I cross my arms and stare her down, curious what’s going on in my wife’s head.

My. Wife.

Kit Bishop…is my wife.

I’m her husband.

Spin it however you want, it won’t make it any less true.

Just like trying to ignore the possessive feeling that blazes like a hellfire whenever I look at her now, doesn’t make it any less real.

Because it’s there, and it’s potent. And every time those sad hazel eyes peer up at me…it grows.

We’ve only been married twenty minutes and already I have a deep-seated urge to pummel anyone who dares to look at her the wrong way. A cardinal need to tuck her to my side and protect her from all the assholes in the world. Myself included.  

A scoff pushes through my lips. Who am I kidding? I’ve felt the same way about her since the night on the bridge. A fake marriage doesn’t change that.

It just gives those pesky fuckers called feelings a valid claim.

My blood quickens as I contemplate taping a neon sign to her ass that reads: Property of Preston Holden. Don’t Touch. Violators will get bitch slapped with my dick.

Fuck, this girl drives me insane.

Not that I regret marrying her…I don’t. Or rather, I don’t regret not letting anyone else marry her. Especially some over-excited cabdriver she’s never met before today. For all she knows, the bastard would have married her, taken all her money, and then killed her.

But Kit doesn’t think about those things; she chooses to see the best in everyone. Even the people she shouldn’t…like her new husband.

Three years later and the girl still wears her ethereal heart on her sleeve.

Chalk it up to another one of her annoying traits that equally entices and pisses me the fuck off.

Kit squirms in her seat and it’s all I can do not to grin. Long periods of silence make her uneasy. Particularly when I’m staring her down, quietly scrutinizing. She thinks I do it to get a rise out of her. I do it because I find her utterly fascinating.

I’m also quite fond of getting under that delicate skin of hers.

She fidgets, a tell-tale sign she’s going to start babbling. As if on cue, she opens her mouth. “That came out wrong. What I meant was…I think we both misjudged one another. We were both hurt by Becca and I think we inadvertently put some of the blame on each other instead of where it belonged. But now that she’s not around and can’t come between us, maybe we can start over and be friends.” She gives me a smile that’s so damn hopeful and sweet it makes my teeth ache. “For real this time.”

I sharpen my gaze. “No.”

Her smile crumbles like an avalanche and I hate myself for causing such an abomination.

“Right.” She turns her body away from me, looking out the window. “Should have seen that coming.”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to say something to ease the sting, but her phone rings.

It’s just as well.

I don’t want her to make excuses or delude herself into thinking that I turned into some kind of saint all because I stepped up to the plate and agreed to help her out of a tight spot.

My reasons for marrying her aren’t as noble or as selfish as she thinks they are.

Life’s full of tough choices…but you don’t always get to make the choice. Sometimes life makes it for you.

“You gonna answer that thing?” I grunt when it rings for the second time.

My impatience quickly turns to concern when I see the uncertainty on her face.  

“It’s Breslin.” She looks down at her phone. “I don’t know how she’s going to react to hearing the news that her best friend got married in Vegas—”

Thinking quick, I snatch the phone from her and throw it out the window of the taxi.

“What the actual fuck, dude?” Kit yells, diving for it a second too late.

I place one hand on her back and the other around her arm, holding her in place over my lap. “You shouldn’t be worrying about her reaction, you should be worrying about mine. You gave me your word, remember?”

Turmoil lines her face. “I said I wouldn’t tell Asher where you were, but Breslin’s my best friend. I can’t not tell her what’s going on.” Her eyes turn hard. “I don’t want to lie to her or screw up our friendship again. I don’t want to lose her.”

I can feel myself cave, because even though I’m not fond of my brother’s girlfriend, I know how important Kit and Breslin are to each other.

That said—there’s no way Breslin won’t tell Asher…and there’s no way my brother won’t bulldoze his way into my life. The fucker is as relentless as I am when it comes to getting what he wants.

Unfortunately for Asher, what I want is to not see or talk to him. I don’t need his judgments. I don’t need him to clean up my messes and then tell me how disappointed he is.

I don’t need him to stir up those old feelings of how my ultimate achievement in life will be living in the shadow of him and our father’s greatness. And I most certainly don’t need the reminder of everything I’m fighting like hell to forget.

I’d rather remember my brother the way he used to be—someone I cared about and had respect for—than watch him resurrect our father’s ghost and let his legacy live on.

Seeing him now will undoubtedly stir things, and if he makes the mistake of pushing me too far…he’ll end up getting caught in the crossfire of my wrath.

A wrath that stews in my subconscious like a volcano that could go off at any minute. A tempestuous need for revenge that makes my skin crawl just as much as my memories do.

Spencer Holden got the last laugh when he ended up dying before I could destroy him. And every day since then, I’ve woken up with the taste for vengeance.

