My pace slows even more when Roxanne garbles out, “At night?” When my brow props high into my hairline, she nods. “Night. Right.”
“I’ll meet you in the foyer at six forty-five sharp.”
“Okay.” Her eyes flicker like she’s mentally jotting down everything I’m telling her. “Will we be doing dress shopping before or after noon? I want to know whether I should hit the carbs at lunch or breakfast.”
She’s joking. However, I’m not amused.
Now is not the time for jokes.
“Sorry,” she apologizes for the umpteenth time tonight. “I blubber when I’m nervous.”
I want to say she’s nervous because we’re alone in a very big house, but alas, that would be a lie. For some absurd reason, she isn’t afraid of me. She knows I could end her life in an instant, and that she’s under my control until my daughter is returned, but fear isn’t the sole emotion that passes through her eyes when she spots my inconspicuous glances. Desire is there as well.
She fought for her life not because she believes it’s worth fighting for, but because of what she hopes it could be.
That’s the exact reason I’ve fought so hard for Fien. Her video earlier tonight showed she’s a happy, well-adjusted toddler, but that doesn’t mean her life couldn’t be better. I can give her more than she’s ever had because only I can give her a father’s love.
With my mood teetering toward the negative, I push down on the handle of the master suite’s door with more aggression than needed. Roxanne’s deep exhale fans my nape like Justine’s did when I opened the door of my room in my family’s compound, except her exhale is more in exhilaration than fret.
A similar-size four-poster bed sits in the middle of the back wall, a private seating area/reading nook is on its left, and an office/library is on its right. With my room used more for business adventures than sexual conquests, my desk looks more original to the space than my rarely used mattress. I’m one of those people who catches sleep on the fly. Little power naps here and there keep me going well into the wee hours of the morning where I usually crash on the couch or in my office chair.
I’m about to give Roxanne the standard old you-can-wear-one-of-my-shirts routine, but the lowering of my eyes to the hideous sleeping ensemble she’s clutching for dear life stops me. At first, I was shocked she’d pack something so warm, our nighttime temperatures never get close to freezing, but when I sent Clover and Rocco home, it made sense. We’re not in winter, but the iciness of untouched waters is always a little cool.
Roxanne’s emotions don’t know which way to swing when I say, “While you shower and change, I’ll conduct my meeting with Alice before grabbing you something to eat.” She’s excited about washing up and being fed, but her eagerness waivered during the middle portion of my sentence.
Good. That’s exactly how my competitors should see her. Wide-eyed about everything I do, terrified she could lose me at any moment, and seemingly under my thumb—the perfect Cartel wife combination.
“In you go,” I say with a smirk, praying a smile will hide the yearning roaring through my veins. I’m not thickening below the belt because she appears to have the makings of a mafia kingpin’s wife, it’s from the way her pupils widen when she spotted Alice standing at the top of the stairs waiting for me. She’s being hit with the same crass feelings that swamped me when the dweeb she called her ‘boyfriend’ located her clit. I didn’t want him touching her, but for the life of me, I couldn’t stop him. It was like seeing a family sedan stuck on the tracks as a train barrels toward them. I shouldn’t have watched, but I did, and I devoured every second of it.
As I do again now.
The tint Roxanne’s eyes get when she’s jealous is even more intoxicating than when she comes. It makes them a murkier green like they’re too tainted for me to corrupt.
The thought alone has me the hardest I’ve ever been. If Alice wasn’t at the end of the hall staring at me as Roxanne is staring at her, I may not have been able to set aside a craving so strong it has me wanting to fall to my knees.
Mercifully, Alice doesn’t just have impeccable timing, she’s a sure-fire knockout. Big brown eyes, glossy blonde hair, and an hourglass figure that could turn over revenue like seconds on a clock if she had the gall to sell herself to more than one client a night. She’s a perfect ten out of ten, and I’m not the only one noticing.
Roxanne could only be greener with envy if she were forced to watch us fuck.
“Don’t make me ask again, Roxanne. I do not like repeating myself.” There’s an urge in my voice I can’t contain. It’s thick and hot and as potent as the blood surging to my cock. It has me listening to the head between my legs instead of the one on my shoulders.
With the grunt of a man with holes in his heart, I shove Roxanne into my room. When she falls onto her knees, the situation goes from bad to worse. She’s in the perfect position to take my dick between her lips, to suck me down as I’ve dreamed about her doing more times than I should have the past twelve months.
I could order her to as threatened earlier tonight or remind her of the pledge she made to be on both my arm and in my bed, but I won’t. She won’t have the look needed to make my ruse authentic if I can’t control myself around her within an hour of us being left alone.
Furthermore, she got one up on me when she noticed Smith had connected the electricity to her apartment. I can’t let her get more leverage because despite what my cock thinks, she’s enemy number one, and it will take more than a roll in the hay to change that.
Chapter Nineteen
Roxanne
I curse at the soap as if it’s my stupid lust-fired brain when it slips from my grip for the second time the past five minutes. I’m scrubbing my skin like one of the many dangerous thoughts that flared through Dimitri’s eyes when he shoved me into my room occurred instead of him locking me in the palace-like setting before he moseyed to his hookup for the night.
Well, I’m assuming it’s a one-night-only fling. They had a familiarity with each other like they know each other’s kinks. Alice didn’t bat an eyelid when Dimitri shoved me into my room, nor did she flinch when he cockily strolled her way.
How do I know her response, you ask? I peered through the keyhole of my bedroom door like a freak who can’t get her rocks off without watching another woman get hers.
There’s nothing wrong with voyeurism until you realize you don’t want to be the watcher, you prefer being watched.
When that tedious bit of information curdled my stomach, I gathered myself up from the floor and drudged to the bathroom. My room is so opulent, it should have taken care of the massive knot in my stomach straight away. Regretfully, no amount of glamour can hide ugly truths. Estelle has hot water, electricity, and a bed to sleep in for the next God knows how long, but I have no way of contacting Estelle to tell her I’m safe, no way to check if she made it home from her double shift okay, and no way to tell her I miss her even though we’ve only been apart for hours.
The very first thing Dimitri confiscated when he let his goons off for the night was my phone. It occurred a mere second after he told Smith to disconnect all the home servers and landlines. He promised I would have a way of contacting Estelle during my stay, but I won’t be given the privilege until I’ve proven myself worthy.