Page 15 of Say I Do

I whipped in his direction. “Shut. Up. Before I do it again.”

The look in his eyes was a challenge, as if he wanted me to do it again.Why do I want to take him up on it?I turned back to Tony.

“What are you doing here?”

“Your, uh, husband’s things have been delivered by his family. Clothes, suitcases, stuff like that. We already went through them—”

“What?” Harlow interjected.

“—and confiscated the items that were dangerous. All weapons have been locked up in the safe.”

“Good man,” I said. A grin tugged at the corner of my mouth as Harlow stood there with his jaw on the ground. “Have it all brought up. Harlow will be in the guest room.”

“All right, coming up.” He waved a hand in front of his face. “Maybe crack a window? It smells like burnt ass in here.”

I didn’t even want to know what that meant. Burnt ass? I wondered if he’d been hanging around Gin again. I glanced up in time to catch Harlow as he lunged for me.

He was fast, but he triggered my rage like it was nothing. I slammed him against the counter until he grunted. When I turned him around, he let out a heavy breath as I slammed his chest against the marble top.

“If you’re going to attack me, be better at it.”

“Give me my shit,” Harlow snapped. “Or you’re going to see how much better at killing you I can be.”

“Do you want to get locked up again? I can try harder next time,” I said. “Maybe a straight jacket would work better on a nut job like you.”

Harlow threw his head back. It crashed against my face. Blood rolled down my skin and dripped to the floor below. I wiped my nose and stared after Harlow as he stormed away from me.

I grinned. My tongue darted out as I lapped up an errant drop of blood. No words needed to be exchanged between us for me to know the truth.

I had won round one.

Something told me Harlow would try to hit back harder during round two.

Ding ding, motherfucker.

I couldn’t possibly continuewith this.

“Fuck Benito Vitale,” I said with every ounce of my being. Not that anyone gave a fuck what I thought, let alone felt.

I stared at all of the suitcases containing my stuff. My life was reduced to five bags and a single box. How the fuck was that even possible? I opened the first one and swore in Japanese. Everything was a mess; they hadn’t bothered to fold anything back the way it was.

A heavy sigh dripped from my lips. I collected my straight black hair and tied it back. Once the messy bun was situated at the top of my head, I grabbed each suitcase and dragged it to Benito’s room.

He’d left over thirty minutes ago. Of course, he hadn’t told me shit as he exited, leaving me in this jail cell alone.

I refused to be the only one suffering. I dragged the last bag into the huge walk-in closet. Benito’s clothes took up every inch. He knew how to dress, which was apparent from what I saw of him prior to our marriage. However, I hadn’t expected his closet to be so expansive.

I contemplated my half, put together a plan, and groaned at the manual labor. I stripped down to just my pants, knowing I had my work cut out for me. I didn’t think as I grabbed the first set of designer suits to move them over to the other side. I sucked in a breath and nearly dropped all his clothes. His cologne filled the air. It had been distracting before, but up close, I had the debauched idea to jerk off over his clothes.

Fuck. I’m so fucked, or I want to be fucked. Either was fine with me.

I shook my head and continued rearranging the closet. I had no idea when Benito would be back. I had to move fast. Time ticked by as I worked. By the time I had Benito’s shit contained to one side, I was covered in a light sheen of sweat.

One glance at my suitcases and I swore every which way in Japanese. Didn’t he have staff or something? Besides the guard-looking guy, not one person had stepped foot in Benito’s place. He couldn’t be that big of a paranoid freak, right?

I finished emptying every single one of the suitcases. My side of the closet was empty as hell compared to Benito’s. For some reason, it got under my skin. The only reasonable thing to do was go shopping and spend some of the money I’d acquired from joining this marriage. My sister fucked up; if she’d married Benito instead of me, she’d have an insane spending allowance. I’d gotten a look at the contract. Of course, my father hadn’t bothered to change it, although he’d ended up switching children.

I slipped my shirt back on and made my way to the entrance. I opened the door. The same guy who’d come in earlier that morning stood right outside. His eyes cut to me. He backed up just slightly, his hand lifted causally, and a too-tight smile took over his face.

---