Jesus fucking Christ.
I’m hard already.
I clear my throat, unable to rip my eyes away from my smoking hot wife, and I see her smirk. See? That fire, that playfulness, it’s there, so why is it so hard to navigate anything else between us?
“I’ll wait downstairs,” I tell her before I make myself move, and I swear I hear the faint sound of her chuckling as I do. I can’t help but frown as I make my way down the stairs.
Nate Knowles. Big bad wolf. Crime Lord. Shows mercy to no one… except one woman. One woman who he made sure was his. The only woman to have gotten this close to him. And he no longer has any idea how to play this. Fuck my life.
I had a clear-cut plan when I went after Kat. Make her mine, break her, have her need me. Simple. And even though I could see that she would challenge me, I never expected to start to fall for her so fast and so hard. Because that is what is happening here. Cold-hearted killer, falling for a woman who continues to hate him.
I run my hands through my hair, messing it up a little, but I give no fucks. I couldn’t care less what people think of me, and as long as they fear me and what I am, then all is golden, so my hairstyle is the least of my fucking worries.
There is only one person whose thoughts I care about, and she’s just walked in the room and is standing right in front of me, looking like a goddamn goddess. And then she smiles at me. A gorgeous, no holds barred smile. One I haven’t seen before, and fuck… something inside of me stirs… what is this feeling?
“We going?” she says, her eyes twinkling, and the fact that I haven’t seen her this––dare I say––happy before has me all kinds of fucked-up inside.
“Sure,” I manage to choke out as I mentally give myself a bloody pep talk to stop acting like a teenage boy with a hard-on. I move towards her, and the smile stays on her face, so I take my chances and hold my hand out to her.
She looks, she waits, and if I were a chick, my heart would be skipping a goddamn beat right about now. But then she puts her hand in mine, her fingers linking through mine, and then she looks up at me and there is an innocence about her in this moment. One where I know that I don’t want to break the woman before me until she needs me so desperately that she can’t be without me. I don’t want to break her to get to that point. I want her to want that for herself. I want her to let me in, give me everything, and in return, I will give her the same. Because she has me in her grip. I’m hers whether she realises it or not. And she is mine.
I close my hand around hers and quietly tell her, “You look amazing.” Amazing? Jesus Christ, Nate, could have gone with a better word than that, for fuck’s sake.
“Thank you,” she says as I see a blush cover her cheeks. A blush. A goddamn blush. “You don’t look too bad yourself.” And the compliment almost has my jaw opening in shock––almost. I have had years of schooling my reactions, so I contain the fact that I want to grab her and kiss her, claim her and fuck her into oblivion, as well as containing my shock at her words, obviously.
I lead her from the house and out to the car, opening the passenger door for her so she can get in. My men are already in position, watching, waiting, and they know exactly where we are going. I pay them to protect me and to use whatever means necessary to do that, so it enables me to worry a little less––most of the time. Right now though, I am on fucking pins. Someone we are yet to locate is tailing my wife, so I am on high alert. I didn’t want her to go to Zoey’s club tonight, but my sister doesn’t let things drop easily, so here we are, driving to the club, and damn if I don’t want to turn the car around and lock Kat inside the walls of my house––where I know she is safe at all times.
Why the hell did I agree to this?
When do I ever do shit that I don’t want to do?
I look to the woman sat beside me, and the answer is obvious.
Because of her.
I’m doing this for her.
We drive in silence, but I keep looking at Kat out of the corner of my eye, and there is a faint smile on her face which makes me feel… happy?
I can’t remember the last time a woman made me feel anything close to happiness, but Kat is it. I know she is, even when she pushes me away and tells me she hates me. It doesn’t matter because I’m never letting her go anyway.
I drive through the town and come to a stop outside Purity––Zoey’s nightclub. The name is so far from what we are that it’s laughable.
There is a line of people, waiting to gain entry, but of course, we won’t be queueing tonight. I turn the engine off and look to Kat. “You still want to go in?” I ask her, praying that she says no, but I already know that she won’t.
“Yeah,” she says, her eyes sparkling, a smile on her face and an energy coming from her that I’ve never felt before.
I blow out a breath and run my hand through my hair before I look at her one last time and then get out of the car, walking around to her side and opening her door and holding my hand out to her. She places her hand in mine and I help her out, stepping close to her when I shut the door. I lower my lips to her ear and breath in her scent as I say, “Don’t forget who you belong to tonight.” I lick my tongue along the shell of her ear, and I feel her shiver––hopefully with fucking delight.
I don’t let her say anything as I take her hand and move us around the car and to the steps that lead to the front doors of the club. I chuck my keys to one of my guys––because this whole place is roaming with men that work for me––so he can go and park it whilst we head inside.
When we do, I hear a few grumbles from the people in the line because Kat and I just walk right past them. But I pause and turn to look at them, a mean as fuck look on my face, and they quickly look like they just shit themselves. I smirk and carry on, walking through the entrance which is large with a seating area to the left and a booth to the right where you pay on entry. We skip that part and head on past the cloak room where people can drop their coats and whatever else they don’t want to carry around with them. The lighting in here is dim but bright enough to see what you’re doing, the music from the club pumping in the background, the bass vibrating through the floor.
I reach the doors of the main room, the lights flashing through the frosted glass panel before the music hits us full force as I open one of the doors. I walk us through, Kat behind me––still holding my hand.
I see several pairs of eyes turning our way as we move through the people milling around the bar area. Most of them will know who I am, and only the stupid ones will be unaware that I am the motherfucking master, but they soon learn who they are dealing with if they try to get all cocky and shit.
We reach the bar and immediately someone is there, waiting and ready to serve us a drink. They’ve been taught well.
