Page 47 of Devil's Iris
“What the hell is this, Leni?” he repeats, his briefcase dropping to the floor with a heavy thud. With both hands now free, he uses them to turn my chin so he can examine the left side of my face more closely.
Shit. The bruising from Mom’s slap yesterday.
I completely forgot I used makeup to conceal it last night.
“It’s nothing.” I pull my head out of his grip, taking a step away from him. “It’s nothing for you to worry about.”
His gaze darkens ominously. “Someone slapped you.Who?”
His tone makes it clear he’s not letting this go until I give him an answer. But damn it, I’ve got more important things to talk about. I huff out an impatient sigh. “I got into an argument with my mom yesterday. It’s nothing.”
“Nothing?” The word is soft, but it cracks like a whip, and I actually flinch. Fuck. I always forget what a dangerous man he is. “Does she make a habit of hitting you? Was she high?”
“N-no. It was–I–” I trail off when he steps closer, and I lick my lips nervously. “We argued. I said some mean things, and she hit me. She regretted it immediately.” My voice grows stronger, filled with confidence I’m not feeling. “It’s not going to happen again.”
“No,” he agrees, though his tone holds something I can’t quite place. “It’s never going to happen again.”
He turns and starts to leave, and I just stand there, watching him blankly. Now, what didthatmean? He’s not going to hurt my mom, is he?
Of course not, I scold myself almost instantly.What a ridiculous thought, Leni.
He’s nearly at the door when I remember the reason I came downstairs in the first place. “Wait!” I call, hurrying after him. He stops with his hand on the door handle. “You deposited fifty grand into my account?”
“Yes, last night.” His voice is cool again—none of the anger from earlier showing. A shiver rolls down my spine at how expertly he can mask his emotions.He really is a dangerous man.
“It’s in the contract,” he continues. “Fifty grand every month until the divorce.”
That goddamned contract. “I don’t–I don’t want it.” What the hell am I even saying?
He turns to stare at me like I’ve lost my mind. “What?”
“You paid off the full debt, which was why I came to you in the first place. You bought a house in my name. Got my brother into NYU and paid off all his academic expenses throughout his entire education.” I tick off each item on my fingers. “That’s more than enough, Romero. If you keep sending me money… I’ll start to feel like your kept whore.”
The coldness in his gaze thaws. “You’re not a whore. We’re not even having sex.”
“Yet. We’re not having sex yet. But next week after the wedding, we will. And I don’t want to feel like a bought prostitute afterwards.” That would be truly awful. It’s already hard enough not to feel that way, but it’s easier because he hasn’t actually given me any money before today. And like he said, we haven’t done anything yet.
He watches me for a long moment, and I fight the urge to fidget under his intense scrutiny. Is he going to argue with me about this? “Alright,” he finally accepts. “I already sent the first payment, so you can keep it. But I won’t send any more.”
A breath of relief flows through me. “Thank you.” He gives me a curt nod and turns towards the door again. “What–what are your expectations of me?”
He turns back to face me, a small frown creasing his forehead. “What do you mean?”
“Dinner tonight. We’re going to pretend to be in love with your brothers and their wives watching. That’s a given.” And I’m going to try my hardest not to mess it up. He’s done so much for me and my family, and this is the only thing he’s asking for in return—okay, maybe not theonlything, butstill. I’m going to be so convincingly in love with him, even he will start to believe it.
“But what happens after we get married?” I press on. “Yes, we’ll keep pretending to be in love and occasionally go outtogether. We—we’ll start being intimate and probably sleep in the same bed. But after that, what else?”
His frown deepens. “What else is there?”
“When we don’t need to go out together and you’re at work… do I just stay in here, locked up all day?”I’ll go crazy.
“You can do whatever you want. Take online courses if you want to get your bachelor’s degree.Anything.” He emphasizes the word as he checks his watch. “Can we talk about this later? I have a court appearance in two hours I need to prep for.”
“Oh… okay, good luck!”
He gives me another curt nod and then he’s out the door. But something reckless and desperate makes me follow him outside. Maybe it’s the need to practice for tonight, to test the waters of this charade we’re going to have to pull off. He tosses me a confused look but keeps walking towards the car waiting for him.
As he gets inside, I call out in my brightest, most adoring voice: “Have a great day, sweetheart!” I even wave at him, putting on the performance of the loving fiancée seeing her man off to work.
