Shayla Black - Forever Wicked

“And Tony will never have justice. A killer is still on the loose. My brother’s children will never really know their father. My parents won’t ever be complete again. My sister-in-law doesn’t say a word, but I know she’s tormented that I haven’t caught Ricky Wayman and made him pay for Tony’s murder.”

Not that Gia had given up. More than once, she’d gone to the thug’s crime-ridden neighborhood alone to seek out Ricky. She didn’t plan to stop until she brought him in. Confessing that to Jason wouldn’t be smart. At this point, she didn’t know exactly what his reaction would be, but she didn’t think it would be pleasant or accepting.

“What if you got yourself killed? How would your parents take that? What would your sister-in-law do without you?” he challenged.

She couldn’t quite meet his gaze. “Since I’m in no danger of being on the streets anytime soon, I guess it’s not an issue.”

Jason sent her a hard stare. “You’re safe.”

“I feel useless.”

“I would still make those same phone calls again.” He grabbed his beer and took a long swallow before setting the bottle far too carefully on the table. “What do you want to happen next? With us, I mean.”

Now came the conversation she’d dreaded and feared, but they had to air this out. “I’m assuming you want a divorce.”

She hadn’t been any sort of wife to him, so that seemed logical.

Instead, he just looked pissed off. “You’re assuming?”

“We can’t go on this way.”

“Finally. Something we agree on.” He leaned in again, elbow braced on the table as his stare snared hers. “So I’m going to give you a choice: Spend between now and our anniversary with me—and I mean twenty-four/seven with me, in every fucking way I deem. If the twenty-fourth rolls around and you still want a divorce, file. I won’t fight you. In fact, I’ll not only honor the terms of our prenuptial agreement, but I’ll give you the amount stipulated if we’d remained married five years. If you want a divorce now, I’m filing tomorrow, and you get nothing.” He raised a brow at her. “Decide.”

Gia sucked in a breath at his proposition. “This instant?”

“The offer is only good for the next ten minutes.”

She’d always known that Jason played hardball, but she hadn’t expected him to use those skills on her. The prince she’d fallen in love with wasn’t trying to reconcile with her, but control and punish her.

“So you’re trying to coerce me into bed for a little revenge, or do you just want to work me out of your system?”

He shrugged. “My motivation is irrelevant. I merely asked you to make a choice.”

Gia’s immediate instinct was to tell him to shove his choice up his ass. She couldn’t be bought, no matter how rich and powerful he was. On the other hand, her conscience wouldn’t allow her to turn her back on him again. Besides, the two hundred fifty thousand dollars he dangled in front of her face could change her entire life. All she had to do was give the man she loved slightly less than three weeks of her time.

It wasn’t exactly a nightmare scenario—except for the part where he probably ended up crushing her heart at the end. Maybe she deserved it. Jason might not admit it, but she knew she’d hurt him this past year. If having her under his thumb for a few weeks enabled him to move on after they ended, she owed him that.

“I’ll come with you.” She’d figure out what to do about work, what to say to her parents, how to make sure Mila and the kids had the help they needed.

A satisfied little smile danced across his lips. “Excellent. Present yourself at my condo tomorrow at precisely six p.m. Arrive wearing no more than three garments and a pair of high heels. Pick whichever three you want, but if I have to peel off more than that before I fuck you, we’ll start with punishment.”

Shock whiplashed her. He’d always been direct, but his sharp command, followed by the declaration that he intended to take her to bed, both made her mad and frothed up her libido. She hadn’t had sex since their wedding night. She hadn’t even had energy or privacy for masturbation. Though her long-denied sex drive wasn’t at all upset about his demands, her head knew that his proposition was riddled with land mines. Eventually, this would blow up in her face.

Still, she couldn’t possibly refuse.

“Fine.”

Neither of them said a word more until the waiter set their food down. Even the smell of Jason’s sizzling fajitas didn’t rouse her appetite for food. Another sort of hunger plagued her. Why should she want him so much when he was being a ruthless bastard? Because she’d always found that side of him hot, and Gia’s own excitement now pissed her off.

He thanked the waiter, then turned back to her. “If work presents a problem for the next few weeks, I’ll make the necessary phone calls.”

“Of course you will,” she drawled.

