The Good Bad Girl

Chapter 16 Midnight drama

It was almost dawn and I hadn't had one crack of sleep last night. My entire mind is running around after one person. Mi Zorro, my feisty little fox who brought out my roughest temptation. 

In the beginning years of our marriage, I was protective of her because she had my last name and I take quite strict tendencies to keep my people safe. With the conditions in our marital contract, I was bound to keep her away from my sight. 

I haven't encountered the reason behind that stupid condition but I am thinking of doing so soon. Benedict may have fled the scene today but Roco is on his tail and I am sure Mi Zorro is also watching his moves.

There wasn't any movement from him since the Gala yet I still called the shots and told my men to be on high alert. I need to end Benedict myself. That son of a bitch has ruined so many lives with him that even Lucifer will hand him a couple extra years in hell. 

Roco and Luca said that Benedict had run away from the party covered in blood. Since he was wearing white it wasn't hard to detect where the blood was coming from. On the CCTV that Roco had sent me on my encrypted laptop, I saw him escape from the back in a Volvo without a number plate. No surprises there. 

His white tux was covered in a deeper shade of red coming from his face if I presume. I got really happy, proud even seeing the damage Mi Zorro did to him.  That bastard didn't need eyes to see how ugly he was turning the world into. 

Not that I didn't like thinking about my enemies at late night but my thought without any warning wandered off to someplace else or rather someone that I was doing a very marvelous job in controlling it. 

The recollection of Gala doesn't end with Benedict when my traitorous mind drifts off to a certain brunette whose legs are more intoxicating than hundred-year-old Merlot, eyes more drunk and magnetic than a science theory, lips so glossy and luscious coated in her signature red color waiting to be damned.

Previously, she was just a blurry image. A shadow, a black empty portrait without any facial identity. I kept an ideology of my wife as someone soft and elegant. A good girl with thick hair and slender legs that spreads whenever I slid between her. 

But, after the lake house, the blurry image of my wife cleared and knocked my worlds apart. The desperation to see the person whose been carrying my last name for half a decade got me and I unravel the biggest mystery of my life without thinking about its repercussions.

I may have poured water over my curiosity to see her but last night. It was a whole new drum of impatience, lust, and something very raw.

Whenever I close my eyes, I  keep seeing her in those black high heels, the tip digging into my chest like drops of wax stinging my heart with carnal.

Oh, the things I would've done to her with that high heel. The thought itself makes my dick itch with desperation. "Control it you little shit. I am not touching you again," I say throwing the bedsheets aside. 

Now, that I am awake and hard which is a pretty common look of mine these days, I head for another common look of mine which is a late-night scotch drink. 

I get a glass from the shelf and pour myself a neat. One sip and I am thinking of a hundred and sixty-nine ways to fuck her. 

Touch her, mark her, and bloody make her mine. I can't believe I stayed five years away from her. The lame couple things that others do, we might've done that had it not been for that motherfucker who purposely set those terms and conditions. 

I was helpless at that time. The power that contract had on me in addition to my father's orders I couldn't do anything except follow along. 

I kept thinking about what would've happened if we got married through a less complicated arrange marriage system. The one where we don't have a contract or an order to limit us. Had we been like other couples? Would we have weekly dinner dates, lame Sunday barbeques, and birthday sex? 

I don't know if my past self would've done all that nauseating marriage stuff. Hell, I didn't even wanna marry her, it was my father's order that made me walk down the court and sign the papers. I had no intention of being tied up to someone else, though that was a thought I had five years ago. Now, I kind of became a pathetic loser who can't get proper sleep without his dick getting hard every five seconds at the mention of his wife's name who still thinks we're divorced.  

I absent-mindedly run my fingers along the edges of the glass inhaling the coldness of the drink and bitterness down my throat when suddenly my phone vibrates. I pick it up and my heart climbs out of my throat as I recognize the number.

How can I not when every night I keep enchanting it like a prayer? Hoping I'll call now but never built the guts. 

Without further waste of time, I answered.

"Hey!" Comes her voice the minute our call connects, "Don't ask anything but I need your help."

I put my scotch down, "Where are you?"

"No, no. You don't need to come. I just want you-" she pauses and then whispers, "to pretend that you're my boss and I am a secret agent under your wing."

Confusion frowns my eyebrows, "Are you drunk?" 

"No," she says, "I am not drunk. I am just asking you to help me. Is that so hard to understand?"

"It is when you're calling me in the middle of the night asking me to act like your boss and what agent?" 

She huffs, "Listen I am sorry if I wake you up but I really need you to lie for me, Okay? I know how you've helped me several times in cleaning the murder scenes. This time, I am coming forward and asking you personally to help out with one teeny tiny lie. Pretend you're my boss and confirm I am a secret agent who needs to hide her identity."

Needs to hide her identity? Did she get caught in a camera?

I straightened and looked at my reflection in the mirror right between the shelves. "What did you do now? Did you kill someone in the middle of a store and get caught?" I say amused.

"Right, because I happen to do that every time. Ain't it Asher?" her sassiness drawls a laugh out of me. "Well, sorry to disappoint you I didn't chop-chop someone. Instead, I saved a store from getting robbed and got myself under the target of the stupid bounty hunter who thinks I am one of them."

My body froze, "You got a bounty hunter in your tail?" 

"FYI, they happened to be pretty common in this area. I just didn't know about it until it was too late. Fucking Google betrayed me for using the Browser."

I wet my lips and ran to my bedroom for a change of clothes. "Where exactly are you?"

"No shit. You're not coming here. This isn't something that cannot be solved through a phone. Just do what I asked you and save us both the trouble."

I couldn't hold it any longer. I am already furious she got caught by a bounty hunter, the thought that she isn't willing to give her location now made me angry. I couldn't care less if she's in London or South Dakota or anywhere in the world, I am going to her either way. 

I stopped right in front of my walk-in closet and took a frustrating five-second breath trying my best not to sound too lethal on the phone but the minute her name touched my tongue and bad thoughts that law enforcement could do to her if she's taken to custody raged my blood with sheer protectiveness. 

I close my eyes forgetting the breathing exercise as I speak in my coldest tone that'll shiver even the rulers of hell.  "Olivia," That's all it took to get the location out of her.