Page 37 of Always Meant To Be

“That card has always and will always be yours. I hate that you haven’t used it, that you’ll make yourself suffer without it. You’re my wife, Elena; what’s mine is yours,” he murmurs, his eyes racing between mine.

“It’s not mine, Rome; it’s hers, just like you are.” I take a step back, causing his hand to drop, and I whisper, “If you weren’t hers, then you would have never protected her while I got shot,contract or not. If you were mine, I would have been your first thought, but I wasn’t. I wasn’t even an afterthought. Instead, I woke in the hospital to your brother.” I show him my sadness as his jaw ticks. I rasp, “My last memory of that day was you revealing your affair to everyone in my family, and yet, if a man shows me just the littlest bit of interest, you go caveman.”

Romeo fists his hands, and I sigh before limping past him, only for him to grab my arm with a gentle touch, pulling me into his body, his mouth going to my ear.

He whispers, “Never have I ever fucked your sister, Elena.” He kisses behind my ear. “I haven’t touched another woman since seeing you that first time in the dingy café.”

Tears blind me; I want to believe him but know I can’t.

I don’t look at him as I say, “If that’s so, Rome, then how does she know about your piercing? How does she know you have a scar on your inner right thigh?”

Romeo freezes, confirming my suspicions, and I nod while removing his hand.

Without a word, I limp toward the exit, my husband following a few minutes later, his arm instantly going around my waist to help me down the steps as we walk out the entrance. I don’t stop him, noticing quite a few faculty members still around, not wanting to be part of the rumor mill, and allow Romeo to guide me to his car.

He doesn’t say anything, and I don’t mind.

What’s there to say, though? He’s confirmed his affair, and now I need to deal with the heartbreak before my child is born. I know all hell will break loose once I leave, but I don’t care. I won’t have my unborn child be a pawn for more money, more power. I just won’t.

Twelve

Romeo – Two Weeks Later

I gulpmy scotch as I lean against the wall, looking out the window from my office that overlooks the garden. My eyes take in my wife as she gently removes the weeds from around the roses near her arbor.

She’s practically glowing, pregnancy suiting her. She’s ten weeks along, and a tiny swell has started to appear, a swell I only get to feel when she’s fallen asleep. Using the spare key, I’ve snuck into the guest room every night, a room she’s still refusing to leave, a room she keeps locking at night to keep me out.

Three fucking weeks without her in our bed, without her body connected to mine…. Fuck, I miss her.

I miss her trying to talk my ear off after I’ve come home. I miss the way I’d hold her from behind, placing my nose in her neck, inhaling her intoxicating scent. I fucking miss the way she’d look at me with love, because shedidlove me and still does, even if she doesn’t want to admit it.

The pain in her eyes proves it every time she looks at me.

Over the years, I ensured to bury myself deep inside her in every way possible while also keeping her at a distance in public, not wanting her to become collateral damage to Liliya’s fuck ups.

I made sure I became her everything, and now she wants to fucking leave me.

Elena smiles as she sniffs the rose. She carefully cuts it before placing it in the basket along with others, her long white blonde hair going everywhere in the slight wind, not that she cares.

She’s wearing one of my shirts and a pair of denim shorts, her feet bare. She looks fucking beautiful and comfortable, and the fact she’ll wear her hair down at home….

I take another sip of my drink, my eyes taking her in, watching her like some creep.

I fucking hate that she believes I’ve fucked her sister, that she thinks I’ve been having an affair. I knew Liliya would play on my being around her over the years, but I guess I was a fucking idiot to go along with keeping Elena in the dark about why.

Feeling my eyes on her, my wife turns, looking my way. Our eyes connect, and nothing but electricity flows through us. The sexual connection is strong, along with the love I feel for her, and the urge to storm toward her and grab her hits hard, my cock begging, but I don’t move. Instead, I keep my eyes on her, not willing to break our connection.

Three fucking weeks without her tight heat, and my cock is struggling, my balls always heavy, my right hand not helping one bit. My cock only wants one thing, and I’m staring at her, but she won’t allow me to touch her unless we’re out in public.

I tilt my head at her, willing for her to come to me, but instead, her eyes sadden, a look that fucking kills me, before she breaks the connection first, turning away from me to continue her gardening, something she loves to do. I sigh, sagging a little with disappointment.

I stand still for a few minutes, keeping my eyes on her, willing for her to turn again, but she doesn’t, and frustration builds.

She’s not giving me the time of fucking day, even when we went to Mexico. Renata apologized repeatedly, and all my wife could say was, “It’s a shame you missed your target,” while completely ignoring me.

Fuck, she even booked a separate room at the resort behind my fucking back.

Haven’t I fucking given her enough evidence to why I had to be the way I was—for her safety, her protection?