Mafia Billionaire’s Forlorn Wife

007-Rhys

When I return home, the only thing I am in the mood for is to sit in the cigar room and drink the night away.

That is how hectic today has been.

For starters, my car broke down this morning on my way to the office and the delay that caused resulted in me losing a meeting with an important client whom I had been trying to pin down for quite some time now. Then I found out that the latest coke shipment that was supposed to be delivered to the cartels down South got busted by the Mexican police. And as a cherry on top, my assistant ended up spilling hot coffee all over my shirt, resulting in a two thousand dollar Brunello Cucinelli going into trash and of course, my assistant being fired.

At present, I have one less assistant, a perfectly good shirt that is now sitting with a massive coffee stain in the trash, a client who loves to dodge meetings and is only going to get more notorious, and a blasted headache that f*****g refuses to go away.

I shake my head, grumbling all the way as I stride through the empty hallways of my house, loosening my tie as I make my way to the East wing on the first floor where the cigar room is located.

I climb up the stairs, realising that yet again, the house is eerily quiet.

This is how it has been since the night I brought Arabella home from the club two months ago. Ever since the next morning, she has refused to be in even the same room as me.

There are some days when I don’t even catch her sight and it has been irking me way more than I thought it would.

I thought this is what I wanted but each day that passes by, I am growing more agitated by the fact that Arabella has completely withdrawn herself from me.

I shake my head, my jaw ticks in the added frustration as I pass by Arabella’s room on my way to the cigar lounge and to my surprise, the light from her room spills on the marbled floor of the hall, and from her ajar door, I can hear her humming underneath her breath.

Curiosity tickles my conscience as I slow in my steps and just as I pass by, involuntarily, I turn my head to my left and what I see in front of my eyes is enough to make my blood run cold and my feet halt in their tracks.

There are hefty luggage bags sprawled all over the floor of her room and from what I can see, her bed is currently a spillage of clothes and accessories.

Is she leaving me?

Has she finally had enough of this marriage and has decided to walk away?

Is this why she has spent the last two months in isolation?

Was she trying to prepare herself for this day?

My heart thuds inside my chest as I step towards the doorway of her room, taking in the neatly folded piles of clothes sitting on the bed next to an open suitcase, all ready to be packed away.

And just to confirm this horrible realisation, the goddess herself walks in the room from the attached walk in closet, holding another pile of her clothes, humming under her breath before her eyes finally land on me.

She almost stumbles in her steps when she sees me and I almost reach out for her to catch her.

Almost.

But neither of that happens as she comes to an abrupt halt and looks at me with an expression filled with shock and anguish and a heartbreaking sliver of hope that I am certain she tries to hide but is unable to.

“Mr. Mikhailov…?” She stutters out, blinking a few times to get over the initial shock before she proceeds to place the pile of clothes inside the suitcase on the bed. “I didn’t think you’d be home today.”

That’s true, I wasn’t supposed to be home today.

“Is that why you chose today in order to pack up and run?” I spit out, my words mixing with the turmoil coursing through my heart come out way harsher than even I had expected.

Arabella flinches in response, and I feel the claws of guilt dragging down my heart. I know how much she hates it when someone speaks to her in this tone. I know everything about her.

Fuck, I’m an asshole.

She shakes her head before turning to look at me as she pulls her shoulders back in an attempt to look strong, “would you have let me go if I simply asked?” She asks jutting out her chin defiantly.

I have half of my mind set on wrapping my hand around her throat and taking her lips for a punishing kiss for her deviance but I lean against her doorframe instead, and watch her with an intent gaze.

“No, sunshine, I would not have. You want to know why?” I ask her, my voice has a dark lilt to it that tells most of my enemies to be afraid.

But Arabella simply looks at me expectantly, either not picking up on the dangerous drop in temperature around her or choosing to ignore it.

She gives me a curt nod.

“Because I will not have you spoiling my name by becoming my runaway wife, Arabella. I will grant you your freedom but that will only be once I have fully exploited your father and have destroyed him for every penny he owns.” I tell her without breaking the contact between our eyes.

Arabella continues to stare at me with her face void of any emotions before she rolls her eyes.

She f*****g rolls her eyes.

And then she huffs, turning to walk towards her closet again.

“I sincerely wish I could care about any of that.” She mutters under her breath as she goes.

