Page 12 of His Wife

“Hot and cold,” he scoffs.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

“Noticed what?”

“That you’re distracted lately. You’re here, but you’re not. It’s hard not to get mindfucked by everything.”

The sheet swooshes as he tears out of bed, naked with his cock hard and bobbing as he steps up to me, claiming my cheeks between his palms. “You should work on not getting so easily mindfucked, stray. I need you at the top of your game whenever I choose to fuck you, wherever I choose to fuck you.”

“See. A booty call,” I huff.

“Not a booty call. It’s just the way it is. We’re unraveling, remember?” He kisses me once more, leaning his strength into it. “I’m going to call Vicky and let her know you’ll be needing a dress for tonight.” He leans back, gaze dragging up and down my body. “Something silver. Shiny.”

Resting a hand on my waist, I pop my hip to the side and raise an eyebrow at him. “Are you in charge of what I wear now?”

Lacing his fingers around the back of my neck, he pulls me in and presses his lips on my forehead. “Don’t kid yourself, baby girl. I’m in charge of everything when it comes to you.”

* * *

ALEXIUS

Mira comes sprinting down the stairs, and I can already see us picking her bones off the foyer floor from falling over those heels she’s wearing. “They’re here.”

“Who?” Nicoli frowns.

“Your mom and dad. They’re back from their trip.”

“Isn’t that sort of the idea? You know, Dad convincing her to pack up all his medical equipment, a private nurse, and for them to go away for a few days so you can put this extravagant, over-the-top shindig together?” Nicoli glances at me, then back at Mira, who is in the middle of stabbing him with her eyeballs.

“Thank you, Mr. Del Rossa, for pointing that out. Now, if you could please take your sarcasm and shove it up your ass, I’ll take it as a personal favor.”

“Just stating the obvious.”

I smirk at them, knowing their banter is owed to something more profound, stronger, something Nicoli is hellbent on ignoring, acting like it doesn’t exist.

Straightening my tuxedo sleeves, I feel her presence stroke the skin of my neck, igniting a fire in my stomach. But it’s when I turn to face her that she truly takes my breath away. In a silver sequin-encrusted evening dress, my wife is a fucking vision. I can’t take my eyes off her as I move toward the end of the stairs, looking up at her, my heart squeezing with pride. This woman who once wore a coffee-stained waitress uniform with holes in her shoes now shines like a thousand diamonds put together–a kaleidoscope of beauty, elegance, confidence…and mine.

Our gazes meet, her red lips curved in a gorgeous smile, her raven hair pulled to the side and over her right shoulder. As I watch her walk down the stairs, my heart beats to a different rhythm, a cadence created by the sway of her hips. I’m lost. Lost in the universe with no idea where I’m supposed to be—like a dying star endlessly wandering, yet drawn to the sun. To her. My wife.

The sparkling fabric hugs her every curve and flows like water down her hips, the deep V neckline blessing me with a glimpse of the swell of her breasts. She’s beautiful—her brown eyes with rays of honey are a hypnotizing mix of Heaven and Hell, and I don’t care if looking into them means the end of me. All I care about is her. About how I feel when I look at her. Kiss her. Touch her.

I hold out my hand, and she places her palm in mine. “You look—” I struggle to find the right words. “Youare…exquisite.”

“Thank you.” Her cheeks flush with a subtle glow. “You clean up nicely, too.” The sweet smile on her beautiful face is deadly to my self-control, her perfume subtle yet strong enough to envelop my every bone.

I bite my lip and lean into her ear, whispering, “You look stunning in this dress, and I can’t wait to tear it off you.”

“Alexius.” This time her cheeks turn bright pink, and I slip an arm around her waist, but not before I palm her ass, feeling the swell in my palm and am reminded of what she looks like on all fours, pushing her hips out to me.Fuck.

“What is going on?” My mom walks through the front door, placing her handbag on the side table. “Why are there so many cars parked in the driveway?” She eyes all of us. “Why are you all dressed up?”

Mira flits to the front, her coral satin dress flowing around her feet. “There’s no time for questions. We need to get you ready.”

“Ready for what?”

“It’s a surprise.” Mira smiles warmly.

My mother glances from me to Nicoli, then at my father being wheeled into the foyer by his nurse. “Vincenzo, what is going on?”

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