara, and a subtle tone of lipstick was all it took. I stared at my reflection, satisfied with the result. After putting on my clothes, I exited the bathroom and found Emilio sitting on the bed.
“That was seventeen minutes,” Emilio said.
“Shouldn’t you be driving away, then?”
He rose and approached me, gently squeezing my cheek between his fingers. “Nah. I’d never leave you behind.”
“You’re going to smear my makeup,” I deadpanned.
“Eh, you don’t need it.”
I swatted his hand away. “Not the point.”
“I don’t want anyone staring too long at my wife.”
The mischievous grin that usually adorned Emilio’s face was nowhere to be found. Instead, his expression was somber and uncharacteristically serious. This time, he wasn’t making a joke.
My heart thumped in my chest at his words. I was unsure whether to feel flattered or threatened. His protective nature, while endearing on one side, could also be dangerously oppressive.
“Let’s go,” I blurted out.
He chuckled, his facade returning to its usual buoyant state. “Sure thing, Jaws.”
We exited the penthouse into the parking garage towards Emilio’s sports car. Emilio held open the door for me, his strong bicep flexing under his black shirt as he did so. I slid into the leather seat, my heart still beating furiously as I tried to process his serious demeanor.
Soon enough, we arrived at our destination: an upscale mall nestled amidst a cluster of high-end boutiques and exclusive restaurants. Its grandeur was obvious even from afar; the front was lined with intricate architectural designs and ostentatious decorations that screamed wealth and sophistication.
We walked in tandem into the first shop; Emilio’s muscular hand held on firmly to mine. I wasn’t sure why he always held my hand or wrapped his arm around my waist. He was under no obligation to.
Inside, it was grander still - marble tiled floors sparkled under ornate chandeliers while soft classical music played.
“Only shirts?” I asked as the two of us strolled into the men’s section.
“Mhm,” he said. “I hate shopping.”
I nodded, acknowledging his sentiment. As a woman, I loved it, and could spend hours shopping both online and in person.
The men’s section was a maze of clothes; rows upon rows of racks filled with neatly pressed shirts, perfectly ironed trousers, and immaculately folded sweaters. The walls were adorned with an assortment of high-quality pictures – models striking confident poses in the very merchandise we were browsing.
