Page 16 of Always Meant To Be

I can’t and I won’t; instead, I need to think of another way to leave him, because as much as I love him, I know I can’t stay with him anymore, and I know he won’t leave me because of his family’s morals, even after realizing I can’t fall pregnant, just not realizing why.

I’ll figure out a way to leave, and, in the meantime, I’ll act like the cowed wife he wants so badly. I won’t make conversation with him at dinner time, I won’t call or text during the day, and I’ll keep my mouth shut when he wants my body, letting him get it over with.

I’ll let him live his life with his lover, and hopefully, if I do get to leave, I can move on to another country under a different name and, hopefully, try and be happy.

Simple right?

Four

Romeo – Age Thirty

I stabthe fucker in front of me in his thigh, his screams echoing in the basement, blood squirting.

My fury is too fucking much, and not even torturing a traitor is breaking it.

How in the fuck did I get her breakfast fucking wrong when I know what she loves, when I know her inside and fucking out?

Four years and my wife is still my fucking obsession.

Pancakes with berries, vanilla fucking ice cream with shitloads of strawberry sauce, hot bubble baths in the evening with a good book, sitting on the comfy couch in the library in front of the fireplace grading papers, a glass of wine seated underneath the arch I built for her.

I fucking know her, and I fucking know what she’s allergic to, and yet I fucked up.

“Jesus, who pissed the boss off?” Mario, one of my soldiers and blood cousin, mutters from the side wall as I rip the knife out of the fucker’s thigh.

Antonio replies, “He’s in the doghouse.”

Doghouse? Fucking doghouse isn’t even the name for what I’m in right now, because all I’ve done is increased her suspicions.

I only know her sister’s favorites because of all the fucking breakfasts I’ve had to deal with over the years at my father-in-law’s home. It’s the only thing Liliya would fucking eat, stinking the place out with eggs, while we tried to figure out a way to stop the Mexican’s wife from going crazy and killing her, causing a war. But Liliya keeps trying to fucking contact Miguel, winding Renata up, knowing she’s under my protection per the stupid contract Mikhail has continuously apologize for, while Miguel is ready to kill the bitch himself, putting us all out of our misery.

Four times a week, I’m at that fucking house to sort out the guards around the cunt, none of my men wanting the job, while Mikhail's wife forcing breakfast on me when I arrive, trying to get me to speak to Liliya.

“Ah fuck, what did he do? Did El find out about the torture chamber down here?” Leonardo asks as I stab the traitor tied to the chair in his other thigh, causing him to cry out, tears and snot running down his pale face.

“Nah, it turns out this is the first time in four years the fucker has been home when Elena has woken up, and then got her favorite breakfast wrong, having the chef make her sister’s favorite instead, the same sister she believes he’s having an affair with, her words confirming it this morning.” He pauses for dramatic effect, like the fucker he is, making me roll my eyes. “Oh, and it was also a breakfast El is allergic to, and could have killed her.”

I growl, pulling the knife out as Harry pleads, “Romeo, please, I didn’t sell you out to the Irish; I wouldn’t do that! Please!”

I sneer at the pathetic fucker. “We have proof, Harry. You looked real fucking cozy smoking cigars at their bar last week, laughing with their men.”

Harry’s brown eyes widen in fear before he sees my knife coming to his right, stabbing it, the knife going in easily.

He screams, which is music to my fucking ears, as he struggles in the chair.

“Please, please, Romeo, have mercy,”he cries.

“He’s really fucked up this time then, because somehow I doubt El is going to forgive this one,” Leonardo mutters, ignoring Harry’s pleas, causing my anger to heighten.

“It gets worse, when El turned his breakfast down, the fucker implied she wanted to eat at school because of the teacher who’s sniffing around her,” Antonio replies, and I growl again, looking at them sharply.

None of them pay attention to me, angering me further, and I force the knife out of a passed-out Harry, before I slice his throat.

“The fucker wants her,” I snap, not turning around.

Every lunch, he sits with her, too fucking close for my liking, and looks at her like he wants to fucking devour her.

He’s lucky he still has his legs, which is only because Elena hasn’t paid any attention to his advances.