Page 41 of Married to the Devil

“My wife and my daughter are the most important two things in the world right now. You will protect them with your life. Do you understand?”

“Sir—“

“If you can’t handle this, I’ll make sure to find someone who can.”

“I’ll guard them, sir.”

I stalk away from him. Nunzio is a good lieutenant and a solid captain. I trust him to do his job, but sometimes he doesn’t know when to keep his mouth shut. I tolerate that side of him, but I’m wondering if I’ll need to reinforce his manners shortly.

I push open the doors into the master suite. For a moment, I think it’s empty until I hear soft cursing from the closet. I drift over and pause in the doorway. A mess, my wife standing among it all looking helpless and lost.

God, I’m struck by how beautiful she is. Even with the clothes strewn around her, hair in a falling-out bun, sweats and a sweatshirt, tired and angry, it’s like she’s perfect.

If I was worried I made the wrong choice, seeing her there blasts away any uncertainty.

“Looking for something?”

She turns, startled, and steps back like I’m toxic.

Which is the right move when confronted with me.

“When did you get there?”

“A second ago. You look flustered.”

“It’s all this stuff.” She gestures around the closet. It’s full of tops, bottoms, dresses, accessories, and more. “Where did it all come from?”

“Stores, mostly.”

“Hilarious. I mean, it’s all in my size.”

“I know. That’s usually the point when you shop for someone.”

“But how—“ She takes a shuddering breath. “This is really freaking me out.”

“When I knew you’d be coming to live with me, I instructed my personal shopper to make sure you had everything you’d need. Did you wonder where your clothes came from last night?”

“They were in Hattie’s room—“ She stops and groans. “You put them there.”

“I had my people do it, but yes.”

“But how did you know my size?”

“A good eye. And I broke into your house to check.”

Her mouth drops open. “You did what?”

“When you were working and Hattie was at school, I photographed most of your closet.”

“Oh my god. Are you joking?”

“You have way too many pairs of leggings. Who needs sixteen?”

“You’re not joking.” She leans back against the wall as though dizzy.

“If you’re about to pass out, please tell me. I’ll get you into bed.”

“Don’t touch me.” She holds a hand out as if warding me off. “Just, please, stay away.”