Page 23 of Fatal Sloth
I grind my teeth, my fists clenching at my sides, trying to make sense of the situation. Whoever is behind this is playing a dangerous fucking game, and they're going to pay for crossing me.
I’ve killed men for less.
There is a double-crossing stronzo under my nose, and I have a bullet with his name on it.
Nobody takes what's mine.
After handling the bullshit on the loading dock, the last thing I need is Nico texting me, asking why the hell I’m not at home with my new bride. I haven't responded to any of his damn messages and stopped looking when he brought up something about a honeymoon. Knowing Nico was in my house cozying up with her only pissed me off more.
That fucker is asking for it.
The drive home is short, and my mood is still sour as hell. Daren confirmed that Nico had left, and I was hoping he was still there so I could take my anger out on him.
Pulling up to the house, I unbuckle the seatbelt and jump out as Enzo puts the car in park. Rolling down the window, he tries to say something from the vehicle. I hurry inside, not listening to what he is saying behind me as I shut the door, take the stairs two at a time, and head straight to her room. My brow furrows in annoyance, with a frown that has been engraved on my face all damn day. The tension bubbles under my muscles as I barge through the bedroom door, a little more forceful than I intended.
The door opens with a loud thud against the wall, making the door push back towards me, stopping Mia in her tracks. Frustration tightens her brow, her lips pressing into a thin line as she shoots me a glare over her shoulder. Her posture is frozen, with her ass still in the air, half bent over the bed.
My dick thickens behind my zipper, eyes glued to her ass, and I can't look away. I’m not a jealous man, but I'm a little envious of those tiny-ass shorts that let her ass cheeks peek out and a tank top barely covering her tits.
So many different things I could do to that ass.
Mia clears her throat, breaking my trance.
Fuck, what did I come in here for again?
Turning around, popping her hip with one hand on her side, she glares at me. “Did you need something?” she asks in a clipped tone. That confirms that annoyed look etched on her face.
Stalking towards her in a few long steps, we're only inches away now. “Did you know?” Part of me wants to blame her because a wife was supposed to make my life easier and not cause all of this added stress. But if she didn't know about the baby clause, I can't take my anger out on her. I’m not a total dick.
“Know about what?” Her tone is trepidation as her bright blue eyes peek from under her thick lashes and stare directly at me. A look of confusion quickly floats across her face before she schools her features into a calm, passive expression.
“The contract? The baby we’re supposedly having? Did you read that damn contract?” Firing question after question at her, not even giving her time to answer first before I ask another.
“A b-baby,” she murmurs.
Slightly smirking as her cheeks turn pink.
She gasps as I grab her chin with my thumb and index, tilting her face directly to me, looking her in the eyes. “Yes. Did you know?” I ask again, already knowing she didn't. The confusion on her face tells me everything I need to know, but her following words leave me dumbstruck.
“I didn't sign a contract. My father handled everything,” she says softly.
Instinctively, she pulls from my grip, stepping back until her legs hit the bed, and she sits on the mattress. My heart thuds; of course, she has no idea because that prick, Peter, signed on her behalf. I remember the day I walked into Dad's office when I barely noticed her sitting in the corner while Peter and Dad were talking business.
“Fuck,” is all I manage to spit out. Heat coursing through my veins, blocking out the details from that day, trying to check my rage. I'll direct it to who deserves it, and it's not Mia.
Brown meets blue—our eyes lock onto one another. The hate and my hostility from moments before leaves my body as I stare down at her.
“It’s nice to know I don't even have a say in what happens to my body,” she says, shivering as she hugs her knees to her chest. “What else did the contract say?”
Pulling my shirt off, I place it over her shoulders. “I didn't read it. I just signed it because I didn't think my dad would add in this shit,” I tell her honestly.
"How could you sign something without even reading it?" she pleads, frustration evident in her voice as she throws her hands up dramatically and rises to her feet. As she moves, her shirt lifts slightly, revealing the outline of her toned belly. When she turns away from me, I notice her shorts riding up, showing off her toned legs and ass. It's almost as if her ass is the only part of her body with any meat on it.
"Just so you know, I'm not forcing you to do anything," I assert, my tone devoid of emotion. "I'll find a way out of this mess."
"He'll be watching; he always knows everything," she murmurs so softly I can barely hear her. But I catch every word.
She’s right; he and Dad both will be watching. Running my hand through my hair, I make a mental note to save a bullet for that fucker, Peter. Speaking of the fucker, he mentioned wanting to send a few guards here to watch over Mia, the ones she had in New York. I assume it was because they knew her the best, but it’s just a way for him to keep tabs on her. The Commission. Me.