All Chapters of My Neighbour's Wife: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Mauro squints with his right eye, and when his eyes focus on Zefiro, he grins, teeth bloodied. His body shakes with violent fits of laughter as he fights against the binds around his hands and legs. “You always were a blood thirsty bastard, hiding behind that pretty face of yours.” Mauro looks around, as if searching for an escape. “But you never fooled me.” He refocuses on Zefiro and says something roughly in Italian that sounds like gibberish, but I stow the words away for later. “C'è un demonio dentro di te.” Zefiro cocks the gun. “I had you looked into.” A hand slips into the pocket of his pants and he retrieves pictures, tossing them in the air and Mauro watches with an expression akin to dread as they rain down on him. “Every twitch. Every transaction. I could forgive going against my orders—” “Your orders?!” Mauro spits with venom. “You lost your place as boss the moment you walked out on us for your stupid whore—” Zefiro’s bulky guard slams his fist into Mauro’s nose and I w

Susanna and I stare at each other until Rizzi leaves and we’re left completely alone. “I’m leaving,” she tells me, and for some reason, my heart pauses an entire beat. I notice then that she’s out of uniform, wearing black slacks, an oversized sweatshirt, a ridiculous black hat and ugly orange-pink running shoes. There’s a bag hanging across her chest and I wonder just what could fit into there. I stare and stare at her, hiding my traitorous shaking fingers behind my back. “You do not need my permission to leave. I never wanted you here in the first place.” She starts to speak, but I cut in as harshly as I can. “See yourself out, Mrs. Hawke, and never darken my door again.”Her eyes gutter and she turns sharply, heading for the door. I want to reach for her, but I don’t. This is good, I tell myself. This is best, I convince myself. In a few weeks, should my grandmother’s arrangement go acc

It is my engagement, but for some reason, she is more excited than I am. Twirling the wine in the glass, I watch her offer the guests a glass with a charming smile. She’s in uniform—black suit pants, white buttoned shirt, flats. It’d be skirts, but I ordered the skirts away. I can’t go around killing every man who sees her ass in them. Still… Where she walks, heads turn. She has no makeup or jewelry on, but she outshines every woman in the room. She could be modeling rags and still look stunning. “Sir?” My eyes reluctantly shift from the outline of her swinging hips to Adrianna’s glowering gaze. “Your fiancée is that way,” she speaks in Italian, inclining her head to the center of the room, where Valentina giggles, surrounded by a horde of drinking Italian wives and a couple of her friends from Korea. She’s a social butterfly, much unlike Priya. I bring the glass to my lips. “I see.” My gaze strays again, and Susanna’s accepting Giovann

I’ve been kissed many times before. By drunk men who salivated in my mouth and cut my lip. By pedophiles whose fantasies were to ruin a little girl in ways they could never ruin their wives. Or daughters. By Jaxon, who only kissed me after each whipping. I associate the action with pain, disgust. I despise it. Yet, my legs shake. It starts like roaring, turbulent waves. Like an avalanche, rumbling in fury and bringing everything down in its path. Zefiro’s kiss is hostile, angry, hateful even. Like he despises me but can’t stay away, and for that, he is punishing me. Hot. I feel hot in all the wrong places. The angry glide of his tongue against mine mimics the movement I’d like not to think of while he holds me, but I can’t help it. It’s hard not to think of how his tongue would feel against my folds. My core tightens and I clench, twice. Hell, no. I push Zefiro off. But I might as well have hit an immoveable wall. Struggling against him does not

Past Dressed in nothing but a robe, I walk down the stairs. I have been good for the past four months, and my reward is being let out of my room for long enough to take a dive in the pool. But even that grows old, and I yearn for something different. Something to break me from this unchanging hell I live in. I halt at the base of the stairs, my gaze drifting over to Jaxon on the couch. His head lifts and light blue eyes crinkle with a smile. My stomach flips twice as I beam. It makes me happy when he is pleased. It means he’ll listen to me when I talk. It means he won’t hit me. It means he’ll be gentle when he fucks me. “Work?” I nod towards the laptop sitting against his thighs. It’s been a year since he paid my stepmother off and bought me. One year since he aborted our child, thinking I had no knowledge of it. One year since he held a priest at gun point to officiate our wedding—not that he had to. I would have done anything to get away from Morwenna at that po