Total pages in book: 164
Estimated words: 157003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 785(@200wpm)___ 628(@250wpm)___ 523(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 785(@200wpm)___ 628(@250wpm)___ 523(@300wpm)
“What did you say?” Her voice is deceptively calm, but I can see the figurative claws coming out.
“I’m saying it’s why you’re being irrational.”
She picks up a vase and heaves it at me. I don’t even have to duck out of the way because she throws like shit. My wife’s favorite things to throw are vases, so I keep having them replenished in our home. It crashes behind me and her chest rises up and down with fury.
“I am not being irrational, Kostas. I’m not being hormonal. You’re being a psychopath!” She’s too pissed to cry. Nothing but rage ripples from her. Normally, I like to pin her down and fuck the anger out of her, but she’s on the rag and isn’t into it.
I stalk over to her and grip her jaw, smushing her cheeks so her lips pucker out. “You married me knowing I was a psychopath. Don’t act surprised now, Mrs. Demetriou.”
She hisses like a fucking cat. “I’ll be Lady Macbeth, and I’ll kiss him! It’s what my grade requires me to do!”
Just thinking about her kissing that motherfucker makes me see red. I’d been proud when she auditioned for the part and got it, but the moment she reminded me she’d have to kiss the guy, I wasn’t having any of it.
“And I told you what I’d do if he kissed you,” I bite out, rubbing the tip of my nose against hers and pinning her with a hard glare.
“You can’t cut off his lips, you fucking freak!” she cries out, her emotions finally winning out over her anger. Tears well in her pretty blues and I hate that I caused them, but I won’t back down on this.
“I will. Tell your teacher you can pretend to kiss him. But I won’t have him taking what’s mine,” I tell her simply.
“You’re impossible,” she snaps. “I’m leaving.”
“How long is this Theater practice?” I ask, not releasing her pretty face.
“Two hours.” She rolls her eyes. “I know the drill. Come straight home. Don’t pass Go. Don’t collect two hundred euros. Just come back to the dungeon so my psychopathic husband can put me back in my cage.”
“Get over yourself,” I grumble, letting her go. “I swear, I ought to put you in a cage one week out of every month.”
Her lip curls up in fury. “I hate you.”
“Mhmm.”
“You can’t keep me pressed under your thumb forever,” she threatens, her lip wobbling slightly. “I won’t stand for it. You know this, Kostas.”
I grip a handful of her blond hair and kiss her pouty lips that keep spewing so much hate today. She doesn’t kiss me back, which really fucking pisses me off.
“You’ll stand for it because you have no goddamn choice,” I bite out and press a soft kiss to her forehead. “Have a nice time at practice.”
She pulls away and glowers at me for a moment before turning on her heel and stalking off. I should go after her, yank her back into the room, and make passionate love to her so she’ll calm down…period be damned. But I have a meeting with my father and I don’t have time to pacify her like usual.
“Don’t wait up for me,” she sasses over her shoulder.
“S ‘agapó, ómorfi gynaíka mou.” I love you, my beautiful wife.
The door slams before I even get the words out.
I’ll let her cool off and then I’m going to spend all weekend teaching her how to behave. A little duct tape. Some rope. Naked and at my mercy. It’ll be hard to be pissed when she’s had countless orgasms.
Sometimes I think Talia likes to fight with me just so we can make up.
We’re really fucking good at making up.
Father was in his bedroom when I arrived, laid up in his bed. For a man who months ago ruled with an iron fist he is weak now. So fucking weak. My mother made him that way. I helped him dress, along with his live-in nurse, and then wheeled him down to the dining room where his cook had made a fantastic lunch spread. An hour passes before we finish our meal and get down to whatever it is Father called me here for.
“How’s married life treating you?” he asks, his features hardened.
“Splendid.” He doesn’t need to know that Talia pushes every fucking button I have, but I secretly like it. Our fighting is foreplay. Father definitely doesn’t need to hear about that.
“Hmmm,” is all he says. “Where’s your brother?”
I pull out a phone and check for any texts.
Aris: On my way. Sorry I’m late. Selene’s mouth needed to be punished.
Rolling my eyes, I set my phone down on the table. “He’ll be here soon.”
One of Father’s servants walks in with a tray, bringing us some cookies and coffee. While she busies herself with setting everything out, I scroll through my phone checking on emails. I fire off a text to Talia.