Page 44 of The Mob: Shio Cuppacio
He looked down at his invisible watch. “’Bout five days.”
“Five days!” I screeched so loud that Jisei looked over at me with a raised brow. Her gaze shifted from me to Tunan, and her brow lifted even higher into her hairline.
“I’m good,” I said slowly so she could read my lips rather than hear me.
Turning my back to them, I stood directly in front of this crazy-ass man. “Five days, Tunan?”
“Yeap. Apparently, he, who must not be called Don in front of you, gets a kick out of fucking with my kind.”
“Your kind?”
“Forget it, my baby. Just say yes.”
“To being your wife?”
“To being my wife.”
“But, why, though?”
“I just told you why. We both can get what we want.”
“Seems like you get more out of the deal than me…” I sassed my words, hoping they weren’t shaky due to my nerves.
I was trying to process this while calming my body down. Tunan was too handsome for his own good. Throw the elephant dick in there, and he was a fucking problem. He had the potential to be my downfall, and I didn’t need that. I didn’t even need a fucking husband, to be clear; I just wanted to be included. A few unlimited shopping sprees, a mansion, and a big rock on my finger wouldn’t hurt either. That’s it. Some would say I wanted the impossible, but anything was possible, especially in the world my friends had been married into.
“You don’t want to marry me because there would be no sex, no love, no living together, no communication—unless we absolutely had to talk, and you wouldn’t be able to haveother women out in public. I would be an intolerable wife. An impossible one. Find somebody else.”
“No sex from a woman I already fucked the shit out of?” His thick brow rose, and I wanted to slap that sexy-ass smirk off of his face. Laughing, he held his hands up. “Aite. Nomoresex. No love, no living together, no communication unless it’s business, no flaunting these bitches, so that my greedy,impossible wifethat won’t give me no more coochie won’t get mad. Got it.” He said the words tentatively, as if me not letting him screw me again was merely an idea instead of a fact.
“Could you stop bringing that up? It was just one time, and I was drunk. I barely remember anything,” I lied, my voice drifting into a hushed tone.
I remembered everything.
Every inch. Every pound. Every which way he dug me out.
How could I forget the time when a man was able to knock my period on in a mildew-smelling-ass car?
“I need it in writing too… Drawn up by a lawyer and notarized, please. Stamped and sealed.” I couldn't believe my own words.
“Anything else, my baby?”
“And don’t call me that.”
“Don’t call my impossible wifemy babybecause it makes her pussy moist. What else?”
“And you’ll pay my mortgage. It’s no way I’m going to be paying bills when I’m married, on nobody’s earth. I’ll handle my car note and other bills.”
“Pay the mortgage, even though I can’t step foot in that muhfucka. Noted. Anything else, Greedy?”
“No wedding—it’s not real. A judge and that paper drawn up is good enough. Demise would be okay with that, right? Being that it’s not real?”
“That nigga don’t give a fuck what we got going. He just want us married.”
“Okay, that’s it… No, wait. If we argue, for any reason, you have to walk away. That’s non-negotiable, ” I stated, being sure to look him directly in the eyes. My parents used to argue as if it were just the two of them in the house, instead of the four of us, with two being their adolescent daughters. I refuse to ever have a screaming match with the man whose last name I took. That was dead.
He grew serious. “I’ll never put my hands on you, Glow. I was raised by women,” he assured.
“Well… good.”
