Bedding her is the equivalent of bedding a goddess—incomparable.
With the dining room silent, I try again. “While you were getting ready, I made some adjustments to our marriage contract.”
Emerson tries to interrupt me again, so I speak faster, foiling both her attempt and Kolya’s huffed admission that he has caught me in a lie with words.
I’ve done nothing in the past three hours but fight the urge to return to Emerson’s room and finish what she started. She doesn’t know that, though, and I’m too pissed she tried to play me for a fool—again—to act otherwise.
“All skirts or dresses you wearmusthave knee length or longer hems. Choose flats instead of stilettos. If you can’t abide by that term because of budget constraints, go back to term one and scratch out knee length. Chiffon, lace, or any other material incapable of keeping your tits concealed are now banned.”
Emerson’s mouth falls open more the longer I speak.
I get off on her shocked silence.
I’m the first to admit that Emerson ruled the roost during our tumultuous three years. What she said went. No questions asked.
The change-up is addictive, and I get lost in the power trip as I am sure she did when I handed her the keys to the kingdom the first time she raked her teeth over my knob.
“If you flirt with another man in my presence, I will permanently remove him from your life.”
I flick my eyes to Kolya before slowly shifting them to the server, who looks suddenly nervous.
“You’re insane,” Emerson snarls as Kolya removes the server from the dining room with two clicks of his fingers. “He was doing his job!”
Her reply reminds me of how fast my trust dwindled when she left me at the altar looking like a fool, and when she peered up at me after swallowing my release like she was hungry for my cum.
My “spare” title didn’t shunt me from the family as much as my “inability to control my woman.” My father and grandfather treated me like a leper for years after Emerson dumped me.
I refuse to step into those shoes again.
“Speaking of jobs…” I wait for Emerson’s eyes to return to my face before saying, “You no longer have one. If I can’t trust you not to flirt with members of our staff in front of me, I don’t trust?—”
“You don’t trust me at all. Right? That’s pretty much what you insinuated earlier.”
When I nod, stupidly putting my head on the guillotine block, Emerson’s cheeks redden so fast that her face competes with the coloring of the wine a female waiter fills her glass with.
“And if I don’t agree with your new terms?”
She stares at me like she hates me when I nudge my head to the door she walked through only hours ago.
If she walks this time, she will lose far more than her heart.
Emerson’s lips twitch in preparation to speak, but before she can, the chef announces our meals are ready to be served.
After ten seconds of flicking her eyes between the menu and the chef, Emerson settles them on me. They’re still full ofcontempt and somewhat wet. “I haven’t ordered yet, so how could my meal be ready?”
“I ordered for you,” I reply while accepting the napkin a female waiter is attempting to place across my lap, happy to abide by the rules of our marriage, even after announcing them as if they’re solely for Emerson.
The waitress has been giving me gaga eyes all evening. She’s the type I’d usually go for. Blonde, big-breasted, and submissive. But with the tenderloin of all meats sitting across from me, it’s hard to pay attention to anything.
I walk straight into Emerson’s trap. “Then why were you eyeballing the menu when I arrived?” She doesn’t hide her smirk like the dozen staff around her do. She frees it as viciously as her mocking expression. “Is the Big Bad Wolf scared of Little Red Riding Hood?”
I bring her confidence down a smidge. “I was perusing the menu because I didn’t want anything to taint the image of you on your knees, gagging on my cock. Not even that pretty Little Red Riding Hood outfit that will only look better when it is sitting in tatters at the foot of my bed.”
Since my reply is honest, she can’t deny it.
Instead, she shifts her eyes to Chef and says, “To ensure there is no chance of thatmistakeoccurring again, I would like to change my order, please.”
Chef mumbles and groans before he seeks permission from me to humor her suggestion. Women have no say in the Dokovic world. Well, they didn’t. The tides have been shifting since Zoya entered the realm. They just haven’t stretched this far inland yet.
