Chapter 18: Chapter 18
GISELLE
"You can call your boss, and tell him I want to leave the house," I said to the adamant guard, who didn't even spare me a glance. "Hello? I'm talking to you. You do realize I'm your boss's wife, right? I could have you fired," I threatened.
He said nothing. He didn't even blink at my threat.
I glared at the man. "You know, I was joking when I said I'd have you fired, but I mean it this time around. You're fired. You hear me?"
I huffed, slamming the front door shut. All of this was happening because Nicholas was MIA again. This was the fifth day that I had not laid eyes on him, but that was beside the point.
It had been a long time since I picked up a paintbrush, and my palms itched to get back to work, bringing my inspirations and thoughts to life.
Painting was the only time I was at peace with myself, and it provided me with the escape I needed. Memories of Gianna taunted me every day, and I felt like I was going to burst if I didn't let them out.
Even if I wanted to call Nicholas so he could talk to his men, I didn't have his number or any of his family's numbers.
Sara!
I reached for my phone in my pocket, dialing her number. "Hey, Sara!" I said when she picked.
"Elle, is anything wrong?" She sounded worried.
"No, not at all. This is going to sound weird, but I wanted to know if you have Nicholas's phone number." It was embarrassing to ask her for his number when we were married to each other, but then again, I had to remind myself this wasn't a normal relationship. We didn't get married to each other after a few dates. This was all arranged.
"Oh." Sara sounded surprised. "I do have his number."
"Great. Can you send it to me?"
"Sure."
"Thank you." I hung up, and less than a minute later, I had Nicholas's phone number and a lot to get off my chest.
***
I slid my shades down my eyes, cocking a brow at Nicholas, who stood over me, a stern glare on his face.
"Look who's done throwing a tantrum like a little bitch, and is back at his house," I said with a smile that didn't match the venom in my tone.
"How did you get my number?"
That was his first question after ghosting me for days.
I scoffed. "If you think I'm going to nag you like a wife for coming late, then forget it. I don't care. I deleted your number already, in case you were wondering."
"I wasn't."
"Well, there you have it. It's gone. You should never leave an unwelcomed woman alone in your house. She snoops when she has nothing to do, and she found a gun that she's going to use to shoot your guards if they stop her from going out next time."
I was bluffing, but he didn't have to know that. I snapped the book I was reading shut, placing it down on the sun lounger beside me before rising to my feet.
I tightened the shawl around my arms. It was a full moon tonight, and there was a slight chill in the air. I contemplated making myself some hot chocolate before I went to bed.
"And where do you think you're going?" Nicholas growled, wrapping his hand around my ponytail before yanking me back.
I hissed at the instant pain that pricked my scalp, glaring up at him.
"What did I say about disrespecting me?" He asked, his tone lethal.
"I don't know who made you believe otherwise, but you're not a god, Nicholas. You can go fuck yourself. If you felt disrespected, it's because I meant to sound like that. Maybe next time don't ghost your wife if you don't want her to angry-text you."
"What did I say about disrespecting me?" He repeated, tightening his grip on my hair to the point of pain.
His eyes were silver pools of contained rage, chilling me to the bone. Okay, speaking my mind in a text was a bad idea. He didn't look amused, even by a fraction.
"You said you wouldn't take it lightly," I replied, my voice shaky.
"So, what made you think you could call me a little bitch? Where did the backbone come from, dolcezza?"
I shrugged, the sass returning. "Bought it while I was out of the country. It wasn't cheap, in case you want to reimburse me."
"I do remember promising to punish you if you ever disrespected me." His eyes held a dark promise. "Any two cents you'd like to add?"
I gulped hard, my breaths coming out in short pants. "Treat me the way you want to be treated, Nicholas. It's that easy. If you ghost me, don't be mad when you get an angry wife."
His smirk turned cruel as he grabbed the shawl around my shoulder. "I thought as much."
He tugged me over to the flat lounger, lowering himself on the chair before holding me between his legs, my back facing him.
I tensed when he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of my sweatpants, tugging the piece of clothing down until it fell to the floor around my feet.
"W-what are you doing?" I stammered as the cool breeze brushed my ass.
"Punishing you," he replied, his fingers brushing over my ass cheeks. He slid back on the lounger before pulling me down, so I was straddling the lounger like he was.
"Punishing me?" I repeated.
He pressed down on my back so I laid my upper half flat on the lounger. "Yes, Giselle. I'm punishing you. Now lean forward."
I didn't question his order. I just leaned forward, placing my hand on the floor. "Like this?" I asked, looking at him over my shoulder.
"Yes." He splayed his hand on my lower back. His other hand pulled my legs up, placing them on the lounger next to his hips. "Why don't you repeat what you said over the text?"
I licked my dry lips, shivering under his dark stare. "I don't remember."
"Well, we can't have that, can we?" He jostled me on his lap as he reached into his pocket.
Two things happened at once. He got his phone out of his pocket, and his hardened cock hit my clit through the flimsy material of my thong. I couldn't help it. I moaned.
He squeezed my left ass cheek hard. "This isn't for your enjoyment, Giselle." He handed me his phone with the text I sent him pulled up. "Read out the texts."
My eyes scanned over the text messages, starting from the one at the top. "Some grown-ass man…"
I gasped as he dealt a slap to the side of my ass, jolting my body forward.
"I interrupted you, wife. Go on," he urged, rubbing the sting from my ass.
"Some grown-ass man you are. You keep running from your own house."
He spanked me again on that same spot, harder this time around, but he didn't rub the sting away.
"There's more, Giselle. Continue."
"If you're going to run away like a little boy every time you come close to me, maybe don't touch me." Spank. "What will your soldiers say…" Spank. "...when they find out their boss is a little bitch who can't handle touching his wife…" Spank. "...so he has to run from her?"
I wasn't wrong when I typed that. I thought nothing of his absence at first, until I remembered the first time he did the same thing.
He'd touched me, and I'd felt his hardened cock pressed against me. He left, and I didn't see or hear from him for three days. Granted, he allegedly had work to deal with.
This time, I asked why he sniffed my hair and neck, and he shut down. He left for five days, and my text triggered him, so he came back home.
It didn't take a rocket scientist to put two and two together. He was sexually attracted to me, but his love for Gianna would always be above all else. He thought I killed her, and wanting his lover's killer was the lowest of the low for him.
I would feel the same if I were in his shoes. I still felt like a horrible person for looking at him as a potential sexual partner rather than my sister's ex.
"I'm incapable of handling my wife, no?" He asked, his hand hovering over my wet crotch.
I didn't know I was into pain until he spanked me. It was my first time getting spanked by a man, and I found myself wanting more. No doubt both my ass cheeks were red from the slaps. He alternated between both of them, slapping until my skin heated.
I moaned after one of his slaps hit my pussy, the obscene sound of it turning me on. Seeing my reaction to it, he did it again and again until I was whimpering in pleasure.
"Tell me, Giselle, does this look like I'm incapable of handling my wife?" He brushed his knuckles against my pussy, forcing me to bite back my moan so he didn't know I was enjoying this. He was sadistic enough to stop touching me if he found out. "Answer me."
"No," I whimpered, my voice barely audible.
He was more than capable of handling any woman he wanted - me included. He knew that, too, so my text must have felt like a come-on to him.
"I didn't get that, Giselle, but I don't need to. Your pussy speaks for itself," he taunted, and the next thing I heard was my thong getting torn off by him.
Weekly Power Status
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