Bride by Initiation: Secret Society Mafia Marriage Pact (The Underworld Book 1)
Bride by Initiation: Chapter 28

‘Turn me out, turn me in,’ I sing, sliding into my robe and jamming to my new favorite song. I tie the belt around my waist, pick up the laundry basket, and step out of the closet.

I keep singing as I stroll into the laundry room and then put the basket on the counter. I separate the white clothes from the colored ones and start a pile for the dry cleaner.

A new song comes on, and I sing along with it. I check each piece of clothing in the white pile to ensure nothing is in the pockets, then toss them into the washing machine. I pour soap on top and turn it on.

I don’t know all of the song’s lyrics, so I hum to the beat as I repeat the process with the colored pile, setting each item aside.

As usual, Sean’s pockets have things in them. Cash, coins, and a few pieces of paper with notes in his scratched writing. I roll my eyes, smiling as I check a pair of shorts, then move on to the dry-cleaning pile.

I pick up a pair of his black trousers and reach inside a pocket. I pull out a tube of lipstick, and feel ill. My pulse hammers as my stomach flips faster. I grab the counter to steady myself, staring at the cheap pink plastic tube.

That’s not mine.

When did he wear these pants?

Friday. He wore them when we went to the charity event.

He had to leave early, claiming Liam needed him for some work emergency.

My hand trembles, but I force myself to open the tube. I slowly turn the plastic, and a half-used, hot pink cream stick appears.

Whose lips has this touched?

He didn’t have lip marks on him when he came home.

How do I know that for sure, though? He slid into bed around three a.m. and fucked me, telling me how sorry he was for having to ditch me at the event.

He’d showered before he got into bed.

Sean wouldn’t cheat on me.

Then why is some woman’s cheap lipstick in his pants?

The more I recall the night my husband wore the black dress pants, the sicker I feel.

But anger mixes with the hurt, spinning inside me until it takes over. I stare at the lipstick, gripping the edge of the counter until my knuckles turn white.

Sean’s palm slides around my body, slipping under my robe. His toffee and bourbon vanilla scent flares around me while his fingers torment me, softly gliding over my slit. His hot breath tickles my neck, sending tingles down my spine. He pulls the towel off my head, slides his other hand into my wet hair, and tugs my head back. His lips brush against my lobe as he murmurs, ‘How was yoga?‘

My heart pounds harder, my chest rising and falling faster with too many conflicting emotions.

He teases, ‘Want to show me any new moves?’

I close my eyes, breathing through my nose, determined not to cry and tap into my anger.

There has to be an explanation.

Yeah, he cheated on me.

He lowers his hand, slipping two fingers inside me, pumping slowly.

I inhale sharply, hating how he can still create a reaction within me when I feel like I should hate him.

He wouldn’t touch another woman.

He’s bored with me.

I squeeze my eyes tighter, trying to stop the warring thoughts and chaotic trembles in my stomach.

There has to be an explanation for this.

Every woman says that when their man cheats on them.

He wouldn’t!

What if he did?

He kisses my neck, pushes his erection into my spine, and mumbles, ‘I can’t get any work done. I’ve been thinking about what I want to do with you.’

‘Did you do it with her too?’ I spout, my voice cracking and tears welling in my eyes.

He freezes.

I push him back and then spin to face him.

Confusion fills his expression. ‘What are you talking about?‘

I hold the lipstick in front of his face, demanding, ‘Who is she?’

He glances at the lipstick and then scowls at me. ‘You’ve got to be kidding me.’

‘Don’t lie to me, Sean!’

‘You think I’d cheat on you?’

‘It was in your pocket!’ I shout, a tear falling.

He wipes it off my cheek with his thumb, then keeps his palm on my jaw. In a low voice, he states, ‘Zara, I would never cheat on you. You’re my wife.’

My lips tremble. I seethe, ‘It was in the pants you wore on the night you left me at the charity event—on my own.’

