I spread my hands over his chest, ignoring the stuttered breath that escaped him.
“If you say so. She’s free to be your mistress instead.”
“Is that what you think I want?” His chest crushed against mine as his breathing roughened.
“I know it.” I jutted my chin up, daring him to refute what I’d overheard him speak to Paolo. But Romeo was done with words. He slammed his lips on mine instead. Our third ever kiss was more frantic than the chaste brush at the altar and the disastrous night that followed. All I’d tasted then was whiskey, and now it was desperation. His arms snaked around me, hauling me to his body. His lips vibrated as he moaned. My head swam, and I opened my mouth to argue, but he plunged his tongue in instead. Its length ran against mine, fingers running over my body and touching every part of me. He was consuming me, too shocked to react. My thoughts raced, my pulse a hot drumbeat echoing through every cell. He gathered up the material of my dress, gaining access to my behind and squeezing. That was enough. My teeth sank into his lip, and I took advantage of his shock to push him away. I fixed my dress with shaking hands.
“Does that seem as though I want anyone except for my wife?” he taunted, his lower lip ruby red. The whites of his eyes almost glowed as he advanced toward me, but I was done playing his games.
“You think you can kiss me into submission? That I’ll melt if you toss me a charming smile?” I bit out.
My back collapsed against the wall, knees still jelly from his invading touch. There had been a time when I imagined himrendering me speechless. But chasing out the shock was the fire of rage licking at my insides. I gripped it until I burned, hoping it would blast away the lingering feel of his tongue against mine. I shuddered in an uneasy breath.
“That would be preferable,” he joked with a wry smile. My hands curled into fists. I wondered how he would react if I wrenched the pretty landscape off the wall and smashed it over his head.
“I’m not that naïve,” I snapped. Romeo wiped his lip with his thumb, staring at the blood with fixed interest. “Not anymore.”
“I’m beginning to realize,” he whispered.
“If you have a mistress, I expect you to be discreet,” my voice trembled, and I walked away from him. Determined to escape this room and give my heart a chance to stop pounding. I didn’t have much, but I had my pride.
“Anita.” Romeo raced after me, his long strides cutting me off. “Dammit, wife, stop right now.” He scooted around to block my exit. I let my lip curl up like an animal. I was close to snapping, and if he didn’t let me leave, there would be no salvaging the sweetheart image he believed was me.
“Get out of my way.” I was a shaking mess, my body hot and cold, tingling with the aftereffects of his unwanted touch. I latched onto my anger, the only thing lending me strength. His high cheeks were dark with color, plump lower lip stained with blood. Despite myself, I was attracted to the way it looked on him. I only wished there was more of it, perhaps from a major artery. I could tear it out with my teeth. Why hadn’t I?
“You owe me a wedding night,” he said.
The last thing I ever thought he would say. He thumbed his lower lip, a thoughtful, careful look on his face. His breathing became controlled, and he pulled his shoulders back. We both tucked our true selves behind our masks.
“W-what?” I swallowed the hard lump in my throat. Our wedding night had been humiliating. I didn’t want another one. He reached out and ran his knuckles down my cheek. I jerked my head with a snarl. He awoke an animal in me, the desire to maul.
“Tomorrow night, you’ll dress in the negligee you wore, and we will have a do-over,” he said softly. The blood had congealed on his lip, and it made him brutish. It spoke to the uncontrollable parts of me.
“You owemea wedding night, it was you who—” I argued, but he pressed a finger to my lip, stepping close to me again.
“Tomorrow, I’ll rectify my errors. I’m giving in, Anita. You’ll have to bear the burden of your husband in all his facets.”
I stopped myself from scoffing at his melodramatics. He wanted me trussed up like a doll so he could make use of my body. I’d given him that chance already, and he’d ruined my tender hope.
I didn’t simper.
I didn’t coo.
There was no man I would fall over myself for, but he had made me do all those things. I’d lost myself in the low timbre of his husky voice, his sharp jaw and dark beauty. It was a mortification I couldn’t shake. I wouldn’t be humiliated again. If he wanted a wedding night, I’d give him one. But this time it would be him going to sleep alone. Romeo would be the one shattered and made small. I stepped into him, gently swiping his hand away.
“So be it, husband,” I purred, pressing my lips to his cheek.
He could try to seduce me with his touch, but there was one thing he didn’t account for. I wasn’t who he thought I was, and The Gardener had resources he wouldn’t ever see coming.
4
I needed to find a better place for clandestine meetings. My gaze drifted to the tiny tear in the wallpaper behind Bruno’s head. I’d noticed it when I’d been berating Paolo. Latched on to it during the dinner party. Anita had full rein to re-decorate the house as she wanted, but she’d made no plans yet. A small fear clenched deep inside me. I wanted her elbow-deep in paint colors, furniture choices, and wallpaper designs. It kept her close, tied her to me. Not in the way I wanted, but I couldn’t have that.
“Are you listening to me, or is the racket outside distracting?” Bruno scowled, his knee bouncing up and down. As if to exacerbate his displeasure, there was a shout of laughter that carried through the ruffled curtains. It was the middle of the day, and I would have preferred to let the sun stream in, but Bruno wouldn’t come without assurances of privacy and discretion.
“Apologies. I think my wife has hired more garden staff. It’s not a honeymoon unless your wife rips apart your house and makes it her own.” My joke only made Bruno’s expression sour.
“You know who didn’t get a honeymoon? Diane. From the beginning, he treated her like nothing. Lanton offered to send her away on a two-week vacation, a solitary one. He wasn’t handing her the keys to his house and saying, ‘have at it.’ Maybe you can show him what your wife comes up with when you have him over again.”
