God of War: Chapter 13

I have come to the grim conclusion that my wife has the destructive energy of a world war and the emotional IQ of a plastic flower.

And while I pride myself in being a man in control concerning all the happenings in my life—emotions and future plans included—I have inevitably hit a jarring obstacle in the form of a pink chiffon skirt and a cream crop top.

“What are you wearing?” I grit my teeth as I stroll into my kitchen and glare at the material hugging her round, perky nipples and stopping right above her exposed belly button.

“Burberry.” Ava doesn’t even lift her head, choosing to pretend to be fascinated with Sam’s crochet work.

My ex-nanny gathers her unrecognizable work and trudges out of the kitchen to avoid our usual bickering.

“Go change. You’re not walking around with unfinished clothes amongst the staff.”

“Hmm. Let me think about it.” She taps a perfectly manicured finger to her lips. “I’ll go with no.”

I grab the edge of her chair to keep from throttling the fuck out of her. My hand flexes and I count to ten.

A tactic that failed miserably a few days ago after she almost kissed that wannabe boy. If she’d actually placed her lips anywhere near his vicinity, he would’ve been decapitated on the spot Middle Ages style.

Though the question of his disappearance is a matter of when, not if. I have already extended my shadowy hands to his parents’ corporation and will axe him the moment he moves.

Ava stares back at me with a honeyed smile that’s more fake than her rubbish acting. My gaze flicks to her lips—full, glossy, and tempting. The image of them wrapping around my fingers, sucking my soul through them, flashes in my head.

They’ll look divine choking on my cock.

No.

There’s no more fantasizing about my wife’s lips and cunt. However, that’s proving to be challenging after I had a messy, enticing taste.

The only thing I’ve thought about since is how to shove her back against the nearest surface and reacquaint her body with mine. How to fuck every other man out of her.

And once those damning images formed in my head, it’s been impossible to purge them.

Despite fully recognizing that this could be a dangerous trigger.

“What did I say about picking your battles?” I speak so calmly, even I start to believe I’m completely unperturbed by this chaotic piece of a human being.

“One day. Not today. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll ask Sam to join me in the greenhouse. This place is rather suffocating due to a certain person.”

“You’re not going anywhere until you change, Ava.”

“Want to bet?”

“Want to test me?” I slide my hand from the chair to her bare shoulder.

Her dewy skin is electric to the touch, or maybe it’s because I want her, so much that it’s starting to mess with my equilibrium.

Not to mention, I’ve been suffering with all manner of blue balls since the day she rode and came apart on my fingers.

I close my hand around her nape underneath her hair and look down at her as she sucks in a stuttering breath.

My head lowers and I nibble on her earlobe until she shudders. Once she angles her head to the side, baring her delicate throat and pulse point, it’s physical torture not to feast on it.

And her.

Because there’s no way in fuck I’ll be able to keep myself in check once I start. It’s challenging enough to watch her walking around in skimpy clothes and tiny pajamas that I swear were made to taunt me.

“Do I need to remind you of what will happen when you misbehave, Mrs. King?”

She clutches her smoothie cup tighter, nails digging into it so harshly, I’m surprised it doesn’t break.

“Or are you doing this on purpose so I’ll use you again?”

This time, she elbows me in the side. Hard.

“Don’t flatter yourself. I have no interest in a redo of your subpar performance.”

“Your cunt that shattered all over my fingers would argue otherwise. In fact, if I reach beneath your skirt, I’ll find you dripping for me, wife.”

“You wish.” Her words are low, barely audible.

“Do you dare to bet?”

“Unless I can bet to keep you a few continents away from me, I’m not interested.”

The clearing of a throat prevents me from putting my wife in her place—or attempting to, however temporarily.

Sam has returned and she juts her head in the direction of Henderson, who’s at the entrance of the dining room.

I rise to my full height and button my jacket, but don’t release Ava. She doesn’t seem to loathe the contact either, or perhaps she forgot about my hand surrounding her nape.

“We have the post, sir.”

“And that’s important enough to interrupt me?” I don’t hide the venom in my tone.

Ava elbows me again. “Stop being a dick.”

And then she directs her sunshine smile to my assistant. “Thank you, Leo.”

“My pleasure, Mrs. King.”

“His name is Henderson,” I say.

“That’s his last name, and this isn’t the twentieth century,” she shoots back. “Besides, Leo is a cute nickname.”

He smiles a little, but it promptly disappears when I level him with a glare.

Perhaps it’s about time to act on my murder threats and bury the sorry sod where the sun doesn’t shine.

As if sensing my thoughts, Henderson places the letters on the table before me and retreats, probably to polish his casket.

Ava skims through them, placing mine and the house bills to the side, then flies through her subscription fashion and music magazines and mail from the dozens of orchestras of which she’s one of their top patrons.

The woman donates to orchestras as if they’re charities. Apparently, some of them are struggling and they wouldn’t be able to continue doing cheap shows for the general public without hefty donations from families like ours.

She pauses on a familiar envelope, then opens it carefully. Her eyes skim over the lines, and with every word she reads, they sparkle, turning glittery blue by the time she finishes.

Her lips fall open with a gasp. “Oh, my word.”

“Good news?” Sam asks when I remain quiet.

Partly because I read the letter over her shoulder.

“The best. I’ve been asked to play at an event organized by one of the arts foundation NGOs.”

“And you’ll do it? I thought charities were beneath your musical talent.”

She whips her head in my direction as if she just realized I’ve been there all along. The blasphemy of forgetting my existence. No one but this headache of a woman is able to do that.

