Page 92 of The Bad Husband

Looking down, he makes sure his belt is fastened and his clothes look sharp.

“Henrietta and I will travel this week,” he announces dryly. “Please don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone.”

Propped back on my hands, I study him. His eyes slide to my boobs.

“Stupid like what?”

“Like learning how to blow a man on someone else.”

I grin, smug.

“Then don’t let me be alone for long.”

“Don’t push it, beautiful trouble, or I’ll confine you to the basement and have my men guard the door around the clock.”

“No, no. Please don’t do that.”

“That’s what I thought.”

He inches closer to the bed, and I lift an arm to wrap it around his neck while he lowers his mouth to mine.

He leaves a kiss on my lips.

“I’ll leave now. If anything happens in the house, Livia can help you. Feel at home. It might be yours one day,” he says and gives me a soft wink.

I turn to stone, with my eyes wide and my mouth open.

The effect his words have on me seems to amuse him as he walks around the bed and heads to the door.

Our eyes stay locked a little longer before he walks out and I fall back into the pillows.

I’d love to spend more time with him and ignore the woman talking to him in the corridor, but what if she saw him walk out of my room?

A different thought spins in my head.

He must be fucking with me.

He must or his words wouldn’t make much sense.

He must be one of those men who know how to hook a woman with sweet promises, grand gestures, and words that mean nothing in the end.

Why did he have to say that to me?

He was so casual about it as if what he said was real.

As if his home could be mine.

I roll to my side, smiling.

He is fucking with me.

He doesn’t want me to go out with another man. I get that. I don’t want to go out with another man, either, but he and I aren’t exactly dating. Not to mention that he’s married.

He is Henrietta’s husband.

A bad husband at that.

Bad, bad husband.