The Bound Princess (Dark Romance)

Chapter 32

Dawood

Rage was what I felt, indescribable and immeasurable. I wanted to kill her. I would have killed her if not for Dad. Her courage to try and play with me, how could she even think she could toy with me and get away with it?

I was so fucking hard that I would have fucked her right there if not for her challenge to make her submit to me willingly. A cold shower and workout didn't help much. I was still hard and pacing in my bedroom like a wounded lion. I saw her going out an hour after the pool incident.

It was better if she wasn't around me in this state. The caretaker, Carla, returned from her grocery shopping and asked me what I would like for dinner. All I wanted was to skin my wife alive or fuck her six ways to Sunday.

Telling the housekeeper to prepare whatever the fuck she wanted, I started playing a game on the PlayStation to divert my mind. With my fucking 160+ IQ, not a single game was challenging enough to hold my interest.

Fuck her, fuck the whole world. I threw the joystick on the floor and stalked out of the room. Carla, our housekeeper, was busy in the kitchen. I opened the terrace door and stepped out. My clothes were on the floor beside the pool, along with her bikini top. My blood simmered again at the sight of it. I needed to leave the house; otherwise, I would break every fucking thing in it.

I turned and walked back inside, informing Carla I was leaving. I picked up my wallet and cell and left the house. Oia was bustling with tourists this time of the year. I made my way toward the local market to distract myself. Studying the tourists somewhat diverted my thoughts away from my wife.

After watching the sunset from the secluded spot, which was hard to find, I sat there replying to the emails on my cell. I stayed home the past three days and worked. The wedding and our stay in Turkey and now in Santorini affected my schedule. I was sure I wouldn't get any free time after we returned to Boston, and it would be for the best. The less I come across my wife, the best it would be for her and me.

Babaanne (grandmother) told me she was looking forward to meeting my kids the next time we visit Turkey. I couldn't blame her; she always got excited about great-grandkids. A few of my cousins who were married and had kids visited Istanbul now and again because Babaanne drove them nuts by telling them how much she missed the kids.

I was in no mood to have kids, not now, not ever, especially not with Daddy's Princess. The first thing to do after returning to Boston was to consult a gynecologist and put my wife on a pill or a shot. Dad won't be happy with my decision, but he couldn't get the best of both worlds.

It was nearly time for dinner when I returned home. Carla was drooling on a barstool in the kitchen while the whole house was utterly silent. I made my way to the kitchen to retrieve a water bottle from the refrigerator.

When Carla noticed me, she sat upright and gave me a polite smile, "I was worried you and Madame might dine out," she said.

I halted in my tracks. What did she mean by we might dine out? Didn't the bitchy Princess return?

"Your Madame didn't return?"

"She wasn't with you?" Clara asked me back.

Fuck.

Where was she? She had never been out so late and always returned before the sunset-oh God, where the hell could she be? I didn't reply to Clara and turned back on my heels and headed outside. I had no fucking idea where I should start looking for her. She could be anywhere on this island.

I started asking in the stores, restaurants, and even the passersby. How could she be so reckless to stay out this late? Santorini was safe, but there could be exceptions. The girl was walking sex on legs.