Introduction
Of fathers making arrangements with someone else to marry off their daughters. There was a time when such a practice was quite common.
I always knew I wasn't going to get married unless that man proved to me that he was the one. I thought I found him once, I got my heart broken in the worst way.
I was alone for a while keeping cupid's arrows away from me and my heart.
One bad day I met a man who needed a wife, and I needed money.
It sounds bad, I know. But there are things that need money and I didn't have any at the time.
It was something important that I promised myself to do when I could, and worked hard to get it, but it was never enough.
I thought a cupid appeared far away. The idiot was always around, just silently.
He shot his arrows and hit me right in the heart, then laughed at me as he found me alone again.
Cupid was evil, and he liked human suffering. More so that of unrequited love.
Chapter 1
His fingers gripped my hips as I moved on top of him. My breasts bounced slightly, and he enjoyed that, feeling his lips on my left nipple, eliciting moans from my mouth.
"Just like that," I whispered in his ear, nibbling on it while enjoying his caresses. "I think..."
He didn't let me finish. He detached himself from my breasts and moved to my mouth, which I eagerly received with the same ferocity and passion of the moment.
The scent of his cologne mixed with his sweat intoxicated me, almost as much as his gasps and bites.
This man was my downfall.
But when sex is good, a lot of stupid thoughts come to mind, and that was one of them.
"You drive me crazy," he growled into my mouth.
His right hand spanked my buttock, delivering a moderately strong but exciting blow to my aroused self. I let out a moan on his lips, causing a mischievous smile to form on them.
I sighed as I felt my walls tighten and my toes curl, pressing my forehead against his, simultaneously relaxed and exhausted. I exhaled as I felt the tips of his fingers caressing my spine after reaching paradise together.
"You have to sign," I reminded him.
I heard him grumble against my shoulder after nibbling and kissing that area. I licked my lips, closing my eyes.
Why the hell do I have to annoy him so much with this issue? My signature is already on the paper, it's been a year and four months, damn it.
His lawyer took care of this!
I shouldn't even be here, but when I received Harold's call saying he doesn't want to sign, I let myself be carried away by my impulses.
Even though I don't want to, I get up, feeling the wetness between my legs, and his lips' caresses still tangible on my skin.
I still feel his kisses and his uneven breath on my neck. I still feel everything about him.
And that shit makes it harder, and it shouldn't be because we both want it.
I adjust my skirt and sweater, as well as my hair and bra. I hear the sound of his belt buckle and the zipper closing. I take a deep breath before raising my face.
Sometimes I forget the power those eyes have over me.
I promised not to get burned, yet after two months, I was already ashes.
And I think that was more the reason why I needed the divorce. I couldn't keep pretending that I loved him in front of the cameras, I couldn't because it's all true.
I love him, but we can't love each other.
"Michelle," I shake my head.
"No," I stop him with a weary tone. "Don't pretend to be tired of this because I'm the tired one. Do you want me to beg you to sign those damn papers you imposed? What do you want?
I press a finger where my signature is, and he looks down, his entire body tensing under the suit that was previously wrinkle-free.
He looks up with anger in his eyes.
"You signed it," he states the obvious.
"That was the deal," I mention.
Maintaining the composure that doesn't characterize me. I won't let my desire to be with him cloud what I truly need. Yes, what I need. Because what I want was never up for discussion.
"And what just happened, what the fuck was that?" he seeks an excuse.
I shrug, pretending to downplay it.
"Take it as a farewell."
"A farewell," he repeats, laughing. I tighten my fists as I feel a tingling in my abdomen. "Then we'll have many farewells because I'm not signing anything.
I tried to stay calm, you know it, I know it. But I failed.
"You're an asshole."
"Thanks, I'll tell my mother."
He winked, and I growled at his playful tone. This is not a joke. I need that divorce now.
I've spent four months trying to get this bastard to sign a damn thing he imposed in the contract. His lawyer called me with the news that the fucking bastard doesn't want to sign. He asked me to try to convince him, but it didn't work out.
He refuses to do it.
"Why the hell don't you want to sign?"
He abruptly stands up, and in record time, he's in front of me, his gaze hard and vengeful, the same one he uses to destroy his enemies.
A look that, far from making me nervous, brings out what shouldn't come out right now. Desire.
A pure, burning, and strong desire like him.
"Because I don't feel like it."
"Do whatever you want," I inform him, not giving a damn about this argument. "I've already signed, I've already moved out of your fancy house, and I'm no longer with you.
"I haven't signed," he murmurs without abandoning his playful tone.
I tilt my head, allowing myself to smile with a serious gaze.
"That's your problem," I shrugged again. "I don't understand your insistence on having me stay by your side. You don't love me. And you know what? I don't care to understand it. I want you far away from me.
"Do you have someone else? Is that why you're so insistent on me signing?" he demanded, grabbing my wrist. I sighed. "Tell me.
"It's been a year and four months already! The contract said...