Not only that, but she has the audacity to glare. “I never said that.”

“I thought it was a given with how snobbish you were about competitions.”

“You thought wrong. I’m lucky to be part of a cause. Besides, I only did the competitions to prove something.”

“Which is?”

“My ability to perform… Forget it. I don’t know why I’m talking to you about this.” She shrugs me away as she stands up, but her mood doesn’t seem dampened in the least. “I need to go practice and shop for a new dress! This is so exciting.”

She walks away with that gentle sway in her hips, then turns around. “Can I use the pink Mercedes? If you say no, I’ll use it anyway.”

“Since when do you ask for permission to use our cars?”

“Your cars.”

“Our.”

“There is no our.”

“I beg to differ.”

She narrows her eyes, but, apparently, she has no intention of ruining her mood, because she shakes her head. “Thanks.”

“My, and here I thought you were incapable of gratefulness.”

“Don’t make me regret it.”

I press my lips together to stop myself from laughing, but a smile must escape, because Ava stares at me as if I’m a curious world wonder.

One that solely exists wherever she is.

It’s a ridiculously meticulous obsession at this point, and the worst part is that I have no intention of altering anything.

“The driver will wait in the car,” I say. “I also called you some company for shopping, but she can also join you while you practice or whatever you fancy.”

She blinks twice and I see the innocence that provoked this entirely foreign part of me.

The part that’s made it my mission to steal her, cage her, and allow her no way out.

“Who’s the company? Not Mama and Papa, I hope?”

“Considering your father still goes into phases where he loves to chase me away with a knife, I’ll say no to that.”

She tips her head back and laughs, the joyful sound echoing around us like her favorite Bach music.

I’m enchanted, enthralled, absolutely rooted in place with nothing better to do than watch her smile at me genuinely for the first time in…six years.

Up until now, I’ve been the subject of either her glares or fake smiles. Never the reason behind her laughs and sunshiny personality.

“Is your father’s illogical hatred toward me so funny?”

“Well, he doesn’t trust your character, which I find nothing wrong with. I’m glad that at least one thing hasn’t changed.”

“Many things haven’t.”

“I suppose.” She shrugs. “So who’s the mysterious company you called for me?”

Henderson reappears, accompanied by a tall ginger girl, all legs and no curves, unlike my beautiful wife.

But then again, no other woman is comparable.

“I hope I’m not interrupting.” Bonneville pats down her knee-length dress that’s fit for Wimbledon or horse racing events.

Ava’s smile falters only for a bit before she hugs her. “Gem, what a lovely surprise. What are you doing here?”

“I was invited by Eli for some brunch.”

“You were, huh?” Ava stares between us with a mysterious glance I can’t decipher, but she’s been a fucking vault these past two years, so I’m lucky she’s even talking again.

“I gathered Ms. Bonneville would keep you company,” I say.

“Please, call me Gem, or Gemma,” she says with a toothy grin, and did Ava just roll her eyes?

“I’ll leave you to it.” I grab Ava by the waist and drop a kiss to her cheek, dangerously close to her parted lips. “Behave.”

“Only if you do,” she throws back with a venomous tone before she turns and walks to the stairs, or more like stomps.

A disgusting skeletal hand lands on my arm as Bonneville offers me a polite smile. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep an eye on her.”

“I don’t remember giving you such a task, Ms. Bonneville. Just be a good sport and entertain my wife to the best of your ability.”

“Yes…I mean, I understand.”

She’s a sheep, but she’s the only useful person in Ava’s ex-unorthodox friend group and she doesn’t hesitate to offer any form of information I ask for. She’s the reason I was able to effectively ruin all of my wife’s ex-love interests.

I’m well aware Bonneville is doing this because she’s hoping I’ll fuck her, but unfortunately for her and all other women, I’m only interested in my wife’s cunt. Doesn’t mean I won’t use her, though.

“Gem. You coming?” Ava stops in the middle of the stairs, and even though she called to her friend, her eyes throw daggers at me.

I suppose that smiling episode was a one-off.

Bonneville flashes me a grin before she reluctantly releases me and heads to my wife. She casts one last look at me and Ava’s glare turns so wild, I’m surprised no lasers come out.

“What’s wrong with her now?” I ask no one in particular after they disappear up the stairs.

“I must say, for someone so smart, you can be quite obtuse,” Sam says.

She was supposed to have stayed inside crocheting away, but she’s now standing by the door and shaking her head.

“Indeed,” Henderson agrees with a grim look.

I stare between them. “What’s this about?”

Sam sighs, turns around, and leaves.

“With all due respect, one simply does not invite a snake to their house and expect it not to bite them, sir.”

“Is this about Bonneville? She’s as harmless as a fly.”

His poker face remains in place, but I can sense the judgment licking my skin like acid. “At any rate, we’re ready to go.”

We walk together to the entrance and I roll my wedding ring. “Have you found out what Landon knows?”

“Not quite, but he does know something.”

“Which is?”

“I’m not positive yet, but I suspect he’s been kept in the loop about some happenings in this house.”

“Your and Sam’s necks are under the guillotine, so you wouldn’t be suicidal. Previous staff?”

“I’m afraid it’s more complicated than that.”

“Ariella?”

“I’d rather not throw around accusations without proof.”

I unbutton my jacket. “Leave Landon to me. I’ll take care of his silence.”

No one will know the extent I had to go to for Ava to be this way right now. Even if it’s not permanent and is bound to be shredded to pieces, I’m happy to prolong this phase as long as possible before she forgets me.

Again.

Maybe this time, it’ll be for good.