But if I give into it, Asher’s career will be ruined…and unlike his last scandal, he won’t be able to recover from this.

Instead of sports reporters and fans referring to him as the talented son of a football legend. Or the guy with the killer arm who likes dudes. He’ll be the son of a sick pedophile. No one in the industry will want to go near him ever again.

It’s why Asher never went public with what I overheard him tell the police at the hospital regarding Kyle and our father.

Why he made a very sizable donation to the police department after the shooting happened and he inherited his will.

Asher paid them off with our father’s money because he wants those secrets to stay buried.

He paid them for their silence in order to save his reputation.

Just like our father did to me.

On instinct, my body locks up and my muscles clench. It’s best for everyone that I keep my distance…keep those skeletons confined.

“Preston,” Kit whispers, bringing me out of my thoughts.

Her eyes are wide with panic when I look at her. Like she knows the small thread keeping me together is a second away from snapping.

Like she can see my demons.

I release my grip so swiftly she nearly faceplants. “I don’t care about your little ya-ya sisterhood. A deal is a deal.”

She edges away, righting herself. “I know, but I can’t—”

“You have to.”

She juts her chin out. “And if I don’t?”

In one fell swoop, I grab her arms and haul her back on my lap, giving her no choice but to pay attention. And straddle me.

My dick twitches his approval of the current seating arrangement.

Kit, however, doesn’t. She tries to wiggle away, but I don’t let her. “If you don’t quit acting like a Neanderthal, I’m going to introduce your nuts to a cactus while you’re sleeping.”

“We can discuss what you want to do to my nuts later, my blushing bride.” She cringes, and I leer at her. “Right now, I’d prefer to talk about how I’ll divorce your ass so quick your pretty head will spin if you break your promise.”

Genuine hurt crosses her features. “You’d do that to me?”

“No.” Relief flashes across her face and I run my nose along her throat, inhaling that fruity scent of hers I can’t get enough of. “I’d do something much worse.” She tenses and my teeth graze the spot where her pulse is beating rapidly. “Like take every cent of your parents’ money and leave you with nothing.” I suck her skin into my mouth, intentionally marring her flesh. “That’s how important it is to me that you keep your word.”

I can feel the anger coursing through her limbs and I soothe the tender spot with my tongue. “I don’t want to hurt you or break your trust, Kit. But you’ll leave me no choice if you break mine first.” I cup her face in my hands, forcing her to look at me. “Please don’t do that to me, angry girl. I can take betrayal from everyone else in my life…but not you.”

Whatever she sees in my expression causes hers to soften. “I won’t tell them we’re married or that you live in Vegas. I won’t ever betray you.”

“Thank—” White hot lust surges when she shifts, and her knee brushes my cock. “Kit.”

She leans in close, her dainty fingers skimming my throat. “But if you ever use my parents or their money to threaten me again…”

I snatch her wrist when she starts to squeeze.

Unfortunately, it distracts me enough that I fail to deflect the knee she pulls back and slingshots into my sac. “I will shove a stake right through that cold heart of yours and watch you bleed out.”

She hops off my lap and I clutch my throbbing balls. “Duly noted.”

Moments later we pull up to the motel and I instruct the driver to go around back. Then I reach into my pocket and pull out a burner phone.

Kit makes a face. “I didn’t know you had a phone.”

“I don’t.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Then what do you call that?”

I bring it to my ear. “A secret that’s none of your business.”

She scowls and it’s all I can do not to tug that plump lower lip into my mouth. Instead, I give her necklace a little tug. “I’m calling Max. I don’t want you going inside in case Campanelli shows up.” I jerk my head toward the driver. “But I also don’t want him to run off with my wealthy bride. I’ll be able to keep a better eye on you if Max meets me out here to talk.”

“If that’s the case, why don’t you just tell Max what’s going on over the phone?”

Angling my body toward her, I intentionally crowd her space. Perchance she’ll understand how annoying it is to have someone poking their head in where it doesn’t belong. “Because I don’t want you to hear what we’re talking about. It’s a private matter. Business stuff.”

She starts to rebuttal, but Max picks up after the third ring. “Who’s this?”  

“It’s me. I need you to meet me out back.”

“Is this a setup?”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “You think I’d be in a position to tell you if it was?”

“Shit, I knew that little pink-haired hottie was trouble. Should have known she was lying about being your wife.”

I look at Kit, but she averts her gaze. “How do you know—”

“Give me a minute,” he yells, cutting me off. “Gotta go get my gun.”

“No,” I say, not only because I don’t want him falsely pointing it at Kit, but there’s no doubt in my mind he’s going to want to use it on me once I tell him I’m leaving. “This isn’t a set—”

The line goes dead. Perfect. Just the state of mind I want him in before I ask him to do me the biggest favor of my life.