Page 53 of The Worst Pucking Deal

Throwing my head back, I laugh so hard my entire body is shaking. Oh shit, this is too fucking funny. The way she curls her upper lip in distaste and the anger in her eyes is strangely adorable. Just as I get my laughter under control, she scrunches up her nose like a fucking bunny of all things, and the thought makes it hard to stop laughing.

Lucia continues, ignoring me completely. “Or maybe it’s because you told me to keep the sweater on. No, that couldn’t be it, could it? Tell me something, Sawyer.” She narrows her eyes. “Why did you think I would think that anything had changed?”

I run my hand down my face, trying to wipe the amused grin away. Not that I succeed. “Awww, bunny,” I coo. My grin grows as more red splotches of anger spread across her neck and chest. “Let me make myself perfectly clear. Apart from thinking about sinking my dick into your tight cunt, I don’t think about you. Drop the mind games and, for your own sake, don’t read too much into anything. You’d just be wasting your time.”

“So that’s how it’s going to be?”

Nodding, I fold my arms across my chest. “‘Fraid so, bunny. I thought I’d made it more than clear that when we’re here, I only care about what’s between your legs. And when we’re out there…” I gesture toward the windows. “…I only care about my image.”

“You’re disgusting,” she spits.

I shrug again. “Maybe so. But you’re the one who sought me out and married me. Don’t fucking forget that.” Leaning closer, I take her hand and pull it onto my hardening cock. “This is what you sold yourself for, bunny. Don’t start crying about it now. Especially not when you creamed all over me while I fucked you like a whore last night.”

“Do. Not. Call. Me. Fucking. Bunny.” With those words, she picks up her cup and swirls the now cold coffee in my face, making me burst out laughing again. “Dick,” she growls as she spins around and marches away.

Lucia

Who the fuck does he think he is?

That arrogant fucking son of a bitch just crossed a line I didn’t even know existed. Seriously, I thought I could keep my cool and play the dutiful girlfriend… wife. Hell. Fucking. No. I can’t. Everything in me screams for me to lash back, to get even—to show him I’m not a fucking puck bunny, like he insinuated.

Storming out of the kitchen after the incident, I seethe with frustration. Seriously, what makes him think treating me this way is okay? Like he has the right to push me away, dismiss me like a common puck bunny whenever he feels like it? It’s bullshit, plain and simple.

I’m Lucia fucking Russo, and this… nope. We don’t do that shit here; least of all to me.

Like the pissed off drama queen I am right now, I slam the bedroom door behind me. My breathing becomes labored when I hear his infuriating chuckle. Why isn’t anything fazing him? Wait… that’s not entirely true. My body very much fazes him. Right, that settles it. I need to get to my apartment so I can get the dress I need for tonight.

With a smirk grazing my lips, I walk into the adjoining bathroom and switch on the shower, the hot water, obviously. Might as well cost him a few bucks while I’m pretending to be in here. Then I sneak back out to the kitchen, glad to see he’s gone. As I get closer to his bedroom, I hear the water from his shower which is weird since he just showered before breakfast. Oh well.

I stealthily enter Sawyer’s bedroom, and yes, he isn’t there. Wasting no time, I gather my things and steal one of his shirts because there’s no way in hell I’m putting that sweater back on. As soon as I’m dressed and have my things, I leave the apartment, even ask the doorman to call me a taxi, which he happily does.

Entering the apartment, I’m hit with Gail’s absence. It’s all-consuming. The lack of her presence vibrates from every room, hell, from every corner of the home we share. Until tomorrow… the home we share until tomorrow. Then it’ll all be over; the end of an era.

Our place isn’t big by any means, but right now, as I’m the only one here, it might as well be the enormous mansion I grew up in. My texts to my best friend are still going unanswered. Actually, she never even opened the last three I sent. My finger hovers over her brother’s contact information on my phone. I’m itching to call him. If for no other reason, then just because I need to know she’s okay. And to tell her… how sorry I am for lying to her for all those years.

I miss her so badly my heart tightens at the thought of never speaking to her. Knowing that now isn’t the time, I let go of the idea and instead head to my closet, rummaging through it until I find the dress I want for tonight. Then I enter the bathroom and take a long shower. I stand under the hot sprays, scrubbing my skin red like that’s going to help me shred the layers of shit I’ve found myself in.

Done with my pity party, I set about getting ready for my big night out. I shave, scrub, use both a hair and a face mask, and even waste some of my expensive and luxurious coconut bath oil. Sawyer isn’t worth it, but I am. And since my legs are going to be on full display tonight, I want them to look their best.

Back in my room, I begin curling my long red hair until it’s all a mane of soft curls falling down my back. Then, because I still haven’t been to the damn hairdresser, I blow dry my bangs to give them a bit of volume, which makes them a tiny bit shorter, so they’re no longer shielding my green eyes.

My phone won’t stop ringing, but I ignore it. I refuse to let Sawyer ruin my me time. Especially since I feel a little better after my shower.

Taking a deep breath, I settle in front of the vanity mirror, ready to do my makeup. I spent hours in the shower, so by now, the sky has started to darken. I’ve already switched all the lights on in my room, and they’re enveloping me in a warm, familiar aura.

I begin by smoothing a light layer of primer over my skin, the cool, silky texture calming the simmering anger within me. Next, I apply a flawless coat of foundation, carefully blending it into my complexion. As I work, I catch glimpses of my reflection—a cascade of long, red curls framing my face, complementing the emerald green cocktail dress waiting for me.

For my eyes, I opt for a palette of shimmering emerald greens, carefully blending the shades together to create a sultry, smoky effect. With each stroke of mascara, I enhance the intensity of my green eyes, the color seeming to dance and shimmer with every blink.

A bold swipe of deep red lipstick completes the look, adding a touch of sophistication and glamor. With a satisfied nod, I take one last look in the mirror, the reflection staring back at me radiating confidence and poise. Tonight, I’ll make sure Sawyer knows exactly who he’s messing with… kinda.

I can’t tell him exactly who I am, of course. But I can show him a side of myself that I’ve kept hidden so far. The one that’s far less agreeable, the one that knows he’s fucking trapped and can’t get rid of me even if I stop obeying his stupid rules.

Game on, motherfucker.

The sounds of someone trying to break down my door by fist startle me. Before I can decide what to do, I hear him. “Open up, bunny. I know you’re in there.” I curse when Sawyer’s angry tenor reaches me. Who the hell does he think he is coming to my place like that? I have neighbors that absolutely don’t need to think there’s trouble in mine and Sawyer’s fake paradise.

I reach for my silk robe, barely managing to tie the belt before I rush to the door and throw it open. Sawyer’s hand is in the air, poised for another angry knock. “Get in,” I hiss. I look around to make sure no one is watching us before I close the door behind him.

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