fucking like it or not. It’s up to you how that plays out.
You can be a wife and mother and live here happily with me, or you can make this shit harder on yourself and stay locked in this fucking room for the rest of your life. Either way, I win, and if you ever try to hurt my child, there will be no place in hell that you can hide.”
I pushed her away from me and dropped the folder I’d brought up with me on the bed, before leaving the room.
Two hours later she was in the doorway of the study watching me. I kept my head in the paper I was pretending to read. She walked farther into the room and stood in front of my desk.
“You got something to say to me?”
“I wouldn’t have hurt the baby. I was trying to find one of the journals you gave me.”
I didn’t answer her, or even acknowledge her ; just waited for her to say whatever it was that she’d com down here to say.
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. My dad was…he was my dad. The things in here, that’s not the person I knew.” She placed the folder on top of the desk and folded her arms.
“I’m sorry for what he did to your family; but I don’t know how I can live with you, knowing that you…”
“That’s not a decision you have to make. I thought I made this shit clear. Whether or not you’re staying here isn’t up for debate. The question is in what capacity you choose to live here. As a prisoner, or as a wife.”
“It’s not that easy.”
“It is that fucking easy. Your old man was a piece a shit, get over it; he had a hand in killing my grandfather and I’ll kill the fuck if I had to do it all over again. I had a choice, kill you, or marry you. And believe me if I’d thought of letting you go, my dad or one of my brothers would’ve had you taken out.
I didn’t give you that folder to change your mind about him; I gave it to you because this bullshit ends today. After today you won’t be shut away in our room, you’re going to be my fucking wife whether you like it or not. Get use to it.”
She started breathing harder, like she’d run a marathon or some fuck and I knew she was about to start her shit. ‘I’ll be careful if I were you Natalia, I’m not doing this shit with you again.” I finally looked at her as she deflated.
“If you want to pretend the last few months didn’t happen, or that they meant nothing to you, that’s on you. But your old man will not take anything else from me. You can continue to fight me if you want, the end result will still be the same. I love you, you love me and your dad has nothing to do with us.”
“How can you say that?”
“I can say it because it’s the truth. I don’t need you to forgive me for what I’ve done, but you will calm the fuck down.” She marched out of the room and I let her go. I was getting tired of the shit. Maybe I was being too hard on he, but what other choice did I have? We had to find a happy medium because I wasn’t giving her up and she couldn’t let go of her anger.
For the next few days I let her roam around the house, ignoring me. But at night it was the same story. As soon as I reached for her she lit the fuck up. I used those hours loving her, not rutting like a beast the way I had when she’d first started pissing me off. But with tender touches and long deep kisses.
I was breaking her down bit by bit, keeping her in a constant state of confusion. She didn’t know how to hold onto her anger when I kept being kind to her. Like the day I went out and bought her some sparkly shit. Or when I rubbed her back because I knew my kid was making her a little uncomfortable, just before making love to her.
Now I have one last trick up my sleeve.
“Go ahead Natalia pull the trigger.” She didn’t think I knew she was standing behind me, as I stood at the sink. I’d purposely left my gun on the nightstand before coming down to make breakfast.
I didn’t turn around to see what move she’d make , just continued doing