Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 88182 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88182 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
“Prime—“
“Write it the fuck down.”
“Where are you going!?”
“To clear my head!”
To masturbate furiously in my car in the vain hope that I might not want to fuck you so bad it feels like my skin’s on fire.
God damn it. I escape the house like bullets are pinging around my feet. The fresh air helps, but not enough, at least until I’m in my private garage pumping my cock like a maniac and looking at a picture of my wife on her Facebook page smiling and wearing a slightly low-cut top like a god damn fool.
Is this what I’ve become? An obsessed idiot? A pathetic, weak loser, slamming his dick and snarling his wife’s name, all because the idea of her being with someone else was like a knife to his chest?
This isn’t me, damn it. Relationships are poison. I’m fucking death, always have been, always will be. There’s a reason my best friend is a mafia king. Anything else and they’ll be buried in the ground sooner or later.
Now I’m dragging Deanna into this?
I’m going to ruin her. That’s all I can think after I’ve moaned her name and blown a load into a wad of napkins like a horny teenager. By the time this is all done, I’m going to be standing at her funeral, crippled with grief and teetering at the edge, at least if I can’t get myself under control.
Business. Arm’s length. That’s how we’ll play it.
She’ll be enough to make Fontana believe I’m turning my life around. I’ll get closer to the old bastard, and when it’s done—
I’ll cut her free.
Instead of dragging her down to hell with me.
CHAPTER 13
DEANNA
Iscribble my name and step back. The pages don’t change. Black text on white, like always, one section 6.1 glows like iron straight from the forge.
Fidelity: During the term of the marriage, each party shall remain faithful to the other and shall refrain from any romantic or sexual relationship, conduct, or arrangement with any third party. Any breach of this Section by either party shall constitute a material breach of this Agreement.
Shared Residence and Bed: The parties shall maintain a shared marital residence and, where reasonable and practical, shall share the same bed therein. Nothing in this Section shall be construed to require cohabitation in circumstances of travel or other reasonable necessity.
Originally, it mentioned illness along with travel, but Prime made me cross it out. I don’t give a fuck if you have the sniffles. You’re in my bed. He signed before I did and stormed off again, disappearing like he did earlier today.
What the hell did I get myself into?
The agreement is good at least. I’m reasonably sure it would stand up in court, for the most part. I doubt the bed stuff can be enforced, but still. This contract ensures I get what I want from this relationship and protects me in case Prime changes his mind.
Which Prime does, all the time. I’ve seen him switch from one woman to the next in the space of an afternoon. I’ve seen him struggle between picking menus for dinner, for fuck’s sake. And now he’s acting like he’s the most loyal man in the world? Like he’d never, ever cheat on me?
Come on. It’s crazy.
A sick part of me was elated when he got angry earlier. I liked seeing him crumble, at least for a moment. Prime wears his jokes and his careless attitude like armor. He walks through life like nothing fazes him, like there’s only ice in his veins and nothing else, no warmth in his heart, no cares in his soul.
But for a few minutes, I watched all that get swept away by the thought of me sleeping with another man.
Which is patently insane. I haven’t been with anyone in a while. There have been a few failed dating app attempts here or there, but Prime’s a demanding boss and my parents need my care and attention, so I’ve never really had any extra energy for men. I’m not a virgin, but I’m not very experienced either, so it’s not like I’m trolling around on Tinder and getting dicked by the first stud I find.
Still, it was nice that Prime cared. He really cared.
Now reality’s starting to set in. I blow the ink dry on the contract and set it aside to copy later. It’s past ten and Prime’s already upstairs in the shower.
I grab my toiletries bag from my suitcase and retreat to the extra bathroom. I do my routine, teeth, face, skin, and pull on simple pajamas, but decide to go with my most conservative pair. I’m snug under the blankets scrolling my phone when Prime emerges wearing only a towel.
It’s not like I want to stare. I didn’t set myself up for a view. But for the love of all that’s holy—or really, all that’s wrong and sinful—the man is a physical specimen, a perfect example of the male form, and I absolutely despise him for it.