Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 26768 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 134(@200wpm)___ 107(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26768 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 134(@200wpm)___ 107(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
“Fuck!” I slam my hand down on the steering wheel. “Call her now!” Giulio hurries and dials her.
It rings and nearly goes to voicemail, but she answers before it does.
“Nico.”
“Emelia, fucking Rene. What in the hell are you doing in the rooms!” I scream into the phone, exiting the highway.
“What everyone else is here for. What you used to come here for.” She sounds so calm, yet I’m ready to burn that goddamn place to the ground.
“You are playing with fire, Emelia, get out of the room. Are you alone?” I take a sharp turn down the street of the club and she giggles.
“I guess you will have to see. See you soon, il mio re,” she purrs.
“Don’t you fucking hang up on me, Em—”
The call ends and I let out a string of profanities. The last time I felt genuine fear or an acid like feeling rising in my body was the day her father almost killed her. I read this all wrong. How long has Emelia been up to this? Has she lost her fucking mind.
Screeching to a halt, I barely put the SUV in park before I am out and running. I undo my jacket and reach in to pull my gun from its holster. I will not hesitate to put a bullet in the brain of anyone in that room and Emelia will watch it. How fucking dare she do this to me.
I forgo the elevator and take the stairs down two at a time. Throwing open the door, I point my gun at made men and anyone already there for happy hour. “Out! Get the fuck out!” I yell.
The women leave to the powder room and members all rush to follow my orders. Happy hour is limited to less than thirty people making their departures easy. They split elevators and stairs, all ready to get the hell away from the barrel of my gun and the devil wielding it.
“Which fucking one!” I find James and Farren standing in the hall.
“Room one, sir.” Farren points.
I throw that damn door open with my arm stretched and tightly gripping my glock. I look around and see no one but Emelia. She stands in the middle of the room with nothing on but there is no one else there. I turn and point that gun at Farren and James.
“Get the fuck out! Now!”
They never raised their heads after I opened it. I’m sure it was intentional, that way they wouldn’t get a glimpse at my wife’s body.
“Nico, put the gun down,” she whispers.
My back stiffens, still turned away from her. I tilt my chin side to side, cracking the air out of my joints.
“Put the fucking gun down?” I snarl. I turn, and her eyes are wide. Good, she knows she fucked up.
“Nico, why are you so upset? I am here for you.” She is shaking violently.
I haven’t ever been this upset with my wife. These rooms are made for clients to watch and some to touch and fuck and my wife wants to know why I am upset?
“You are in my club, in a room where any goddamn member could come in and watch you! Could fucking touch you!” I pivot my outstretched arm to the side, and I shoot the mirror. The loud noise has her covering her ears and crouching down.
“Nico!”
“Not a damn word. Get your ass dressed! Now! We are going home, and I will handle the rest then.”
“No!” She stands, now thrusting her chest out and straightening her shoulders.
“Emelia,” I challenge her.
“You heard me. You come in here literally guns blazing and you’re angry at me because I wanted to explore this place with you! Because I wanted to try out new things. What? Maybe you’re the one who is pulling away from us!”
With that, she leans down, grabs her slip-on dress and marches out. Thank God no one is there as she makes her way to the powder room. I follow her.
“Principessa, I didn’t—” Fuck, I read this all wrong.
“No! Do not follow me in here where there are dozens of naked women that you have fucked. Unless that’s what you are wanting to see.” Her eyes well with tears and all the rage drains from my body and it’s replaced with heartbreak. The other night and every second sense, I have worried that maybe I am not enough for my wife, or thought she has grown tired of me, but here she is, stating something that isn’t even remotely fucking true.
“Emelia,” I plea and she shakes her head, opening the door and leaving me there standing. I curse and start pacing the hall, waiting for her to come out. Ten minutes later, she comes out dressed in her silk slip dress. It’s meant for day wear but it somehow looks erotic and enticing on her generous curves.