Page 70 of Possession

I don’t waste any time. “All you have to do is say the word, baby. Before you even blink, it’ll be a done deal. They’ll never hurt you again.”

“Landyn,” Nellie cries out, begging her not to do to them what they did to her.

“Chica,” I coax. “You need to choose. Them or me.”

Them or me.It echoes in my head like a gong.

Fuck, if she chooses me, this web will be so tangled, I may never find my way out of it unscathed. Still, I find myself praying she chooses me.

Her sweet body sinks deeper into mine. Even with her mother standing in the same room, I feel my cock swell. I haven’t had her in my arms like this since her asshole father upset her at Damian’s funeral.

Her voice is small, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t power behind it. She makes a choice.

“I choose you.”

Fuck. My hand slides down to the swell of her ass where I hold her to me and let my imagination run free.

I give her a small nod.

“Landyn, no!” her mother exclaims.

I don’t look away from the woman who has no idea what she just signed up for as I say, “Spencer.”

“Sir?” His voice hits me from behind where I know he was lurking. There’s always someone in the shadows.

“Remove my mother-in-law from the house.” I don’t look away from Landyn. The resolve and weight of my words vibrate through me with every demand I make. “Make sure she never returns.”

There’s commotion and drama, but I don’t wait to watch it play out. Spencer might be three decades older than me, but he’s no slouch. He can handle Nellie Alba on his own.

Instead, I claim Landyn’s hand and head to the stairs.

“Boz, wait,” Landyn calls, but I keep going. The need to be alone with her is overwhelming. I’m so fucking sick of being the star of the show in this house.

As Nellie is dragged out the front door like yesterday’s trash, I don’t give a second thought to the Albas. Little do they know their days of freedom are limited to the amount of time I need to tie the Jackals to the Marinos, right before I make sure my personal business is taken care of with a finality that does not include prison.

More like six feet under.

Which means I just put myself on another clock.

The make-my-fake-wife-not-hate-me clock.

We’re almost to our bedroom when Landyn won’t move another step. “Boz, what are you doing?”

I turn back to her and frown at the woman who’s turning my world on end. I wonder what I’m doing every fucking day. If this is even worth it. The price to pay for revenge is higher than I ever imagined.

But whenever I can tell this woman the truth, I take advantage of the opportunity. “I’m pissed that you’re crying again.”

She sniffs and wipes at the black smudges under her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

I press her to the wall outside of our bedroom door and lower my voice. “No, baby. I’m pissed your parents have made you cry twice this week. The one thing I can promise is that you chose well. You will not take shit from your parents ever again. Not as long as I’m here to stand in the way.”

Her tears have faded but her eyes are still glassy as they stare up at me. “I was already in a bad mood before she got here.”

“Yeah?” I drag my thumb across her bottom lip before sliding my hand down to circle her neck. I don’t have to hold tight to feel her pulse race beneath my touch. Her eyes flare, but other than that, she doesn’t flinch at my hold. “I feel like I’ve been in a bad mood for a lifetime.”

Her tits rise and fall where my forearm rests. I press my hips into her stomach, needing to feel her.

Needing her to feel what she does to me.

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