“And you are my husband,” I affirmed, leaning down to kiss him on the lips. Romeo exploded with movement. A desperate groan ripped from his throat. He wrapped his hands around my waist and dragged me onto his lap. I squeaked when I felt him. Hisprivate parts. I flushed at the gaps in my knowledge, but all I knew was his heat, hard against me through his pants, insistent. He was still fully dressed. But I wasn’t, and if he slid my negligee up any higher, he’d see my bare flesh and how it throbbed in response to his questing touch. Romeo leaned his head against my breast and groaned low. His breath puffed against my skin, and goosebumps erupted over my body. I wanted more than what he was offering. I rolled my hips, something intrinsic in me seeking the movement. But instead of encouraging Romeo, it created a frenzy. His hands tightened on my hips, and he ground me down on him before choking and pushing me to the side. He slid off the bed, running his handsthrough his hair. He’d stoked an ache in between my legs I didn’t know how to name. It pulsed with furious need.
“Romeo?” I whispered, staring up at him with wide eyes. He unbuttoned his shirt, and I gulped. The hard planes of his chest were mesmerizing, and I couldn’t help but stare. A dark smattering of chest hair covered the muscles.
“I need to freshen up.” He waved his hands in a placating manner. “You wait here. Ok? I’ll be back in a moment.”
Romeo stood and gazed at me, his eyes scorching a path down my body, memorizing it. I was on fire. But the heat extinguished as Romeo twisted his heel and staggered into the bathroom. I perched on the end of the bed, thrumming with anticipation. His furious mutters carried through the crack in the bathroom door. The cabinets banged as he searched for something. I heard the shower turn on and waited.
And waited.
I didn’t want to breach his privacy, but he’d been in there for a long time, and I was worried something had happened. Eventually, I crept to the door to find the shower empty. Romeo had curled up in the bathtub with a towel draped over him. It didn’t cover him fully, and his long legs butted up at the end of the tub. He hadn’t even undressed.
“Romeo?” I leaned over and shook his shoulder. He only turned deeper into the tub, snorting and snuffling as he did. The sharp scent of spirits and cigars permeated the room. My shoulders slumped and I halted the sharp sting of tears by biting my fist. Quick pain funneled through me. Still, I made a muffled sound, couldn’t contain the hurt that crowded my body. It invaded my cells and took up space in every dark crevice.
This was my wedding night.
My limbs were stiff and robotic as I leaned in to turn the shower off, the warm spray not shaking me from my stupor. My thoughts were fragmented as I looked down at my sleepinghusband. His forehead was smooth of lines. Had he imbibed too much and fallen asleep by accident? Or worse, was there something so horrendous about seeing me dressed as I was that he couldn’t bear the thought of being close to me? I raced back to the bedroom and slipped on the more modest nightwear I usually wore. It had a high collar and hid my body under its shapeless length. I didn’t want Romeo to wake up tomorrow and see me in the scandalous outfit. My head burrowed into the pillow as hot tears burst forth, the frustration and hurt crashing over me as I tried to find sleep. I wrapped my arm around my stomach, trying to offer myself some comfort. We would talk in the morning. I would not have this marriage start the way my parents’ did. Or grow in bitterness and apathy the way theirs had, either.
But my outfit change was unnecessary.
When I woke in the morning, Romeo was gone.
6
My wife was avoiding me.
Ever since I snapped and insisted we redo our wedding night. I’d given her a week to reconcile with the idea. My balls were tight with the need for release, but I refused to find it with my hand. There was something perverse about the thought of pumping Anita full of my hot cum. Desire clenched my lungs. I wanted her underneath me, glistening with sweat. A dreamy look glued to her face, not the one she wore now.
Disdain.
The sheen on her innocent devotion had dulled. She’d seen things she didn’t understand, and it tainted the hero worship she’d laid on me. I wanted to take her hand and thrust it deep in my chest so she knew the monster she was marrying. I’d tried to stay away, to spare her. But she’d invited Lanton Vani into our home. Sat him at our table as if he wasn’t my enemy, because she didn’t know any better. The time for ignorance and innocence had passed. They had to be shredded.
“Where is my wife?” I asked Maria when I walked into the kitchen, growling when I noticed she wasn’t there either. I caught a lingering trail of Anita’s scent, a summer storm. Sweet and fresh. A shade of wildness. She’d muted her spark when we were courting. All soft smiles and demure, fluttering lashes. But her teeth had sunk into my bottom lip like a beast. There was a burning fire hidden beneath her cool mask. I wanted to see how it translated with her naked body entwined in mine.
Maria’s eyes widened, her fingers tight in the dough she was working. Flour covered the bench. I wasn’t used to being in here, let alone seeing it used. I had always been one to come home late; I hadn’t changed that when I married. Anita didn’t know how hard I’d worked to keep her separate, keep her safe.
Everything was different now. There was a thirst in me that only my wife could quench. My plans were ruined. Lanton Vani had been crowing about attending the intimate dinner at my house, and it had damaged my relationship with Bruno. He had distanced himself, and the distrust in his mannerisms hurt me. My only option to rid Greenich Bay of Lanton was The Gardener. It was fortuitous the way to reach him aligned with my renewed obsession.
Anita.
“You’re home early,” Maria said, looking out the window with faint surprise. As if the day slipped by without her notice.
“Mrs. Orazio, where is she?” I asked again, impatient.
“She’s in the greenhouse. That’s where she always is,” Maria laughed, the sound dropping when she saw I didn’t share her humor. Maria was overly familiar, but she’d fed, bathed, and cared for me since I was a child. She deserved my respect. I stalked to the window, seeing where her gaze strayed.
“What greenhouse?” I muttered under my breath. Our house was spacious, with a large, enclosed garden. I didn’t have a greenhouse. But on the fringe of the trees, I could see it; theold decrepit shed that used to exist there was transformed. The shed had been fixed, looking solid and watertight, an extension added, the windows showing the greenery stored within.
“When did this happen?” I asked, the back of my neck burning. My attention had been funneled into dealing with Vani, but I hadn’t noticed an entire greenhouse being erected in my backyard. I recalled the noise I had heard, the blithe way I’d explained it to Bruno. Anita hadn’t touched the house, but she’d erected an entire building.
“Mrs. Orazio said you gave her permission. The noise the men made was unbearable, but they were efficient.”
A vein pulsed on my forehead. Men? Had my sneaky wife been hiding her lover here? It made sense, her sudden scorn for me and coldness. Fury swept my feet forward, and I stalked out of the kitchen and across the grounds. The greenhouse loomed in front of me, but I didn’t pause to appreciate the fine woodwork or gleaming glass. Scenarios were busy rampaging through my mind of Anita—and someone else. I flung the door open, expecting to see my delectable wife laid out like a feast. Instead, I saw trays of seedlings and a myriad of plants exploding out of every available space.
“Paolo, I’m not ready yet,” Anita called from the enclosed shed space. My heart rate slowed. She was in here alone. My heart rate rocketed again.
She was in herealone. Where anyone could burst in and hurt her.
“Not Paolo,” I announced through gritted teeth, standing in the doorway with my hands on my hips. Anita was filling a bag with a concoction of dried leaves. Her hands were encased in soft kid leather gloves. Her sharp intake of breath was the only sign of her surprise. She inched her calico bag into a box, moving it to the side.
