“Disobey, and I will give you what you’ve been begging for.”
Divorce.
She’d been throwing the word around often enough. Like I was the one at her mercy.
“Say it,” she hissed, her eyes challenging me. “Tell me what you’ll do. Tell me I mean nothing to you.”
I gripped the back of her neck, feeling my dick hardening in my briefs as I did. I couldn’t allow it to turn into makeup sex. The daily dinners were enough. Her constant presence pushed me to my limits.
“If you continue to ignore our contract, I’ll have to break my part of the bargain, too. If you still work for the Arrowsmiths by mid-week, I’m putting Sam on your ass to tail your every movement. Next, I’m taking a flight to Europe, to fuck every abled body in my vicinity. Then—without taking a shower to wash them off—I’ll come back to put a baby in you, with ovulation tests.” My lips touched hers as I spoke, and I felt her trembling against me, both with anger and lust. “Their smell and juices inside you. To remind you that you are nothing but a plaything to me. The sad part is that we both know you’d let me, Flower Girl. You’ve been hot for this dick since the day you saw me. But you’d hate yourself for it, and every time you would look at our child, you would see what I’ve done to you. Know your place, Persephone. You are not here to co-rule the kingdom by my side. Merely to help me continue it.”
She ripped her mouth from mine, pushing my chest as hard as she could, her teeth chattering.
“You wouldn’t touch someone else.” She pounced forward, pushing me again. “You wouldn’t.”
“Really?” I raised my eyebrows, feigning interest. “What makes you say that?”
It was bad enough I couldn’t spit the word divorce out of my mouth. Now I had to stand here and listen to why I was apparently in a monogamous relationship.
My life certainly took a turn for the worse since our genitals became acquainted.
“You will never find what we have elsewhere,” she seethed. “And you’re the stupidest smart man alive to think that you can.”
“Are you done being dramatic?” I leaned a shoulder over the doorframe of her bedroom, crossing my arms like an exasperated father.
“Are you done being heartless?” she countered.
“No. Which brings us to the only reason you’re still here—you’re not pregnant yet.”
“Have you considered I might not be able to have children at all?” She began putting her clothes on. Panties first, then an oversized shirt.
“I have,” I said. “The minute I came up with this plan, I made a list of pros, cons, and potential complications. Possible infertility was at the top of the cons list.”
“And?”
“And everyone is replaceable.”
She froze, not moving an inch.
“I see,” she said carefully. “In that case, don’t let me waste your time.”
She had already taken months of my time but telling her so would be counterproductive to us reproducing.
“I’ll be continuing my employment with the Arrowsmiths. You can find another suitable candidate to have your precious children,” she said matter-of-factly, plucking a brush from her nightstand, running it through her hair.
Perhaps I misheard. No one was as stupid as to throw away wealth, mind-blowing sex, and freedom for a stupid principle. What we had was different. It was…
What? A voice inside me chuckled. You just told her you were going to visit your paid-for flings if she doesn’t comply, then added that, by the way, if she can’t get pregnant, you will replace her with a 2.0 version.
I knew I needed to turn around and walk away, but something told me I wasn’t going to get a good night’s sleep if we left things as they were, which was absurd. I’d always slept like a baby. Came with the territory of not having any regrets, worries, or a soul.
“You’re still here.” She flung her magnificent hair to one shoulder, parting it into three sections and braiding it as she got ready for bed. “Why? I told you my decision.”
“Don’t be stupid,” I warned her.
“The only stupid thing I did was marry you.” She stopped mid-braid to lunge forward, pushing me the rest of the way out of her room, then slammed the door in my face.
I trudged back to my bedroom, too angry to think straight. I said divorce wasn’t an option, and I’d meant it. If Persephone wanted out of this marriage, it’d have to be in a coffin. Whether I was the one inside it or her was the real mystery.
Once I got to my room, I noticed my phone was flashing with new text messages.
Sam: Stop her before she costs you this fucking lawsuit.
Sam: Don’t let anything fuck it up. Least of all a woman.
Cillian: Have her followed, tracked, and surveyed at all times starting tomorrow morning. Track her phone and text messages, too. I don’t want my wife to take a piss without knowing about it.