The Kiss Thief(75)

She chuckled, looking down at her legs, her cheeks flushing. “You treat me like a kid.”

“Please. If I did to kids what I want to do to you, I’d spend the rest of my life in a secluded cellar, and for damn good reason.”

She crouched down, fingering the flowerbeds for dead leaves she collected, then threw away. I stuffed my fists into the pockets of my dress pants, watching her back. Nemesis had Dimples of Venus on her lower back, and the need to sink my thumbs into them as I ate her out from behind smashed into me. I cleared my throat.

“Pack a bag and some snacks. We’re leaving.”

“Huh?” She still gardened, not even bothering to look up.

“We’re going to my cabin on Lake Michigan tomorrow for the weekend. Getting some rest is clearly not on your agenda, so I’m making it.”

She twisted her head to watch me, squinting at the sun and using one of her hands as a visor from it. “It’s no trouble. I’m not hurt, Wolfe.”

“You look like you’ve been beaten up, and people are especially good at speculating. I need to get you out of town.” It was only partly true. Having my new wife parade her banged-up face in public was less than ideal, sure. But I didn’t want any company other than her, either. Sterling was always sniffing around us, and Smithy was a general pain in the ass. In addition, Bishop wasn’t wrong. I did not, in fact, have any friends. Distancing myself from my enemies for a couple days wasn’t the worst idea I’d had. I needed a breather, and, quite frankly, Nem was the only person I could somehow tolerate right now.

“I have a lot of homework,” she said.

“Take it with you.”

“I’d hate to leave Ms. Sterling alone.”

“She’ll have security stay with her. We’re leaving alone.”

“That’s against protocol.”

“Fuck protocol.”

There was silence. She was chewing her lip, which meant she was trying to come up with another obstacle.

“You can drive a portion of the way to the cabin,” I offered, sweetening her deal. She perked just as I knew she would. Her experience with Bandini’s assholes did not deter her from learning. It was part of the reason why I couldn’t hate her. Not even if I tried. She was driven, and the best part was that she didn’t even know it about herself.

“Really?” Her eyes shimmered with excitement. Clear blue like the summer sky. “Even after what happened?”

“Especially after what happened. You aced it. How’s your forehead?”

“It looks worse than it feels.”

It looks beautiful.

Of course, uttering those words wasn’t an option. I turned around toward the balcony, retreating from the garden and my wife. When I reached the glass doors, I stopped, stealing one last glance at her again. She was crouching back down, resuming her work.

“You won’t have to worry about them anymore,” I said.

“Them?” She blinked. The list was growing by the second. First, her father, then the Bandinis.

“Every asshole who ever had the faintest idea to hurt you.”

I went into my office and locked myself there for the rest of the night, not trusting myself to go to her room for my nightly feast on her without sleeping next to her. As it was, I had a control issue.

I lacked it.

She had all of it.





IT TOOK ME AN ENTIRE hour to unwind behind the wheel.

Not only did I worry about ruining Wolfe’s precious Jaguar—the flashbacks from Bandini’s guys slamming into the Cadillac from behind as they chased me—but I also didn’t feel overly comfortable around my husband. After spending the night with me, he hadn’t come to my room last night. We were going to his lake house. Was he planning on sleeping in different rooms there, too? Frankly, I wouldn’t put it past him. I had no one to advise me about our situation. Cosmo and Marie Claire, my only sources of relationship advice, didn’t exactly cover the subject of an arranged marriage with cruel, severely emotionally stunted senators in the twenty-first century.

Ms. Sterling was biased. She’d tell me anything I wanted to hear to ensure that I was happy with my husband. My mother was too busy trying to save her own marriage, and Clara was the closest thing to a grandmother I’d ever had, so, yeah, gross.

I could call Andrea, but I feared becoming a charity case at this point.

Always disoriented. Forever clueless.

That left me to stew in my thoughts all the way to the cabin on Lake Michigan. When Wolfe called it a cabin, I thought he meant somewhere quaint and modest. In practice, it was a luxurious estate, crafted from rock and glass, boasting an outdoor hot tub, a direct view of the lake, elevated, wooden balconies, and an architecturally mesmerizing rustic charm. It was tucked among cherry trees and lush, green hills, far enough from civilization without having that eerie air. My heart swelled at the prospects of spending time with my husband so far away from everyone. But mixed with the excitement was a dash of fear.

“I feel another string of Nemesis questions coming my way.” Wolfe was sitting cross-legged on the passenger seat, flipping my Zippo between his strong fingers. I munched on my lower lip, tapping my thumbs against the wheel.

“Have you ever been in love?”

“What kind of question is that?”