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Row and our other friend Rhy claimed Gia resembled Nara Smith, but the truth was she defied category. I didn’t think there was another human attractive enough to compare her to. If God existed, which I seriously doubted as a secular modernist, he must’ve spent extra time on the smallest detail in creating her, because every inch of her was pure perfection.
If I couldn’t have her, no one else could. And I wanted her. Oh yes. Her body anyway.
“What’s wrong with morals?” I wrinkled my nose. Tate looked up, eyes as dead as the useless heart in his chest. “I wouldn’t know. Haven’t got any.”
“You, as in you become my wife. You wear my ring. You live under my roof. You take my name. You suck my cock.”
“Well, I’m so bloody touched.” I put a hand to my rib cage. “That you’re altruistic enough to offer I become your whor—” “Stop right there.” He raised his palm. “Nobody gets to call my future wife a slut other than me.”
“One, this is exclusive. You dump your little boyfriend as soon as you walk out of here. Two, you act like you don’t detest me in public. Three, do not hire anyone to assassinate me. If you want to kill me, do it yourself.”
“Did you spit in it?” “No.” I waited for him to take a sip before adding, “So if it tastes different, that’s why.”
“You can wear whatever you want,” he cut me off. “What will happen to men who stare at you as a result is on your conscience, though.”
“You’re making a grave mistake, Apricity.” “Apricity?” I whipped my head his way. “The warmth of the sun in winter.”
“As you wish.” I slammed my teeth over the tip of his thumb, desperate to hurt him back. Tate grinned, placing his thumb in his mouth and sucking off the little blood I drew. “Now that’s a good girl.”
Her makeup was dewy and soft. She always looked like she spent her nights sleeping inside rose petals.
She froze, every muscle in her body stiffening. I did not like scaring her. The realization slammed into me like a freight train.
“I will chase you to the end of the earth and beyond. No force in the world can keep me from you. I have earned your company fairly. The sooner you accept there is no way out of this arrangement, the better.”
“Just because I wasn’t whole didn’t mean I wasn’t enough.”
“It reads My Husband Is a Knobhead across the empennage.” A long silence strained between us before I let loose a joyous burst of laughter. It was, to my knowledge, the first time I laughed in my entire life. I was not a laugher. I was barely a smirker.
Clearly, I’d fallen down the Stockholm syndrome rabbit hole. Yay me.
“Jesus, Tate.” Gia scrambled up to a sitting position behind me. “What are you doing?” “Throwing him out the window.” “The window’s not even open!” “That’s the best part.”
I counted crystal raindrops on the chandelier. Three hundred and seven. Odd number. How could they?
“Listen to me carefully, Gia. I am yours. All of me belongs to you. My body—yours. Brain—yours. Money—yours. Kingdom—yours. Every inch. Every cell. Every atom. Every single breath has your name on it.” “And your heart?” Her voice came out scratchy and thick, eyes glittering with tears. “Is it mine too?” “Oh, Apricity.” I plastered my forehead to hers, gathering her into my arms. “If I had a heart to give, it would be yours. Without question.”
I have a cocktail of disorders that’d make Jeffrey Dahmer get FOMO.
She laced her fingers through mine and started tapping her index finger over the back of my hand in a familiar pattern. Two, six, two. Two, six, two. Two, six, two. A jolt of panic rushed through my spine, followed by immediate orgasmic relief. She knows. She understands. She cooperates. She soothes.
