✓ WICKED VOWS| JAKE (Book II )

39-Wifing The Wife

Jake's pov

I'm scared that my darkness will come out on my wife if she keeps pushing herself too hard. It's been four straight hours now, buried in my office going through police reports on the casino fire, banging away at the phones. I keep tabs on her every movement through a network of cameras spread across the house, moving images feeding back into my phone or laptop with gruesome details. She doesn't know that with me, she will always be a step behind, lurking in the shadows of another's territory.

For the last forty-eight hours, I hadn't slept, Digging into what had happened with the fire and who was behind the bombs. Finally, I had uncovered the bomber: Renard. His motive, primarily, had been to rid Ace of London's streets and cripple his business. To understand the extent of this vendetta, I contacted Luca for some information on the economic history of both the Renards' and Terrences'. This competitiveness is fed by hatred and sorrow; Ace becomes one of the largest obstacles Renard will face in his quest for a substantial network in England.

Renard's motivations are basically driven by revenge and vengeance against the Terrences. Details behind their enmity remain known to Terrence alone, but clearly, Renard wants to retake territories and markets Anastasia had taken from him or his allies. She would be a Bratva queen with an influence and resource base posing a threat to his rule by challenging his dominance in the underworld. Renard is trying to take away her lucrative businesses and disturb her control over the money flow.

The lurid tale's twist comes in the form of files I received about the Duke of York's recent trip to France, his daughter bidding for the title of duchess, and incriminating photos of my grandmother—a woman who has been cozying up to the Duke and other royals for her own benefit. It is all part of a sinister plot where royal blood mingles with criminal dealings. Now, it is years of simmering betrayal and envy that fuel my anger, and I am ready to unleash it with the full might of the army that I have so carefully built—a force superior even to the mafia's own. I may send in two of our most elusive snipers to shadow Anastasia everywhere she goes, just to make sure that she never feels safe. But the surprise for grandmother would be that I believe blood does not define family. If blood can betray blood, then maybe blood itself is the easiest answer.

Ironically, it has been the daughter of the Duke who has been persuading me to appoint her as the duchess since she knows that I am the next one to the throne. But so long as my father lives, I will see that he retains his throne. I'm still trying to understand why Terrence was friends with Anna. Their friendship had been formed on some type of mutual trust. That's what had given her the ability to run her business and operate on one of his streets. That's a very strange relationship and one which makes me jealous and angry. The way he supported her, and gave her so much privilege behind my back, just makes my blood boil. It was more provocation when he sent her roses, and I trashed them in my rage.

I knocked on the door before pushing open my office, where I found Anastasia stooping over, working on her laptop with a bunch of papers held in one hand and another resting in pain. This strapless top, that I had picked out for her this morning, didn't do much to conceal those shoulders reddened from swelling, making them look as glorious as the moon. She was beautiful chaos, a messy sight of any woman undeniably mine.

I couldn't deny it—there was something undeniably hot about watching her immerse herself in work, her workaholic nature adding to her allure.

"Why are you knocking on your own office?" she asked as I let myself in. I couldn't help but note that for the first time since Alex left, there wasn't any smoke present. She was changing, even if she didn't know it.

"I'm just here for a patient file," I replied, heading toward my desk where she sat, as usual. I could easily set her up with her own office, but I preferred seeing her in mine, sitting in my chair. She was like a missing piece of art in my otherwise sterile office—an element that added life, even if that life was entwined with darkness. I welcomed it with my bloody hands.