The Marriage Debt (De Vos Mafia #2)(50)

“Do you want someone to take over your empire after you’re under the ground?” I bark. “Then let me handle it.”

I click off the conversation before he can say anything else.

I know I’m not the son my parents wished for, but they’d better damn well be happy they still have me and that I’m willing and capable of taking over their empire.

Shoving my phone back into my pocket, I go inside the building and follow the elevator up to my floor. I can still smell her scent inside this small cubicle, drawing me back to the penthouse like a trail of breadcrumbs left only for me.

The scent of her perfume lures me inside, and I close the door behind me, listening to the sound. I know she’s in here. My guards make sure she never goes anywhere unattended. And the thought of having to hunt for her gets me riled up like nothing else.

“Bunny … where are you?” I ask, stalking around, looking underneath and behind all the furniture.

There’s not a peep, which tells me she’s hiding from me.

But I will find her … I always do.

“Oh, Jill, you know these games only turn me on,” I say, my voice cracking with lust.

When I go into my room, she’s not there, but I can smell her scent from miles away. Suddenly, the door is pushed into my face, and she charges at me. Without a second thought, I grasp her hands and shove her up against the wall, pinning them above her head so she can’t hurt anyone with them.

“Bad bunny,” I growl. “What were you thinking?”

“That I could knock you out?”

I laugh. “Like you could hurt me. There’s a difference between wanting something … and taking it.” I wrap one hand around her neck, squeezing to remind her who’s in charge.

“That’s what you do,” she splutters with difficulty. “You take and take, but you don’t deserve anything, and especially not my heart.”

Her words wound my soul, and I hate it.

But she just admitted that her heart is at stake here.

Is that why she ran from the restaurant?

My tongue darts out to wet my lips. “So you admit you feel something for me?”

“Hate,” she spits. “Hate is what I feel for you.”

I’d be lying if I said it didn’t feel like a knife straight into the heart.

Fuck.

Lucky for me, I never had one to begin with.

I release her neck and walk to the cabinet to fish something out.

“And?” she mutters behind me like she’s waiting for me to react.

Always trying to fish something out of me … something that doesn’t exist.

At least, that’s what I tell myself as I march right back to her and clasp the collar around her neck again.

“What? No!” she says, clawing at it while I tuck the key into my pocket. “I didn’t agree to this! You said you’d take it off!”

“And I also said I might put it back on.” I lift the charm with the tip of my finger. “Because this collar was made for you, bunny.”

Her face contorts in a beautifully twisted way. “I fucking hate you.”

The viciousness in her voice doesn’t match the look on her face. She’s yearning for something. I just can’t tell what.

I snort. “Keep saying that, and I might actually believe it someday.” I clutch the collar tightly, dragging her closer to me. “Just like I know someday you will beg me to make love to you.”

I swiftly spin her around and throw her on the bed, where there’s a chain hanging from the bedpost. I attach it to her collar, tucking that key into my pocket too.

“What are you doing?” she mutters, clutching the chain, jerking at it. “I knew I couldn’t trust you. See, that’s the thing with you. You only take. Use. Discard,” she retorts. Tears stain her eyes, but she refuses to let them fall. “I will never stop hating you for it.”

Mistrust.

Hate.

All the things I never wanted her to associate with me.

But there is no fucking way I can ever flip this around.

All she’ll ever do is hate me.

And all the lust and desire swirling inside me ceases to exist.

Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!

I hop off the bed, running my fingers through my hair, but the feeling doesn’t go away. In fact, the rage only gets worse, and worse, and worse.

Rage, not against her … but against myself.

Because no matter how hard I fucking try to make her want me, the wanting hasn’t ever gone beyond lust. But my fucking wife doesn’t want anything to do with me.

This isn’t how I imagined my marriage to her would be, what I dreamed about the moment I put a ring on her finger and called her my wife.

Fuck!

Before she can say anything else, I storm out of the room and slam the door shut.



Jill



* * *



I don’t care what he says or how badly I wanted to save my sister.

I am getting the fuck out of here.

I know I told everyone that I’d marry him. I wanted to spare her from having to deal with him. But this? Him toying with my body and emotions like they mean nothing to him? I can’t handle it anymore.

So I toil and toil with the little hairpin I fished from my hair until finally the chain around my collar gives way and the lock falls to the bed. My jaw drops. I actually did it. A big, fat smile forms on my lips, and I force myself to keep the squeal inside as I jump off the bed.