Page 171 of The Forbidden Villain
“My best friend knows not to call me while I’m with my family.” Fresh after the hunt. I keep that tidbit to myself because five-year-olds tend to hear everything.
“Well, forgive me, Levi, but I just got accused of murder. And the prosecutor assigned to my case hates me, so this complicates things for me.”
Fucking hell.
If it’s who I think it is, then he’s in deep shit. That guy has an unhealthy obsession with us all and vowed to put at least one of us in prison even though he has zero evidence.
“Where are you? I’ll call Rafael and Scarlett right away.”
“I already did. Who do you think got me out?”
“So what?—”
“They have one witness to the crime, and they want to force her to testify.” A beat passes. “It’s Aurelia.”
Well, if that isn’t divine justice for all the suffering the woman endured at his hand, I don’t know what is.
“Wyatt, according to the law, she will have to testify. How much does she know?”
“She saw the whole thing, so everything.”
“I’ll try to talk?—”
“No need. She won’t testify.”
“She’s legally obliged to do so.”
“Not anymore.”
Realization hits me. “No.”
“Oh yes. Married her. How did I not think about it sooner? Nothing destroys a woman’s life more than a shitty marriage. And it will keep Ian away from her. He deserves better.” I ignore this comment because Ian’s interests lay elsewhere. Wyatt is just too blinded by his hate to see it. “Anyway, I thought you should know your best friend is a married man now. I won’t be coming to the party, so please apologize to Rush and Aileen on my behalf. And tell Dahlia her godparents will come to see her soon.”
He hangs up while I’m standing speechless, not even sure what to make of this news.
One thing is for sure, though.
This marriage, or whatever the fuck it is, will bring trouble to us all, and Wyatt will lose the little control and logic he had left when it comes to Aurelia.
Dahlia finishes tying her ribbons and raises her fists up in victory. “All done!” She’s been learning this for a while now, so I clap for her.
“Are you all packed?”
“No. Too many dresses, Daddy!”
Both of my girls share a love of shopping and dresses, so they have large wardrobes, and it’s almost impossible for Dahlia to pack just one suitcase.
We balance it all out with her attending charities and shelters with her mom, so she wouldn’t grow up to be a spoiled brat.
“You need only five.” She frowns but nods and then claps her hands, and shouts, “Mommy!”
Deep possessiveness and satisfaction rush through my veins at the sight of my gorgeous wife walking toward us wearing a long summer dress that hugs her body in all the right places and shows her delicate and bitable curves that my hands are itching to touch.
Her long hair falls down her back, and she smiles when Dahlia reaches her and kisses her on the bump before patting it gently. “How is my baby brother, Mama?”
Yes, she’s pregnant again, and how I love that fact, as it’s another way to show everyone she belongs to me and it’s me who made her this radiant and beautiful.
My sense of ownership and possessiveness only grew within the years, transforming me into a man who is completely obsessed with his wife, and thankfully, she doesn’t mind it.
