Page 87 of Vengeful Vows

He offers his hand. “Always.”

Wishing things were different, I accept.

He leads me to the bedroom where he undresses me. Quickly he strips off his own clothes before narrowing his eyes and stalking me.

I retreat until the bed brings me up short. Then he pushes me back onto the mattress.

As always, he brings me to orgasm after orgasm before seeking his own release.

“I miss you when you’re not here,” he confesses afterward.

His strong arms curl around me as he tucks me against his chest, whispering words he never says at any other time.

Then he kisses the top of my head.

I squeeze my eyes shut as I once again harden my heart. Each day, stupidly, I remain a little bit in love with him.

Until Nico, I was a rational human being.

Within two minutes, he’s asleep.

Hours later, I’m still staring at the ceiling.

How is this my life?

Every night, he fucks me. Every morning, he is a stranger. Every day I’m his captive.

As the clock turns to three a.m., I slip from his arms and the bed.

He murmurs my name.

“I’ll be right back,” I lie as I escape to the guest room where I lock the door.

Almost instantly I fall into an exhausted sleep, and a frantic knocking sound awakens me.

“Open this damn door, Bella, before I rip it off its hinges.”

Blinking, my head thundering, I rush to turn the lock.

He’s standing there, bare chested, a pair of lounge pants riding low on his hips, one hand burrowed into his hair. “What the hell is going on?”

“I needed sleep.”

“And…?” He scowls.

“This…our farce of a marriage… It’s wearing me down. It’s too much of an emotional roller coaster.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“I mean nothing to you, Nico.”

“You’re my wife,” he states flatly, as if that says everything.

Maybe to him, it does.

“What do you want from me?”

Your love. My answer is instinctive, and I can never confess that to him. “My freedom.” Those aren’t the words I’d planned to say, but they’re the truth, from deep in my soul.