Page 38 of Possession

I pull my lip between my teeth and shake my head.

“I expect you to cooperate.”

I exhale and throw his words back at him. “Yes. I’m so into you, I can’t see straight. You’re the love of my life. You know, all the normal fairytale stuff that happens when your father sells you off to a cartel leader’s son but you end up married to his right-hand man. I only have eyes for you, my hot, broody husband.”

One perfect, thick brow hikes a notch, and I lose his touch. He stands, leering over me. My view does not suck as I tip my head back to look up his body. My chin is claimed between his thumb and index finger, and his tone is gruffer than normal. “The stage is set, then. We both know what to expect.”

“A marriage made in hell,” I add.

“Indeed,” he agrees.

He hasn’t let go of my chin, and we’re locked in this passive-aggressive conversation laced with tension.

If I’m honest—which I will not be with anyone but myself—sexual tension.

“How am I supposed to act head over heels in love with you when I know nothing about you?”

“It’s calledimprov.”

“I’m not a thespian,” I argue.

My chin gets a little pinch, but where I feel it most is farther south when he follows it up with a thumb swipe across my bottom lip. “For your sake, you’d better be a quick study.”

And with that, our dreaded conversation about not consummating our marriage is over.

“Wait,” I call as he heads to our bathroom. “Where are you going? And what am I supposed to do now?”

He’s got one foot inside the bathroom doors when he turns back to me with a tense expression. “I’m hitting the gym. Do what you want, but don’t try to leave the house. It’s not like you could if you tried.”

I twist in my chair to fully face him. “But I don’t have a phone or a computer. What am I supposed to do all day, every day?”

“Entertain yourself, but we have a dinner meeting tonight. You need to be by my side. Tomorrow is Damian’s funeral. Prepare to be solemn as fuck.”

And with that, he slams the bathroom door.

I turn back in my chair and stare at my cold omelet.

A life of celibacy was not what I expected. I should be happy.

It’s a relief even if an entire lifetime with no sex is a little depressing to think about. But only if the sex is my choice. So many contingencies I never thought would be in play.

I relax back into my chair and pick up my coffee.

There’s one thing I know for certain.

Pretending to be in love with Boz Torres is going to be much easier than acting like I’m not chipper as fuck about Damian being dropped into a grave six feet under.

That is something to celebrate.

10

BIKINI POLICE

Brax

Ihit the weights and treadmill for over an hour. Damian either had good intentions or pretended to work out when he designed that wing of his house. The place is a small version of the most elite gym and outfitted with the top-of-the-line machines and weights.

Once I moved in, I was the only one to use it. Damian told me to help myself, but that’s when I was recovering from a bullet wound.

---