The afternoon consists of my Lit and History of Art classes. They’re not as fun as my morning classes, but they fly by, and before I know it I’m back in the car heading home. My classes are Tuesdays and Thursdays with Theatre practice on Fridays. That gives me the other days to get my homework done.
As I’m walking toward the parking lot with Michael and Tadd flanking me, my brother steps into view from out of nowhere.
“Phoenix!” I’m about to throw my arms around him for a hug when Michael yanks me back. “Hey,” I shriek at the same time my brother hisses, “Get your hands off her.”
“Back up,” Tadd commands.
Phoenix reaches behind him, for what I assume is his gun, and before he can even pull it out, Tadd has him on the ground with his hands locked behind his back.
“Stop, please,” I whisper, hating the attention we’re drawing from the students walking by. “I know him. He’s okay.”
Tadd stands, bringing Phoenix up with him. “He’s not on the approved list, ma’am.”
“I’m her fucking brother, asshole. I don’t need to be on any fucking list.”
Tadd steps toward him. “You do if you want to go anywhere near her.”
In fear he’ll take out my brother, I move forward, only Michael is still holding me back. “Okay, okay,” I say in a placating tone. “I’ll speak to Kostas tonight and get you on the approved list.” I silently beg Phoenix not to argue. The last thing I need is to give Kostas a reason to kill my brother. Phoenix looks like he wants to say something, but when I shake my head, he closes his mouth.
“I’ll see you soon,” I tell him.
“All right.” He nods once and then takes off in the opposite direction than we’re heading.
By the time we’re pulling through the entrance to the hotel, my blood is boiling. Damn Kostas and his need to control everything and everyone. Not sure when he’ll be home, and not wanting to be here when he arrives, I opt to go for a swim in the pool to cool off. I can bring my homework with me and work on it by the pool. But when I step through the door, and am hit with a cold glare from Kostas, I know I’m not going anywhere. Setting my purse and books on the table, I shoot him what I hope is an equally pissed off expression.
“Welcome home, wife,” Kostas greets as I stalk past him to the bedroom to change. Deciding a shower is in order, I strip down and go straight to the bathroom. I can feel Kostas behind me, but I ignore him, focusing on the temperature of the water. Once it’s hot enough, I step in, only to find Kostas is also naked and following me in.
Doing my best to ignore him, I grab the body wash and squeeze some onto a loofah. But like the tyrant my husband is, he won’t be ignored. Gripping the curve of my hip, he turns me around to face him, backing me against the shower wall. The loofah falls to the ground as he pins my hands above my head with one of his own. “I asked how your day was, wife,” he seethes.
When I still refuse to answer, he leans in and bites down on my bottom lip. I screech out in pain, trying to push him away, but he’s too strong, and I’m at his mercy. I’m always at his mercy.
“Want me to tell you how my day was?” he asks, clearly as a rhetorical question, since he doesn’t wait for an answer before he continues. “It started with my wife screaming at me over the phone while I was standing in an important business meeting.” My eyes go wide. Shit, I didn’t think about why he was being so short over the phone. “Apparently it’s more important for her to fit in than to be safe.” His icy-hot gaze bores into mine. “Not even an hour away from here and you’re already forgetting whose wife you are.” His grip tightens on my wrists, and with his other hand, he lifts me up by my ass. My legs wrap around his torso, and then he roughly drives into me.
Everything inside me clenches.
“You.” Thrust. “Are.” Another thrust. “My goddamned wife.”
My eyes remain locked with Kostas’s as he fucks me hard and deep, reminding me who I am. Who I belong to. And by the time we’re both coming, I’m screaming out the name of the man who owns every single part of me.
“Add Phoenix to the approved list,” I tell Kostas after the waiter sets down our plates of food.
Kostas’s jaw clenches. “You’re going to want to rethink how you speak to your husband, anóito korítsi.” Foolish girl. “Otherwise, I’m going to be forced to remind you again who you belong to, but you aren’t going to be screaming my name in pleasure this time.”
Not wanting to argue with him, I take a calming breath and try again, this time nicer. “Can you please add my brother to the list of approved people who can speak to me?”
Kostas glares my way but nods. “It’s already been done.”
“Thank you.”
“How was your first day of school?”
“It was good. The first performance in my theatre class is Macbeth. Guess which part I’m trying out for.” I bat my lashes playfully, and Kostas chuckles.
“Let me guess, Lady Macbeth,” he answers dryly.
“Yep. I think I’ll make a great Lady Macbeth. She’s strong and ambitious. Determined.”
Kostas barks out a laugh. “She’s cunning and ruthless and manipulative. She repeatedly questions her husband’s manhood until she pushes him to the edge, forcing him to commit murder. Then she can’t handle it and takes her own life.” Kostas puts his fork down and stares at me with a mixture of humor and seriousness. “You know what would’ve saved her life? If she had let her husband handle shit.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re such a caveman.”
“Doesn’t Lady Macbeth have to kiss Macbeth in that play?” Kostas asks thoughtfully.
“I don’t know.” I shrug. “If she does, it’s only for pretend. It’s a stage kiss. It’s not real.”
Kostas lets out a growl. “I’ll be damned if my wife is kissing another man, staged or not.”
“Caveman,” I repeat.
“Careful, Lady Macbeth. You will hate the outcome if you drive your husband to the edge and he’s forced to commit murder.” Kostas’s lips curve into a wicked grin as fear shoots through my veins like some deadly hit of a drug I want no part of.
Any other man and I would take his threat as a joke, but with Kostas, I have a feeling he’s being dead serious.
Kostas
There are two things that rile my wife up. One, telling her no. The other, her motherfucking raging hormonal period time. This morning, the stage is set for a nuclear meltdown. For once, I’m eager to send her ass to school so I can get a moment of fucking peace.
“Say it again,” she seethes, her face turning red.
I scrub my palm down my face in frustration. “You’re just mad because you’re on your period.” She had Tadd and Michael run her by the drugstore after school yesterday, so I know this is half of her problem.
“What did you say?” Her voice is deceptively calm, but I can see the figurative claws coming out.
“I’m saying it’s why you’re being irrational.”
She picks up a vase and heaves it at me. I don’t even have to duck out of the way because she throws like shit. My wife’s favorite things to throw are vases, so I keep having them replenished in our home. It crashes behind me and her chest rises up and down with fury.