He pulled me closer to him, his mouth moved slowly as his grip on my wrist slid down to my lower back. I parted my lips, following his kiss.
It was already ashes, but every time he kissed me, it was like catching fire again.
The kiss lasted only seconds as he pulled away, just a little, his lips still lingering against mine as he murmured possessively.
"I don't give a damn about how much time has passed, Michelle. You've been mine since you signed that contract.
I pushed him away with my body after those words. He grunted from the force I exerted in the movement, but I didn't show him that I cared.
I was his, not because I signed that contract. I was his because, even though he was the jerk that he was, I couldn't stop thinking about him.
Despite that, I needed him away from me.
"You have no idea how much I regret doing it," I said with a single intention.
To hurt him, however, I was the only one who ended up hurt. In our marriage and in what we were, I always ended up hurt.
But it was my fault. For breaking a rule, something he doesn't know and will never know.
No feelings toward the other party of the contract can occur during the established time.
Arthur is good at not feeling anything he can't control.
I was good at feeling without fear, except this time I feared the rejection of that man.
That man was nothing like what I had wished for myself.
His gaze remained neutral, his face equally so. I swallowed, shaking my head, completely disillusioned by his attitude.
I have no strength left to fight him. I've been doing it for too long, it's enough.
I walk around him to reach his desk, leaning on the table with strength as I feel my body weaken and my vision blur. I swallow, shaking my head to dispel the slight dizziness I just experienced.
I sigh, grab my bag, and walk toward the door of his office. I place my hand on the handle, purse my lips, and just look at him over my shoulder.
"I'm tired of this. Of us," I notice him clenching his jaw, I lick my lips, "I don't want you near me, and if you have an ounce of dignity, which I know you do, you'll accept it.
Regardless of his response, I make my way to the elevator, taking slow steps, the dizziness still present.
"Are you okay, ma'am?" his secretary asks with obvious concern.
He made sure that all his employees knew me as his wife when I signed. I nod in response to her question, the elevator opens, and I step into it after several workers get off on their desired floor. I make a sound in my throat, managing to find my phone and dial his number while selecting the floor I want to go to.
He answers minutes after I exit the elevator.
"Are you coming to pick me up? I'm outside your office," I murmur sadly.
Outside his office? You promised me you wouldn't go there anymore. Wasn't that something you would leave to his lawyer to avoid having to see him?
He's angry, I understand. I said that because it was what I needed at that moment. Not to see him anymore. And I was succeeding, even though he lived in my head, I was managing not to come up with an excuse to go to him.
But his refusal to sign was getting to me.
"I needed to see him," I reply, blinking several times.
I think I'm crying.
Yeah, right, you needed to fuck him one last time, didn't you?
I roll my eyes, leaning my back against the building's wall, pulling back my honey-colored hair, almost auburn.
"Come, I feel sick. I'm dizzy.
I'm on my way.
He hangs up, it takes him several minutes to arrive, minutes in which I destroy myself trying not to think about his face.
The sound of a motorcycle engine makes me lift my gaze from the ground, I huff, why didn't he bring the car? He takes a few seconds to dismount from it when he notices my figure and approaches quickly.
Getting to know him was truly the best thing in these four months.
"What's wrong?" he asks just by being close to me.
The irritating sound of the machine that checks the heart rate is what wakes me up. My eyes adjust to the light after several seconds.
Axel is the one who rushes to my side when he hears me groan. I lick my lips, thirsty. I look to my left where there's a bottle of water, I make a gesture to reach for it myself.
"Stay still," he growls, grabbing it for me.
"Bossy," I whisper, opening my mouth.
He helps me drink, I sigh, leaning my back against the bed. I swallow, analyzing the fact that I'm in a hospital.
"You've been feeling like this for weeks," my partner points out after sitting next to me.
I look at him confused.
"I think breakfast didn't agree with me," I replied, clearing my throat.
He shakes his head, pursing his lips. I bite mine, thinking about what he said. I realize that it's true, I feel dizzy at times.
"Have you had nausea?" he persists.
When he wants to know something, he gets it.
"Sometimes.
"When was the last time you had it?" he approaches.
I huff, sitting up. And why that question?
"I don't know, I don't remember...
I fall silent as I finally understand where he's going with the topic. I look into those small, slanted eyes, coffee-colored eyes. I shake my head.
It can't be.
"Michelle, maybe you're...
"No," I interrupt, shaking my head. "I'm not. It's not the right time. It can't happen, and I'm not. It's probably something else.
I hold his hand, distressed. The doubt planted in my chest and the fear gripping my soul.
Pregnant. I could be pregnant.
"We'll find out soon, I had tests done.
He hugs me, catching the first sob in his neck.
A place where I hide my face while I embrace him. I take into account the last time of my menstruation, making the tears stronger and the fear greater.
A baby by Arthur amid a divorce.
A baby by someone who doesn't love me.
Last Chapters
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MY Possessive Mafia Men
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