Rouge: A Dark Billionaire Romance (Tattered Curtain Series)
Rouge: Act 2 – Scene 16

Kian

My pretty wife stills in my arms, but I’m prepared when she shoots up, trying to escape me. I knew before I asked my question that she might figuratively and literally try to buck against it. There’s a secret in her that she’ll die to protect, but she’ll have to get through me first.

She thrashes about and I tighten my hold, wrapping one arm around her waist and the other across her chest. Even as I try to wrangle her, she lashes out like a caged animal and bites my forearm. Fire blazes beneath her teeth and I know she’s tasting blood.

I lean forward and plunge her under without thinking. She unlatches to scream and it warbles through the water as she scratches me. My rapid heartbeat thunders in my chest, anger and worry dueling with reason.

As soon as she stops mauling me, I yank her up by the back of her neck as fast as I can. When she breaks the surface, she’s coughing and choking too much to try to get away from me again.

“Wh-what the fuck, Kian?!” she sputters and glares daggers at me. Blood-red droplets tinge her pink lips and the garnet swirls seeping from my forearm prove she got me good.

“You’re fine.” I swallow thickly, telling myself more than her.

“I’m fine?! Stop saying that word! Fine, fine, fine! I’m not fucking fine!”

“You were under for barely ten seconds. If you’d stopped fighting me sooner, it would’ve been fewer. You’re lucky that’s all I did after you fecking bit me like a goddamn wild animal!”

Even as I yell at her, I check her pulse with my fingers. It’s rapid but hearty, and although her chest is strawberry red from exertion, she’s breathing enough to practically have steam coming out of her nose. She swats my hand away before I can assess her further, but her fiery temper and angry eyes tell me more than anything else that she’s okay.

“You tried to drown me!” As she shrieks at me, I wrap a long hand towel around my forearm to stanch the bleeding.

“I didn’t and you bloody well know it. You only get”—I pull the knot with one hand—“as good as you give”—and tighten it with my teeth before I meet her angry glare with a pointed look—“wife. Remember that in our marriage. Maybe you’ll survive it. I swear to Christ, though, keep acting like a feral cat and you won’t.”

Her eyes widen as she tries to read me, obviously wondering if I’m full of shite. I want to be, but if she pulls a stunt like that again, I’ll have no choice but to actually punish her. If I were any other Garde member, she would’ve never come up for air.

My jaw clenches to the point of pain as I wait impatiently for her to stop studying me. Three droplets trail down her pouting face before she finally replies.

“I can’t decide whether you’re my savior or my worst nightmare.”

“Best think of me as both then, it’s safer that way.”

Without waiting for her response, I stand and let the water sluice down my frame. Her eyes follow the defined hills and valleys of my muscles better than any of the beads of water. Resisting the urge to smirk, I climb out and dry off with a towel before wrapping it around my waist. She’s still appreciating the view when I hold up another fluffy white towel for her to step into.

“Up.”

Her brow scrunches. My fiery wife has a shite poker face with me, but knowing she’s dropping her defenses pleases me to no end.

“What’re you doing?” She rises slowly and crosses her arms, inadvertently pushing up her glistening breasts, prompting my cock to twitch behind the cotton.

Fecking hell, I can’t get enough of this girl.

“You’re wet, Lacey, and not for the fun reasons. I’ll be forced to remedy that if you don’t dry off and put some damn clothes on.”

As if a switch has flipped, she snatches the towel from me and wraps it around herself.

I suck my teeth and sigh. “Shame. Torturing a few more orgasms from you would’ve been fun.”

Her narrowed eyes look all the angrier thanks to the spiked wet lashes framing them. Despite her reservations, she still lets me help her out of the tub and lead her into the bedroom.

Once we enter the spacious room, her eyes dart to the exit.

“Thinking of running?”

“I wish, but I’m obviously not good at locks,” she grumbles. “I’m thinking I could really use a fucking drink and a change of clothes. I don’t think I’ve ever survived this much chaos for this long without alcohol and a wardrobe change.”

“Out of luck on alcohol, I’m afraid. I’d get you water, but I hear I’m fresh out of glasses.” My brow rises.

“Ugh, fine. What about clothes? I don’t want to put that dress back on.”

“No need to worry about that. You’ve got plenty of clothes to choose from here.”

Her eyes roll so hard I think they’ll fall out. “Let me guess, you want to pick everything your wee wife wears?”

“I’d rather you be naked, but in the alternative…” I flick on the light inside the closet’s open door and give her side of the small room a dramatic flourish. “I had these delivered while you were—”

“Drugged?”

“Asleep. More will come, but this was all I could get on short notice.”

She walks through the closet, gliding her fingers over the different garments. I think I’ve finally tipped the odds in my favor, but when she replies, her voice drips with contempt.

“Did you have a pretty assistant go get them?”

