The Marriage Debt (Underworld Kings)

Because that boy in there manages to burn down every inch of self-worth I have left.

Nothing matters to him.

Not my feelings, not my wishes, not even my dignity.

Right in front of my own damn family … and I let him.

I shake my head and continue walking, despite the cold.

I should’ve known better than to let him seduce me into doing it again myself.

Oh my God, just the thought of my fingers on my pussy felt so wrong, yet I did it anyway … because he told me to. Because he was there, watching me, jerking off, and something in me … snapped.

It’s like all lights went off and all that was left was the lust between us.

Fuck.

It was so wrong.

But what else was I supposed to do?

Why does he have to make it so hard on me to be his wife?

Every time he touches me, it sends off fireworks in my body, but the second I start to even enjoy it, he ruins everything.

I can’t let go like that anymore. I can’t let him … get close. Even if he is my husband, and I have to abide by his every whim.

But every time I give in to his demands, he still manages to creep closer and closer to the one thing I promised myself I would never give to him.

No. I have to stop.

“Where do you think you’re going?” someone suddenly says.

A few feet away from me, a man in a suit casually taps his feet on the ground.

Panic swirls in my veins. “Who are you?”

“Who do you think?” he responds.

Luca’s guard, probably. Fuck. They really are everywhere.

No wonder he casually let me stroll out of the restaurant. He knew I couldn’t go anywhere without bumping into one of his men. Even when I think I’m free for a moment, I’m still trapped.

“Go back inside,” the man growls.

“I’d rather die,” I spit.

I hear the familiar click of a gun as he fishes something out of his suit. “I can arrange that if you don’t do what I tell you,” the man says.

A shiver rolls over my spine.

“Don’t even think about it,” a dark voice behind me barks.

Luca’s familiar face springs out in the streetlight illuminating the road as he walks closer and places a hand on my shoulder. Cold to the touch. Frigid enough to make me tense up.

“I’ll take care of her,” he says. “Call the driver. Get him to pick us up.”

“Yes, sir,” the man replies, and he quickly tucks away his gun.

“And go back inside and guard my family,” Luca tells him.

“Of course, sir.” The man nods and quickly walks past us, back to the restaurant doors that I so gratefully left behind.

But I should’ve known better than to ever think I could escape this mafia world. But most of all … Luca fucking De Vos, my fucking husband.

“What are you doing out here?” Luca asks.

“What does it look like?” I sneer, full of resentment.

He clutches my wrist. “Stop playing coy.”

“Why can’t you just let me take a breather?” I mutter.

“You know why,” he replies.

I jerk my wrist out of his grip. “You don’t even trust me.”

“Do you think I can?”

I don’t even have to look at him to know he’s raising a brow at me.

“Never mind,” I retort, and I push away from him, determined to continue walking even though he follows my every footstep.

“What are you going to do? Ignore me?” he asks.

“If it helps,” I quip.

He snorts. “You know you can’t get rid of me.”

“Maybe if I wish for it hard enough, it’ll magically happen.”

“Wow,” he scoffs. “You sure are good at lying to yourself about what you really want.”

I keep my head high as I walk through the dark of night. “I do.”

“Sure. Or maybe you just hate the fact that you loved moaning for me.”

I spin on my heels and point at him. “Don’t.”

“Why?” He tilts his head. “Too much truth for you?”

I step closer and push my finger into his chest. “Stop it. Stop trying to change the narrative.”

“I’m not doing anything.” He grabs my finger. “Why do you try to hate me so much?”

“I’m not trying,” I hiss back.

“Yes, you are.” Suddenly, he reaches for my face, and he caresses me so gently I’m caught off guard … and my entire face heats.

He smirks. “You’re blushing.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You’re thinking about what we did in the bathroom?” he muses.

“No,” I say, but the heat only spreads further and further until I feel it everywhere, just like when I touched myself.

Oh, God. I’m so embarrassed we did that in a public bathroom with our family sitting outside at the table mere feet away. They could probably hear everything.

“You’re constantly telling yourself you shouldn’t like me,” he says.

“I’m telling myself you’re insufferable for making me do all of that,” I retort. “And in front of our family too.”