Page 71 of By Blade, I Love
“Wolfe, I don’t?—”
“Let me save you some time. I’m not going to change my mind.”
She went quiet.
“Honor my wishes, and let’s move on.”
“The business brings in a lot of money. What am I supposed to do with all that by myself?”
I shrugged. “That’s your business. Buy a collection of cars, designer clothes and jewelry, reinvest it in the business…”
“Then how about this?” she asked. “The salary I take goes into our joint account.”
I still didn’t love it, but I knew I had to be reasonable.
“Both of our paychecks go to the same place. The rest stays with the business. I get to contribute to this family as much as you do. That sounds fair to me.”
I considered it for a moment before I gave a nod. “Alright.”
A heavy stretch of silence passed. We drank our coffee, and she had the last few bites of her bacon.
“What do you want to do today?” she asked.
My eyes flicked up the stairs and back to her.
“You said we’re already going to be up late tonight.”
“Your point?”
She grinned at what she thought was a joke. “I thought we could have lunch in the village and then come home and make dinner, andthenwe can stay up late.”
We had a lot of sex on a daily basis, and I knew all her holes could only handle so much fun at a time, but now that she was my wife, my desire had reached a new level. “Only if you put on your wedding dress so I can take it off again…”
We went to lunch in Caltanissetta and walked around and did some window-shopping, but within a couple hours, we ended up in a hotel and I fucked her the way I had the first time I’d had her, giving her all of my length with my hand fisted into her hair, until I dumped another load inside her to soak into her thong as she walked around for the rest of the day. Tears pooled in her eyes because she was sore and I was monstrous in size, but she came around me like she always did, her makeup smeared from the cascade of tears.
We went to the market next, she grabbed everything she needed to make dinner that night, and we returned home. It felt like an ordinary night, but I’d missed those ordinary nights when we stayed at her little villa. Before Warren had hit the house, that was the last time our lives were simple. Her father had discovered our affair, and nothing good had followed that moment.
It was nice to reclaim it.
She made dinner in the kitchen, chopping garlic on the cutting board, washing her basil, zesting her lemon, and preparing other ingredients before she started to cook the fish in the pan while the water boiled on the stove.
I was torn between wanting her not to do a bunch of work in the kitchen…and wanting her cooking. The staff at the main housefed everyone throughout the day, and while it was great food, it just wasn’t Francesca’s. Maybe I was biased and her food wasn’t remarkable at all, but it felt special to me. “Can I help?”
“No, I think I’ve got it.”
I leaned against the counter and crossed my arms over my chest as I watched her.
When she felt my stare, she met my look. “You’re just going to stare at me the whole time?”
“Yep.”
“I’m going as fast as I can.”
I smirked. “That’s not why I’m staring.”
She prepared dinner, managing different components without showing any stress. That was how she always was when she cooked, calm rather than anxious. She made a seafood risotto with prawns and swordfish with a side of sliced lemon.
I set the table and prepared the wine and sat down to a steaming plate of deliciousness. “You didn’t look at a recipe once when you made this.” I noticed she never checked her phone to see how much garlic or quantities of other ingredients she needed. She either winged it or had it all memorized. I took a bite of my food, and of course, it was amazing. “How do you do that?”
