Is it wrong to like your husband? Is it wrong to want him to own me so entirely that I’m completely one half of his being and he of mine?
No one has ever said I command them. Lex made it a point to tell me that his body, his loyalty, would always be to me.
I can’t think of another person to be so dedicated.
It can’t be that wrong to want him. Or to like him. We’remarried.
Did I want to stay married, even with these conflicting emotions, or did I truly still want my freedom?
I wanted my freedom, not because I had a plan to escape, but to find someone who would accept me. Someone who would place no constraints on me, except those I could offer in return. Lex has done that.
Now, I want to own Lex as completely as he does me. I want to be his equal and his partner.
That is freedom.
Pinching my brow, I curse softly.Fuck. Collins is right.I’m falling in love with my husband.
Dropping my phone into my bag, it takes me all of three seconds to feel the cool steel of a gun barrel into the side of my head and hear the click of a safety turning off.
My whole-body freezes, mind blanking. Panic wells inside my throat and the urge to scream is choked down by rancid fear.
“Give me your phone and purse.” The voice whispers into my ear. I smell hot cigarette smoke and old coffee. I try to look at him, but he digs the tip further into my head. Yelping against the pain, I stop.
“Don’t look. Don’t move. Hand it over.”
I do as he says, hands shaking. My shopping bags are by my feet, and he grabs them too as an afterthought.
“And your necklace.”
“What? No.” I shake my head, hitting the gun. He jerks and I still, completely forgetting how easy it is for him to pull the trigger. Atrigger that leads to a bullet. A very real bullet that could end my life, right here, on a side street in the middle of rush hour.
I just keep thinking how no one will find my body. How my siblings will never know. How Lex will kill every single person when he finds out someone took me from him. Because he will, I have no doubt of that.
“Hand it over,” he insists, voice muffled behind a mask. That gun clicks and I reach for the cross.
Tears well in my eyes and I can’t stop them from falling. I remove my cross, handing it to him, the final piece of my mother, gone.
“Now. Face down. On the ground.”
Sniffling, I drop to my knees quietly, palms out to catch my fall. “Do you know who I am? Who my husband is?” My voice shakes but I keep pushing. “He’ll never let you get away with this.”
He knocks the gun into my skull, shoving me into the cement. It smells like urine and exhaust and bile rises hard up my throat.
“That’s what I’m hoping for, sweetheart. Such gorgeous red hair,” he coos and I gag. “Keep that pretty face down or I’ll be forced to shoot that pretty little head. Understand?”
A sob escapes my lips, and I close my eyes tight. I’m not going to even attempt to look. I’m at a severe disadvantage and survival instinct is telling me to stay put.
I just spent the whole day avoiding my emotions for my husband, and he’s the last thought I have when facing death.
Ironic.
Footsteps echo around, growing distant, but I stay on the ground. When I open my eyes, I see Lex’s driver running toward me. But I don’t focus on him.
Just on the blurry outlines of my massive diamond that sits on my finger, bandage under it irritating the skin, reflecting the dying sunlight overhead.
Why didn’t he take my ring?
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