Stolen By The Boss

Meanwhile, I’m over here thinking about his… goods. What’s wrong with me? It’s like as soon as Dean mentioned we’d be going to this sex club, my mind has been occupied with only that.

The mechanics of the situation…

“We don’t really need anything this flashy.” I look at the five-carat oval-cut ring on my finger. It nearly blinds me.

“What do you mean?” Dean stares at me like I’m an inmate at an insane asylum.

“I mean, we can get something smaller, don’t you think?”

Dean crosses his arms over his chest. “Not a chance. No one would believe I’d let my beautiful wife walk around town without the finest rock I could find on her finger.”

Yup, the rings have a basic function. Announce to the world I’m his.

I blush at him calling me beautiful, though, and stare at the ring once more. “Ok,” I agree, knowing I won’t ever let this ring out of my sight.

“We’ll need to get other things when we get to New York.”

“Like what?” I ask, but I’m guessing I already know the answer to his question when he glances at my clothes. “Ah, I need to look the part.”

“Yes, new wardrobe. Maybe some sexy lingerie to wear to these parties.”

My eyes widen at the mention of lingerie being worn in front of other people. I’ve never been ashamed of my body, but it’s still a personal thing to me. I don’t want to show off my lady bits to strangers.

It’s been a full twenty-four hours since we hatched this plan to pose as a married couple, and in that time Dean and I have spent the entire time getting to know our likes and dislikes. I’ve learned he hates tea, but loves coffee. He grew up poor in Chicago. He left when he was around eighteen and went to work for a friend of his. I also know he killed Bishop once before, but it didn’t take. Bishop survived. Now Dean is adamant about killing him again.

I’ve told him superficial things about me. I’ve told him I survive on Italian food, pizza is my love language, and I hate macaroni and cheese. Sorry, but that’s not real Italian food.

I told him about my life growing up. About my sister and brothers. About my father’s death. I told him when I came to America I swore I would do something with my life, but lately all I’ve been doing is obsessing over killing Bishop.

We devised the backstory that we both met in New York at a party held by one of Mr. DeWinter’s friends. We fell instantly in love and he whisked me away to the Azores to get married. We’re newlyweds and Dean is into watching other men touch his beautiful wife.

It makes me wonder what kinds of things he’s really into.

My stomach has been a complete bundle of nerves since we’ve mentioned pretending to be married. Dean has a mutual friend with Mr. Hollingsworth, so he says he’ll be able to secure an invite easily.

Once the payment is processed, we leave the store.

“Let’s head back home and prepare for our flight,” Dean says.

My left hand is heavier than before. I can’t stop staring at the ring.

Do you think after this whole charade and I kill Bishop that Dean would let me keep this thing? Probably not.

Maybe I can steal it. Pretty things could turn a girl into a greedy Sméagol… my precious… I’m ready to proclaim.

No, that’s not me. I push the thought away. If I steal something that’s not mine, then I’m no better than Bishop. I won’t ever let my mind go there again.

“Tonight, I’d like you to sleep in my bed,” Dean says as we drive home.

“Your bed?”

“Yes, we need to be comfortable around each other.” Dean holds up his hand. “Don’t worry, I won’t touch you.”

The dangerous thing is, what if I want him to?

Chapter 9

Dean

* * *

Having Sophia in my bed tonight will be a true testament to my resolve and ability to not touch her. I’m a fucking master of restraint. Yes, we’ll pretend we’re married. And yes, we’ll go to these parties, but I’m not expecting to go through with anything.

We’re playing the part that I’m into watching and my wife is new to the scene.

So, my plan is my wife will change her mind at the last minute. Cold feet. Chicken out. Yes, we can get to maybe three or four parties before that excuse won’t cut it anymore. I never plan on letting anyone ever touch her.

My kink will be, I like watching other men touch what’s mine. However, that couldn’t be further from the truth. I’m a solo player. And I want no one touching what’s mine. Ever. Sophia for all intents and purposes is mine.

Even if we’re not really married, the want is clear.

And I want her like I’ve never wanted anyone before. Yet, I won’t let my mind or body succumb to the temptation of her.