Page 12 of His Brother's Wife
“Shit,” she said and got out of the bath. Love complicated everything, and it made her uneasy. What if she couldn’t hide it much longer? What would Jackson do?
And she didn’t want to risk Enda’s position in the family. From what he had told her, he had loved being a part of it, for Olivier’s sake at least. The two Gallo’s she loved with her whole heart would be hurt and she couldn’t stand that.
She dried herself, wrapped the towel around her, and went back into her bedroom to dry her hair. She was lost in thought as she grabbed her brush.
“Nice show you gave me there.”
Ama gasped and whirled around. Jackson was leaning against her door, smiling nastily. Ama reddened at the thought of him watching her masturbate.
“What the fuck are you doing in my room, asshole?”
Jackson smiled, then in a flash, he had her by her throat. “Watch what you call me,wife. I’ve had just about enough of your insubordination.”
Ama kicked out at him, struggling to get free. He clamped a hand over her mouth.
“Ssh, ssh …” He lay on top of her. He took out his phone and showed her a picture. “Do you recognize this apartment?”
Ama went cold. “It’s my sister’s place.”
“That’s right. Now, this photo was taken, oh, about three minutes ago. Your sister’s alone there right now.”
Ama stopped struggling. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Jackson grinned and kissed her, grinding his mouth down on hers. Ama tasted blood. “One of the two Rai sisters is getting fucked tonight, Amalia. It’s up to you which one.”
Ama’s horror was overwhelming. “You bastard …you leave her alone, you fuckingbastard.”
Jackson grinned. “That sounds like a decision to me.”
He yanked her towel away, admiring her naked body. “God, it’s about time I got to see the goods. You’re so fucking sexy …”
He was unzipping his fly now and Amalia started to cry. Would he really have Selima raped if Ama didn’t sleep with him?
Yes. You know he would. Oh my god …
Jackson pushed her legs apart and thrust into her, and Ama cried out. Jackson clamped his hand over her mouth again. “Now listen to me, whore. I’m going to fuck you every night of our marriage, and you’ll let me, or I swear to god, I will hurt everyone you care about. Everyone. And I’ll finish with you, Amalia. I swear to god. And if you ever leave me? I’llkillyou. I’ll rip you apart.”
He continued to thrust as silent tears poured down Ama’s cheeks. She closed her eyes as he pumped away, his cock shooting thin streams of cum inside her.No. No, this cannot be happening.
He pulled out, satisfied. “Guess I got the worth of the bride price now.”
Ama curled up in a ball and sobbed. Jackson chuckled. “Get used to it, little girl. I mean it when I say I’ll destroy you if you tell anyone about this.Anyone.”
And then he was gone.
Ama stayed curled up on the counterpane, shocked to her core about what had just happened. Rape. Jackson had raped her. He’d threatened to have her family attacked and threatened to kill her.
How the hell was she ever going to survive this marriage? Her burner phone vibrated in her nightstand drawer, but she couldn’t face talking to Enda—not to the man she loved when the man she despised had just done this to her.
Ama wanted nothing more than to go to sleep and never wake up.
Raffaelo Winter bear-hugged his good friend Enda as soon as Enda saw them alight from the private plane. Inca, Raffaelo’s exquisite wife, was grinning and rolling her eyes at them. Enda laughed as Raffaelo released him and he embraced Inca.
“Hello, gorgeous. Still married to this wretch, then?”
Inca smiled at him. She had stunning eyes, he thought, warm and loving, and her face was perfection. Her long, dark hair was caught up in a ponytail, and she was adorably scruffy in t-shirt and jeans. Enda was hit with the thought that she and Ama would have a lot in common. Both Indian-American, both gorgeous talented and funny.
They chatted as they drove in Enda’s limousine from Raffaelo’s private jet, and Enda marveled at the easy love between Raff and Inca. They had been through hell together, but were still as in love as ever. Raffaelo, his dark curls now cropped close to his head and flecked with silver, sported a beard which made him look, according to Inca, like a ‘sexy grumpy professor.’”
