Monster A Dark Arranged Marriage Romance - Vanessa Waltz Page 0,16

in my arm deepening. “This is for the brothers and Ghost. Not for you. Go to your husband and stay there.”

I stalked away from him, rebellion raging in my heart. As I headed into the brick building, my head pounded. I stomped past the ebony booths and the bar glistening with the glass bottles. Then I turned into the dorms echoing with female moans and harsher, male grunts.

Gritting my teeth, I strode into my jeweler’s studio. It was the only reason I came here. My storefront needed renovations before I installed my equipment. I couldn’t fit it into Tony’s penthouse.

I dressed in an apron before I sat on the watchmaker’s bench. I pulled on my welding goggles and a dust mask, then turned on the ventilation hood.

Metal winked from the shelf. I grabbed the wedding band I’d made for Tony, long before I realized he’d eat me alive, and dropped it into the crucible. I grabbed my blowtorch, blasting the fucker. A yellow flame haloed the circle, dissolving the jewelry into liquid. Gold poured out the spout, and the wheel turned, spinning the liquid into the mold. When it stopped, I seized the flask with tongs and quenched it.

Bubbles hissed as I submerged the flask. The water clouded, and then I broke apart the wax, revealing the clasp. I fished it out and dumped it into the magnetic bowl, which spun and spun.

I’d been refurbishing a busted Cartier watch for weeks—stripped everything but the leather, which needed treatment but was otherwise in excellent condition. I’d removed the hands and replaced them with blue stainless steel. All I had to do was fit the sapphire cabochon into the knob, and then I’d have a twenty-four-thousand-dollar product. Plenty of money to pay off my loans.

I dried the freshly cast gold and placed it on my bench. I took off the goggles and dust mask, and then I flipped off the ventilation.

My senses tingled with awareness.

“You’re hard to get alone.”

I glared at my unwelcome visitor. “That’s because I don’t want to see you.”

Ghost stood at the door, arms folded. His mussed hair stuck up in all directions. For a man who’d just had sex, he looked sour. Most guys knew to stay away from me, but Ghost didn’t share the same instincts for life preservation. Months ago, he’d shoved his tongue down my throat while on guard duty.

I’d slapped him.

Since then, he’d been after me. I’d let him chase me because it was nice to be pursued. I just wanted to be good enough for someone. Apparently, that wasn’t Ghost. He’d never asked my father permission to date me.

Ghost’s smooth lips tugged into a mocking grin.

“Still mad at me?”

I slid the blowtorch off the watchmaker’s bench and fingered the trigger. “Come any closer, and you’ll find out how much.”

Ghost’s brow rose. His tall figure turned, heading toward me.

“You know your jealousy is a turn-on, right?” Ghost stopped an inch away, dropping his voice. “How wet are you for me, baby?”

“Drier than Death Valley.”

“Savage.”

I wasn’t kidding. Nothing about him appealed to me, not even the leather stretched over his muscled chest.

“I can do worse.”

“Lay it on me, babe.”

“You smell like cheap perfume and sex. You’re gross.”

He wrestled the blowtorch from me and jabbed it under my jaw. “What’d you call me?”

“You want another adjective? Disgusting.”

“I’ll burn your fucking mouth off.”

I rolled my eyes.

Ghost was on the mild end of the violence spectrum. Guys like him needed to posture. He was probably annoyed I hadn’t begged for his cock. My nails bit into my fists as he pressed the nozzle into my throat.

I struggled against his vise grip. “Get off.”

His palm glided to my waist and slipped down my ass.

“I said, quit!”

I shoved him.

He relented, smirking. He tossed the blowtorch on my desk, sneering as his gaze fell on my tools. “Costa make you give up this shit?”

“Nope.”

“Well, it’s only a matter of time. That guy wants a house mouse, not a businesswoman.”

I grabbed the Cartier watch and the sheets of metal, shoving them in my bag. “Are you speaking for yourself?”

Ghost winked at me.

I had no idea what Tony wanted, but Ghost was probably right. Men never took my work seriously. My father disparaged my silly “hobby,” never mind that fine jewelry was a multibillion-dollar industry and with the materials, I could easily rake in a six-figure income. I’d floated the idea of supporting us more than once. Dad freaked out at the mere suggestion. His ego couldn’t handle me providing for us, and