Monster A Dark Arranged Marriage Romance - Vanessa Waltz Page 0,43

of meat. Especially to my father.”

Tony raked his dark locks, the sleeves riding up his muscled forearms.

“It’s just an act, Evie.”

I don’t care. “If you ever want in my pants, you’ll stop being an arrogant prick.”

“You sure you don’t enjoy my arrogant prick?”

This fucking man.

My contempt for him didn’t prevent his ruggedly handsome face from sending a flicker of heat through my chest. My gaze wandered over his wicked mouth, to the soul-deep eyes that flared with amber. He was so beautiful, so cruel and cunning, his body so strong.

I weakened around him.

I was curious about him.

Every moment with Tony unpeeled a darker layer, and I was desperate to uncover them all. He’d risked his life for me. He supported my business. Threatened my father to defend me. He’d done more for me than my own family, which was a bitter pill to swallow.

What was going on with him?

Tony swept past me to the kitchen, piling frozen peas on his purpled knuckles. A flicker of the insane adrenaline rush from earlier twinged my chest.

I approached him like an animal in the wild, not wanting to give him a reason to bolt, but Tony wasn’t in a hurry to leave. I reached inside his robe, palms gliding over his chest hair. I pressed down, over the broad panes of muscle. His eyes glazed over in a fog, but he didn’t pull away. His steady heartbeat bumped my skin.

“Did you mean what you said to my father?”

He raised his head, unblinking. “No half measures.”

“You’ll get yourself killed for a wife you don’t even want.”

“You’re mine.” He abandoned the ice to grasp my hand. A chill engulfed my swollen knuckles. “I’ll always protect what’s mine.”

A dark thrill rippled across my body at those untamed words.

I’d stopped craving the man.

I wanted the monster.

Fifteen

Tony

2 oz blended scotch

1/4 oz amaretto

How can I get rid of this feeling?

That was how my addiction started.

Smoke a joint, and the discomfort disappears. I didn’t take the easy way out anymore. I was committed to experiencing everything. The restrictions I placed on myself staved back the cravings. When someone cracked open a bottle of my favorite prosecco, I imposed an iron will on myself. I would not bend. I would never be that guy again. It was hard.

Fuck, I struggled. Some days were harder than others.

Today, my thoughts warred against me. They urged me to buy things I didn’t need for the agony clawing my chest.

Outside a 7-Eleven, a man wearing a hoodie pushed off the wall. His eyes lit up in vague recognition. He waved.

I floored the gas.

The Godfather. My mind seized on the amber drink. Two ounces blended scotch or bourbon. One-fourth ounce amaretto. Poured over ice.

I took random turns, diving into unfamiliar neighborhoods until what haunted me flashed past my window.

EVIE

Jesus Christ.

How did I get here?

No, really. How?

I laughed as I parked the car. My heart pounded as I pictured her inside the shop, toiling on another piece of jewelry. I felt alive.

Addicted.

Evie was the first spark of life since the night it’d been stolen from me. She was like those early months of taking heroin, when happiness sat in my lungs for hours, and I could find beauty in a still frame of a crowded bus stuck in rush hour traffic.

A tall man in a windbreaker strolled out of my wife’s store. Christian’s laser-like gaze scanned the road until it found me like a bull’s-eye. He walked across the street, hood drawn up under the smattering of rain. A bemused grin touched his lips as he leaned on my car and tapped the glass.

I unrolled the window.

He peeked in, shouting over the storm. “You could walk in there instead of acting like a cliché in an eighties romantic comedy.”

“Fuck you.”

“You’re like the guy who stalks the girl he’s interested in.” Christian chuckled as he reached for a cigarette, cupping his hands around the lighter. “Except this is extra weird because you’re married to her. You have problems, T.”

I gave him a black look. “You’re watching another man’s wife. We’ve all got issues.”

“Yeah, but this is on a new level.”

“You talk too much.”

“You ignore your wife.” His expression turned pitying as he blew smoke from the corner of his mouth. “Anthony, go to her. What are you doing outside?”

“Being around Evie is like doing heroin ‘only on the weekends.’”

“Right. There’s a word for that.”

Christian’s knowing smile stirred my chest.

I knew what he was getting at. She provoked dangerous impulses inside me. They had put a man in the