He ignored her jibe. “Does your sister-in-law need a nurse or a nanny during your absence? If so, I’ll provide it. I have no desire to leave them in a bind.”

Guilt stabbed her. Gia softened. “Thank you. That’s generous of you.”

“Not at all. I don’t want you spending our time together thinking about anyone else.”

Of course not. And Jason was used to getting his way.

Gia stifled her guilt. “I’ll talk to Mila tonight.”

“Whatever she needs so she can manage without you for a few weeks, she’ll get. Are we understood?”

The concept wasn’t difficult. Jason had bought her until November twenty-fourth, and she’d let him. Though she’d chosen this path of her own free will, it made her feel dirty. “Yes.”

He nodded at her. Then the conversation ceased, and he dug into his food. Gia stared at her salad. Her stomach roiled too much to take a bite. She picked at the greens and plucked at the grilled chicken, thinking about tomorrow night. How long would it take him to wholly own her body and heart again? An hour, or could she actually manage to hold out an entire night?

“You’re not eating.”

“I had a late lunch,” she lied.

He set down his fork slowly. “Do you remember what I do to subs who aren’t honest with me?”

Orgasm deprivation—hours and hours of it. Her sex tightened. Heat crawled up her cheeks. Even on an olive-skinned Italian girl, the blush would be impossible to miss.

“I see that you do.” Jason looked satisfied. “The sensual torture last time will seem minor compared to what I’ll do tomorrow night if you don’t tell me the truth now.”

Gia gritted her teeth. Until tonight, they’d never even had an argument. She’d just willingly fallen under his spell and into his embrace. Trying to resist Jason now was as futile as it was arousing.

“All right, then. I was nervous when I walked in and now I’m sick to my stomach that I let you buy me, even for a few weeks.”

With a cynical curl of his lips, he lifted his beer and toasted her. “Everyone has their price, Gia. I just found yours.”

Gia tried to breathe through her nerves as she arrived at Jason’s condo the next night. The mountain of lies she’d told her family still scalded her with shame. They wouldn’t understand. Mila would tell her not to compromise herself. Her parents would be disappointed that she’d sold her morals and her body, even briefly. Her brother, if he’d been here, would have gone after Jason with cocked fists and a loaded semiautomatic.

Fabricating excuses had been far better for everyone.

As she stepped off the glass elevator that gave her aerial views of the city stretching on forever, she crept into a foyer with a water feature cascading down a glass wall. His door stood to the left. Gripping her suitcase in her hand, she glanced at her phone. Three minutes until six. One hundred eighty seconds to decide how the hell she was going to leave in eighteen days with her sanity and her heart intact. Of course, she’d had nearly twenty-four hours to ruminate on that problem. She’d come up with absolutely nothing.

Gia focused on his imposing black wood and wrought iron door, but couldn’t make her feet move. Her belly clamped. Her heart stuttered. She tried to convince herself that she could handle this, but the mental pep talk wasn’t working.

To her shock, the door opened suddenly, and Jason stood there in jeans, a long-sleeved jersey knit top in midnight blue, bare feet, and that triumphant hint of a smile she wanted to slap off his face.

“You’re on time. Very good.” He stepped back to admit her. As she entered with leaden legs, he glanced at her suitcase that had seen better days. “Is that all you brought?”

Had he expected her to bring her whole closet? “You gave me the impression I wasn’t going to need many clothes.”

“You won’t.” He shut the door behind her and took her bag. “I don’t have many ground rules while you’re here. Anything you see in the kitchen you want, take it. Don’t leave the building without consulting me. I’ve got a heated pool on the deck outside our bedroom. There’s a full gym downstairs. You’re welcome to use either as you’d like. No work while you’re here, especially on your brother’s case. We’ll discuss any family emergencies together as they arise. When we’re sceneing, you will call me Mr. Denning. Is anything I’ve said confusing?”

“No.” She supposed that since she hadn’t seen or knelt for him in nearly a year, he no longer wanted her to call him Master. That was just fine. That slash of pain didn’t mean a damn thing.

To avoid staring at him, she eyed his personal space. The expanse of a two-story wall of windows was unbroken by a drape or blind. Then again, why bother? Who could peek in on them this high up?