‘That doesn’t prove I cheated on you. And you know Liam called me for an emergency situation,’ he claims.

I scoff. ‘Don’t insult me, Sean! Who is she? At least give me the courtesy not to lie to me. We both know you get bored.’

His eyes turn to slits. ‘I get bored? What about you?’

I huff. ‘Me? You’re going to flip this on me?’

His voice raises. ‘Don’t act like it’s not true! Every day I wake up, wondering if it’s the day you’ll toss me aside for a newer model.’

I jerk my head backward, gaping at him.

‘Don’t act like you don’t get bored faster than I do,’ he adds.

I jab the lipstick into his chest. ‘Don’t you dare turn this on me! I’ve been nothing but a loving wife to you! You’re the one who left me on my own at a work event and came home with some cheap whore’s lipstick in your pocket! That’s on you, Sean! Not me!’

He glances at the tube and then meets my eyes, his greens flaring with flames. He declares, ‘I was working, Zara. I’ve never seen that lipstick before, so stop accusing me of something I would never do.’

‘Bullshit!’

He snatches the lipstick out of my hand. He tosses it in the trash, steps closer, and pins me to the washing machine.

I lean backward.

He cages me in, pressing his erection against my stomach. He moves his head until his lips are an inch from mine. ‘I’m not a cheater, my little brat.’

The ache in my core turns fiery. It happens every time he calls me his brat and gives me that angsty look. I hate myself for it right now, so I scold myself, and snarl, ‘Then how did it get in your pocket? It’s not mine.’

‘I don’t know. But it doesn’t prove anything.’

‘Don’t gaslight me.’

‘Don’t insult me further,’ he warns, his chest pushing against mine, his gaze darting to my mouth.

My pussy throbs. I challenge, ‘Or what, Sean?’

Tense silence builds between us while the air turns hotter.

His hand drops to my waist. He unties the belt of my robe and then pushes the satin off my shoulder, taunting, ‘I’ll have to show my little brat what happens when she accuses me of things I would never do.’

‘It was in your pocket,’ I say, but it comes out weak, and I hate myself for it.

His lips caress my collarbone, and I whimper, closing my eyes. I push my hands against his chest, but there’s no force behind them.

He slides his hands in my hair and tugs my head back again.

My nipples harden, and I squeeze my thighs together.

Hurt fills his expression, and he demands, ‘Be honest, Zara. You know I could never cheat on you, right?’

I want to believe him but don’t want to be gullible either.

‘Tell me,’ he snarls through gritted teeth.

I whisper, ‘It’s not my lipstick.’

‘Fucking bad little brat of mine,’ he mumbles. Disappointment flares across his sharp features.

My heart hurts, but I won’t cave. I add, ‘Tell me how it got there if it’s not what I think?’

‘I don’t know. Someone had to have put it there. I’ve never seen it before now. But I definitely wouldn’t be so stupid as to leave it in my pocket if I were that type of guy,’ he states.

His comment reignites my fury. ‘Glad to know I need to look for other clues!’

‘You shouldn’t be looking for clues! I’d never cheat on you! I love you!’

‘Sure you do!’ I hurl as the washer spins at a faster speed.

His scowl deepens. He warns, ‘Last chance. Tell me you believe me and that you’re just emotional right now.’

Maddening rage fills me. I snap, ‘Fuck you, my cheating husband.’

He jerks his head backward. He studies my lips and then slowly meets my gaze.

My ache intensifies.

He maintains, ‘I haven’t slept with anyone but you since before we got married.’

‘Prove it,’ I challenge.

His eyes widen, smoldering with a dark fire. ‘That’s it!’ In a quick move, he spins me and pushes me over the washer, fuming, ‘Let me remind you who I belong to, my little brat.’

‘You should think about that before you fuck someone else,’ I hurl.

He grabs the back of my robe and shoves it to the side, where it hangs from my arm. The cold metal hits my body, and his warm palm splays against my back.

‘Sean—’

A loud smack ricochets through the air. A sting erupts against my ass cheek and gnaws at my aching core.

