Page 46 of Mafia Obsession

Then the room seemed to tilt as pain exploded in my cheek, then my shoulder. Like he knows it’s hard for me to work on the computer when he does that. He wants my money but resents me working for it.

Later, I stood in the bathroom, staring at my battered reflection, trying to remember what I’d been thinking about before he called my name.

I’m prompted back to the present when Ares crosses the open space and approaches my desk with the same measured pace he approaches boardroom tables in negotiations.

“What happened to your arm?” he asks, calm but coiled.

“Nothing.” I stand up. “I’ll make your afternoon espresso.”

I stupidly think Ares will go back and wait in his office.

In the private kitchen, I feel his body heat behind me. I turn around with his cup in my hand. He takes it from me and throws it in the sink where it shatters.

“I don’t care about my espresso. Show me.”

“Show you what?” I feign ignorance, trying to be strong.

His hand lifts before I can step back, fingers brushing the edge of my blouse aside just enough to reveal a purplish-black mark.

“Whathappened?” His jaw tightens.

“I’m figuring a way out,” I say quickly, hating the defensive tone in my own voice. “I don’t need you to fix this.”

His eyes snap to mine. “I decide what I fix and what I don’t fix.” The restraint in his voice is stretched so thin it almost hums. “If he touches you like that again?—”

“I don’t want your help,” I insist softly. “That only makes me beholden to you instead of him.”

Darkness flickers across his expression. If it’s anger, I don’t think it’s at me. He acts like he wishes I was his and not married. But it bumps up against what I’ve heard about Ares Zervas. He doesn’t do relationships.

“I’m going to the Aurelian. That means you stay here. I don’t need an espresso. I need…” He steps back abruptly, adjusting his cuffs. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I exhale when he turns around.

That evening when I return home at my normal time, it’s not only me who’s gotten comfortable with my new hours. David didn’t expect me to walk in because a naked woman is riding his cock.

I kick the door closed. With strangled elation, I hope this gives me some kind of leverage in this relationship. That he’ll be sorry and agree it’s over. Or…

“Oh shit,” the woman says and dives off the sofa to grab her clothes. “You told me she works late.”

“She usually does,” David says, stuffing his cock back into his pants.

His bare cock.

“Get out of here,” David says.

The woman and I look at each other comically, not sure who he means.

I fold my arms and stand my ground. All those morning workouts, and eating better, and being treated with respect have made me bold. “He doesn’t mean me, bitch. I live here.”

The bitch leaves and yanks the door closed behind her.

I hold my work bag against my chest. “I want a divorce.” The words feel surprisingly steady as they leave my mouth.

David studies me for a long moment, eyes narrowing. “No.”

“What do you mean, no?” I stomp toward him.

“Something is happening.” David gets up and moves toward me. “Something big. We’re moving out of here soon.”