Monster A Dark Arranged Marriage Romance - Vanessa Waltz Page 0,26
she swiped open her cell, flicking through a gallery of stunning images. I made her enlarge them. I gaped at a man’s antique watch, studying the bright stone making the knob, the blue hands, the flawless leather.
Beautiful craftsmanship.
It was something I would’ve worn.
“I refurbished it,” she explained, flicking through photos. “Here’s a before and after picture.”
I couldn’t believe this. A war raged inside me. My mind refused to combine images of the woman in the leather apron with the biker girl I’d married. She’d blown me away.
“This is a seventy-thousand-dollar watch.”
Pink patches burned on her cheeks. “I’m glad you think so, but I’ll probably sell it for twenty-four thousand. You know, to cover my end of the bills.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I’m trying not to dip into your savings. I want to make my way in the world without leaning on my rich husband.”
“You live in my house. You eat my food. You just charged twenty grand on my credit card, hon.” I cupped her burning face and stroked her frown. “What part of you is independent?”
“The one that’s going to slap you.”
I grinned, removing my hand. “So I’m not allowed to buy your jewelry?”
She shook her head, and my chest prickled with heat.
I wanted that watch.
“I’m not an idiot, Tony.” She shoved the phone back in her pocket, sighing. “This is temporary.”
“I’m in no rush to set you free. Especially now that I know you’ll be a hit at cocktail parties. Have you any idea what the average mob wife is like?” I slid off the bench, strolling to another workstation with a giant drill. “High-maintenance, stupid, and useless for everything except fucking and breeding.”
“Yes, I’m sure that’s why you were unmarried for so long. Because they’re boring.”
She had a point.
I’d never married because I was constantly in a drug-induced psychosis. I had too much noise in my head. Drugs were the only thing that made it stop. Frankly, it was a miracle I didn’t stumble into a Vegas chapel with a showgirl.
I pushed a switch, and the drill screamed to life.
Tutting, Evie shut it off. “My workshop isn’t a playground. That’ll rip off your thumb if you’re not careful.”
I was itching to poke around. “I still can’t believe this. I thought you’d dropped twenty grand on a diamond.”
“I mean, not yet. Though diamonds are always my bestsellers.” Evie frowned at her ring, grimacing at the stone. “But they’re my least favorite gemstone.”
“In my defense, most women aren’t jewelry designers.”
“I made you a ring. I had it ready weeks in advance. I wanted to size it, but you never showed up to the meetings. You were an ass at the wedding, so I torched it and used the gold for something else.”
My jaw hardened.
Her gaze flicked at me. “You’re supposed to apologize now.”
“Nobody ever said sorry for making me what I am.”
“A rude jerk with no self-awareness?” She’d turned away from me, flaunting her perfect ass. “A sadistic, murdering, jaded rich boy with too much free time?”
“I’m not a boy. I’m a man. You should know that from when we were last together.”
I snagged her by the loops in her jeans and tugged her into my arms. She let out a gasp as her back hit my body. I fisted her hair and wrenched hard.
She yelped, her heartbeat hammering my palm. Crimson climbed up her neck as I traced her breast.
“What is with you?” she growled. “You don’t talk to me for days. Then you show up here, yapping about credit limits when you make a fortune every hour, and next thing I know you’re copping a feel.”
Yapping. She even made flapping motions with her hand to mimic a mouth.
I had to admire the sheer gall. “I have the right to be concerned about my wife’s money laundering scheme.”
Evie paled, saying nothing.
“Sorry, are you not laundering diamonds for Jett?”
Evie looked at me, her eyes large and liquid, two pools of misery.
Grim satisfaction seared my chest.
I was right, but I hated her tears and I loathed her father for forcing her into this position. No wonder he’d downplayed her business as a “hobby.”
“I’m not a criminal.”
“Of course not, sweetheart.” I kissed her temple, and she shuddered. “You’re a real artist when you’re not helping Daddy with his illicit deals.”
A blush ran like a shadow across her cheeks.
“What, no clever comeback?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Fine. I’ll comb through your financial records. Your tax returns. They’ll tell me everything.”