Total pages in book: 180
Estimated words: 168587 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 843(@200wpm)___ 674(@250wpm)___ 562(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 168587 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 843(@200wpm)___ 674(@250wpm)___ 562(@300wpm)
“Congratulations on getting your bride,” a man says in greeting.
I lean back in my chair, getting comfortable. “You sound surprised.”
He gives a dark laugh. “I knew you’d get what you wanted. You’ve been putting in the work for it anyway. Those devoted get rewarded,” the Lord reminds me.
“And you?” I ask. “Are you keeping up your end?”
“Of course.” He snorts, sounding offended.
“And?” I dig deeper, expecting an answer.
“And nothing yet. But we’re getting closer,” he promises.
I roll my eyes. They’ve been telling me this for years, but I’m a patient man, and things like this take time. “Keep me updated,” I say and hang up, not even bothering with a goodbye.
Pulling up the cameras on my computer, I watch her in the apartment upstairs. She’s on her knees in the middle of our closet, going through her clothes that arrived today. My right hand twirls my wedding ring around, feeling the weight of what I’ve done.
This was the only way I knew to save her. But I’m no saint. I’m going to make her hate me more than she already does. Is one devil better than the other? No. Evil is evil. It doesn’t matter who dishes out the punishments. She’ll still see this as her hell.
It’s taken years to get to this point. I’m not stupid. I didn’t expect her to accept her future with me overnight. She’s not like her sister was.
I lie in my bed at the house of Lords next to Whitney. It’s well after two in the morning. She’s naked, hands tied behind her back while she lies on her stomach. I brought her right back here after the vow ceremony at the Cathedral.
I fucked her until she passed out. Literally. I was on a mission to make sure she was so fucking drained she had to stay the night. Not like she was planning on going home anyway.
Getting out of my bed, I walk over to where her wet dress lies on the floor next to her purse. I pick it up, and dump out the contents, finding her cell. Climbing back into bed, I lean my back up against the headboard and press the button on the side to light up the screen to find it locked.
I want to laugh at the fact she thinks that’ll stop me.
In a matter of seconds, I’ve got it unlocked and download the app I want that grants me access to her cell. If I’m going to complete my assignment, I need to know everything she knows.
Sitting back, I watch my wife go through her things and wonder just how much she knows. She and Whitney were close, but I highly doubt she knew everything.
Picking up my cell, I send her a text. When I don’t immediately see her responding, I get up from my chair and storm out of my office.
LAIKYN
An hour later, I’m sitting in the middle of the closet still, sorting out my summer clothes when I hear the bathroom door open. The sound of it hitting the interior wall has me jumping to my feet just as Tyson enters the walk-in closet.
“Where is your phone?” he demands.
“In the nightstand,” I answer honestly.
“Why?”
I bite my bottom lip, unable to answer that question. Telling him that I refuse to use it sounds stupid right now, considering how mad he seems over it.
Storming out of the closet, he returns seconds later, holding it out to me. “When I message you, I expect a response. Immediately. Do you understand?”
“I understand,” I answer softly, reaching out to him and taking it from his hand.
He turns and exits just as quickly as he entered.
Standing, I look around at the mess I’ve made. My clothes are everywhere, but I decide I’ll work on it later. As much as I want to say fuck you to my husband, I also don’t want to piss him off. If he wants to see me so bad, then why didn’t he just tell me what he wanted while he was in here.
Turning the cell on, it pings immediately with a text.
Your husband: My office. Now.
I roll my eyes. Seriously? He could have told me to go to his office in the first place when he was just in here. But I’m not surprised. I saw him do this with my sister once.
“Where is your phone?” Tyson demands as I stand in the hallway, eavesdropping.
“It got wet at dinner.” Whitney explains.
“How does that happen?” he wonders, his voice telling me he doesn’t believe a damn thing she just said.
“I accidentally knocked over my drink right on top of it. I’ve got a new one coming. It should be here tomorrow.”
“Why didn’t you use your sister’s to call me when you got in last night? I’ve been calling you all day.” he asks, letting out a growl.