The Villain (Boston Belles, #2)(83)

I held up a hand to stop him. “Rewind. Separate accounts?”

Persephone signed an NDA and was definitely in no position to tell anyone about that.

Sam puffed on his cigarette, eyeing me wryly.

“Don’t tell me you were dumb enough to add her to your bank accounts, Kill.”

“No,” I gritted out. “But I deposit a sixty-thousand-dollar monthly allowance into her checking account. Seeing as she lives under my roof, eats my food, and generally lives at my expense, I figured this would be a sufficient amount for her not to look for any side gigs.”

“Well, that’s what she told the Arrowsmiths. You did know she works for them, correct?”

I did, and I didn’t.

Persephone told me months ago that she was planning on doing so but never followed up. I assumed—fine, hoped—her declaration to tutor Tinder Arrowsmith was just another way to get on my nerves. Trying to milk a human emotion out of me was her favorite hobby.

I didn’t think she would actually follow through.

That Tinder kid was a pathetic excuse for a…

“Cillian?” Sam slanted his head. I cleared my throat, tucking my hands under the table and cracking my knuckles.

“I knew,” I lied.

“Why didn’t you stop it?”

“Because I don’t care much what she does in her free time as long as she doesn’t nag me to spend time with her.”

“Well, start caring if you want to win the case against Arrowsmith. Tell your wife to drop their asses, pronto. If there’s one thing you don’t need right now, it’s for Persephone to give Arrowsmith ammo.”

“How much does her word really weigh?” I snarled. “She is just a stupid kid.”

“A stupid kid you’re married to,” Sam reminded me. “Dismantle her.”

“I will.”

“Why don’t we tail Goldilocks?” Sam flicked his cigarette straight into the ashtray, scanning my face for a reaction. “See what she’s up to.”

Because I contractually promised her I would never have her followed, and even though she enjoys taking long shits all over the contract she signed and break it time and time again, I’ve a feeling I won’t be able to get away with doing the same.

“Why would I waste my precious resources on my wife?” I asked dryly.

“Don’t you want to know if she still visits Mrs. Veitch?”

“She does.”

“And you don’t care?”

“For all I care, Persephone can go back to her loser ex after she’s done having my children.” I stood, collecting my phone and shoving it into my back pocket.

“Remind her you will drop her ass if she breaks your agreement,” he warned, his arms hooked behind the back, his thighs spread.

“Anything else?” I checked the time on my watch.

“Yes.” He stood, pointing at me. “Get your shit together. I’ve never seen you lose a poker game unintentionally. These assholes ripped you a new hole today, and it hasn’t even been an hour. I’ve never seen you at home before nine o’clock in the evening before, either. Guess what? Last week, I dropped by your office at half past six and was told you’d gone home early.”

I wouldn’t call six thirty early, exactly, but Persephone sent me a text with a picture of her wearing nothing but a nightgown the peachy color of her clit, and my dick all but signed Royal Pipelines over to Arrowsmith in a bid to go home early.

It infuriated me that Sam had a point, even if I was sure it was nothing but a phase to get my wife out of my system.

“I said I’ll talk to her. Know where the door is?”

He shot me a confused look. “Of course.”

“Use it.”

With that, I turned around and stomped up to the second floor.

It was time to teach Persephone that in the underworld, everything outside the narrow scope of what I found acceptable was bound to perish.





I fucked her first.

I knew the conversation was going to turn things sour between us and didn’t want anything to hinder my attempts to impregnate my wife.

Since she was senseless enough not to use fertility tests, I had to do it every day.

I tied my wife to the bedrails, ate her out, then ravished her several times until she was sore and tender everywhere.

I’d waited until we were both spent and lying on her bed before I opened the cigar box, which I had moved to her room, seeing as I’d spent most of my time there, and lit one up.

“You’re going to stop tutoring the Arrowsmith kids starting tomorrow morning,” I announced.

Persephone was still wrapped in her blankets, her golden hair fanned over both of us, her skin dewy like a spring morning.

She rolled toward me, her big blue eyes settling on my face.

“Excuse me?”

“I know you’ve been tutoring them. It stops right now.”

“Have you been following me?” Her voice turned from sweet to cold in seconds.

I flung the blanket off me and sat up, jamming my legs into my briefs.

“Sweetheart, let’s not pretend I care enough to have you followed. Sam follows Andrew, and he saw you going in and out of his house.”

“Sam’s an asshole.” She jumped off the bed as though she’d been burned.