He barks, ‘Let me make it clear, my little brat.’

Smack!

‘Oh God!’ I mumble, blinking hard, my hands flailing to grip something, but there’s nothing but the flat top of the machine. The vibrations of the washer’s cycle fly through my nipples, sending more shock waves through my chest.

‘I love you and only you. Always have and always will,’ he declares, spanking me again.

A spasm hits me, and my voice cracks. ‘F-fuck!’

‘Tell me to stop, my little brat, and I will,’ he claims, but it’s also a warning.

He knows I can’t ever tell him to stop when he touches me. He’s a magnet, and there’s no way to pull away from him. The moment we crossed the line, it became undoable. He knows it, and I know it.

He lowers his face to the side of mine, murmuring in my ear, ‘Don’t ever accuse me of doing the unforgivable again, my little brat. You’re my pulse, and you know it. And if you ever do to me what you’re accusing me of, I swear to God…’ He pins his dark gaze on me.

I hold my breath, and the machine switches to the spin cycle.

He spanks me again.

I yelp, and a throbbing wave of endorphins washes through me.

He slides his hand up my spine and wraps his fist around my hair. He kisses my cheek and then glides into me.

‘Sean!’ I whisper-shout, already feeling dizzy from the sensory overload.

His thick cock thrusts to the beat of the washer, and he lifts my head higher, turning it toward his face. His lips graze mine, but he doesn’t slide his tongue in my mouth. He kisses me and then studies me, repeating it several times.

I try to resist, but I can’t. Within seconds, my tongue rolls against his, and everything explodes around me. Adrenaline pounds through me, and his erection pushes deeper.

‘That’s it, my little brat,’ he coos against my lips.

My pussy spasms around his cock. Dizziness slaps me over and over until I’m shaking as hard as the washer and seeing white.

‘You’re my wife, Zara! My wife! You’re the only one who gets me,’ he barks, thrusting faster.

Incoherent sounds fly out of me. I try to focus, but my eyes keep rolling.

Endorphins flood me, intensifying the spasms.

‘My little… Fuuuuck,’ he booms, his body swelling and pushing mine past the point of no return.

A bigger orgasm hits me, and I squirt all over him. It runs down my legs and puddles around my feet.

‘Good little brat,’ he grits, thrusting through his high for what feels like an eternity.

My adrenaline slows, my focus returning like a slow-motion picture. Then it’s just Sean’s sweaty skin against mine, our ragged breaths, and the cold washer vibrating under us.

He slowly lifts his body off of me, pulls me to my feet, and spins me to face him. He keeps me pinned to the washer as he grips the back of my head. ‘I mean it, Zara. I don’t know where that lipstick came from, but someone put it there. They had to have. I’ve never been with anyone but you since we took our vows. Nor will I ever again.’

I stare at him, my hurt and anger returning, wanting so badly to believe him but not wanting to be that girl; the one who stays and then realizes years later she’s given her life to a man who doesn’t deserve her.

It’s Sean. He does deserve me.

I can’t leave anyway. We’re bound for eternity.

A new sense of panic hits me.

He kisses me. ‘Glad we got that sorted.’ He steps back and reaches for his shorts on the floor.

The realization I’m trapped and Sean could cheat on me for the rest of my life, consumes me. My insides quiver with fear. I snarl, ‘You’re going to have to do better than that for me to believe you.’ I brush past him, exiting the laundry room.

He follows me. ‘This is bullshit! Grow up, Zara!’

I spin on him, jabbing him in the chest. ‘Don’t you tell me to grow up! I wasn’t the one with the lipstick in my pocket!’

An unknown expression fills his features. It tears through me, but my anxiety doesn’t cease. He snarls, ‘I don’t know where the lipstick came from, but I didn’t fuck anyone else.’

‘Prove it,’ I spout, then stomp into the bedroom and slam the door. I lock it, then slide into bed, unable to stop the tears from drenching my pillow.