And something about her tone when combined with my shitty day and the choking unease that comes with the thought of her leaving me, stirs something dark and dangerous inside me as I cross the distance between us in two long strides and wrap my hands around her wrist before pulling her up against my chest with her ass pressing up against my front.

“Let go of me.” She says breathlessly, as she struggles to free her wrist but stills the moment I take another step and press her flush against my chest while lowering my lips to whisper near her ear.

“I have worked for years to bring down Dominico Mancini, and I will not have you ruining that for me just because you were foolish enough to fall for me and that isn’t working out so well for you any longer. Finally I am getting closer to breaking his empire bit by bit and even your brother with his tech genius can barely manage to scratch me, let alone wound me.” She shivers when I press a kiss to the side of her neck at the end of that sentence before I take her earlobe between my teeth and she hisses, “so, listen well, Arabella Mancini, you will stay here and look pretty as my wife for as long as I want you, is that clear?”

I can’t have her knowing that the thought of her leaving me affects me more than any of those things happening. I can’t tell her that seeing her packing up her stuff is enough to send me over the edge and I am willing to keep her here even if that entails chaining her to her bed.

And besides, if she leaves then my plans to destroy Mancini’s empire would most definitely have to be rethought but that isn’t something that I am much concerned with. All I care about is stopping Arabella from walking away.

The worst part is, I don’t even know why I care about this woman staying so much.

Her soft voice brings me out of my thoughts as she tilts her head back, and I am surprised to find pure fire burning in her striking green eyes, “it is all about your revenge plans, isn’t it?” She asks in an almost saddened tone which doesn’t sit well with me.

And then, with a harsh tug, she snatches her wrist out of my grip and steps back before she glares at me heatedly.

“You men believe that you can do whatever the f**k you want, use us as pawns and get away with it. Both you, and my father.” She spits with such hatred that it makes me clench my fists.

“Don’t you dare compare me to that man, Arabella.” I warn her. That man deserves the worst of this world and I will not have her comparing me to him.

She smirks bitterly, “why can’t I?” She asks. “First it was my father, thinking that he would get to sell me off to the highest bidder who brings him the most business in return for my hand. And now, it is you who’s trying to use me to bring him down like I’m some pawn you can use to get him to do your bidding.”

I can feel the anger spiking inside me at the way she sneers at me and once again tries to walk away just as a growl rips from my throat and I grab her by her bicep and pin her against the wall in one swift motion.

“I never manipulated you the way he has, for your entire life.” I glower, already getting sick and tired of this conversation, “and don’t f*****g walk away from me while I am still speaking.”

She ignores my second statement and looks up in my eyes with slight tears gathering in my orbs as she whispers, “no, Mr. Mikhailov, you are worse. You made me fall in love with you, you pretended to love me for seven months. You had me marry you. And now, you are using me to destroy my father who refuses to even speak to me. My family has disowned me and I have nowhere else to call home all the while you keep me trapped here like some animal. So, no, you did not manipulate me like my father has for my entire life, Mr. Mikhailov. You destroyed me.”

And when she pushes against my chest, I stagger back more so by the weight of her words as she stares at me for a moment and then scoffs before walking away inside her closet.

Absent mindedly, I follow after her, while her words still haunt me.

She is pulling out a few coats from their hangers as she says, “and don’t worry, I won’t be ruining your plans. The expansion to Paris is happening and I have to go there for a month to make sure that things run smoothly. That is the only condition that Pierre has agreed on since he trusts me.”

Her words are like an ice cold bath as my head spins from the catastrophe that this entire conversation has been before she walks by my towards the room once again, carrying more clothes.

“So, you’ll be back?” I ask her, but my voice comes out meek and uncertain.

I don’t even have the energy to be angry anymore. After the way Arabella has just shown me the mirror of my actions and the long day that I have had, I’m f*****g exhausted.

She turns around and looks at me with confusion, searching my face for something but I quickly make it void of any expressions. She purses her lips in displeasure and then says, “yes. I will be. In a month.”

And this time when she begins to walk back to the closet, I cannot help but reach out and pull her back to myself once again, but way more gently than the other two times.

She yelps and looks at me with a mixture of annoyance and confusion. And just as she is about to say something again, I stop her by crashing my lips onto hers.