“Jealous, tine?” I snort. “Tolie’s not really my style, but I’m sure he’d love to know you called him pretty.”

“Tolie found these?” Her face lights up as she searches through the closet with new fervor.

“The one and only. He also brought makeup and apparently a magic hair dryer? I don’t know what the feck that is, but it’s all in the bathroom.”

Our mutual friend is nocturnal and as soon as the show ended at Rouge, he answered my call and jumped at the opportunity. He loves to do this shite and already knows Lacey’s style. Not to mention the fact that the second she name-drops him in a post, his mobile will blow up with celebrities and A-listers wanting him to fill their closets.

While she browses, I check underneath the fabric covering my wound. Her marks are raw and pink where she tore into me, but there’s no new blood, so I untie it. I wait to confirm the bleeding has stopped before tossing the towel into the trash bin. Unfortunately, I’ve found that no matter how many times I wash it, blood doesn’t come out of the crisp white cotton.

“Wow, Kian. He did an excellent job. I had no idea he was into fashion. Why didn’t he tell me?”

I shrug. “He’s shy sometimes.”

Tolie might not be Garde, but his secrets are safe with me. I won’t tell her that my best friend hasn’t yet figured out that he’s trapped in the same destructive loop that held me captive for so long. It was much easier to haul myself out of the Las Vegas underworld once I found my purpose. Hopefully when he finds his, it’ll help set him on the right path, like it did me. Sᴇaʀ*ᴄh the (F)indNƟvᴇl.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

“Well, you better have paid him. And the shop owners. It had to be a pain in the ass to be woken in the middle of the night like that.”

“Of course I paid everyone, plus extra for their discretion.” I scoff and tug the drying strands of my hair in frustration. “Do you really think so little of me?”

“Do you really think so little of me that you’d believe I would be thankful for anything you do after the shit you’ve put me through?”

“Goddammit, Lacey. You’re hard to please, you know that? Most women would kill to have a closet filled with designer clothes. Most Garde women would be kneeling at my cock in thanks right now.”

Jealousy flashes over her face, but it disappears when she snorts.

“You obviously don’t know ‘most women’ then. Most women wouldn’t be grateful if their kidnapper filled their cage with shiny objects to distract them. I’m not a fucking bird.” She pauses in front of a white dress and holds up one of its sparkling, sheer sleeves with interest before she remembers herself and glares at me again. “Am I supposed to be impressed by this? I couldn’t care less. You have more money than God. A little Alexander McQueen and Chanel are a drop in the bucket.”

Her scorn stings more than I’d like to admit.

“Alright then, what kind of gifts do you like, my wee Garde princess? A pound of flesh for the Red Camellia perhaps?” I cross my arms, letting her see the punctures her angry teeth dug into my forearm. I’m quite proud of the mark my tine gave me, but she winces as her eyes flicker across it. Though they linger on my biceps and chest, she snaps out of it before I can tease her.

When she meets my gaze, mischief glints in her eyes and my pulse skips.

“Well, the last gift I got was a coupon book to hang out anytime I want.”

The burst of laughter from my chest makes her jump. “What, did you get that from a five-year-old? Was it in crayon on construction paper too?”

“No.” Her jaw sets and she juts her chin at me. “It was from someone special.”

“Who?” My voice is sharper than I intended. Heat flares along my neck and cheeks.

She shivers and pulls the towel around her breasts tighter before crossing her arms over her chest, no doubt to cover where her nipples have begun to poke through the cloth.

“I’m not telling you. Wouldn’t want you to swing around that big dick energy that you’re so proud of and smack them with it.”

“Whether you tell me or not, I’ll figure it out. But right now, as much as I love verbally sparring with my new wife, we need to talk. Sit on the bed. You don’t mind if I pick out your clothes for you since you’re so unimpressed by them anyway, right?”

“Go ahead. It’ll help me learn what kind of over-the-top billionaire playboy you are. Would you want your wife to dress like a nun or show off my assets? There’s no in-between for guys like you.”

My brow rises.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, you know me so well, do you? How about you sit and quit fighting me for a moment and we can actually get to know one another. It’s either that or I throw all the clothes that you allegedly couldn’t give a rat’s arse about into the Bellagio fountain and have you walk around here naked for the rest of our days.”

She harrumphs but stomps to the bed and sits. No one ever fecking challenges me like this and I love that she’s feisty enough to play with me. But the day is getting long, I’m no closer to answers than I was this morning, and I’ve fallen into more questions.

“Grand, now tell me. Why was it so important for you to marry Monroe?”

Her shoulders tense, but she’s not fighting me yet, so it’s progress.

I risk going inside the walk-in closet to get dressed and pray that I can trust my wife not to have devised a plan to murder me by the time I come back out. Tossing my towel into the laundry basket for my housekeeper, I make a mental note to call for a cleanup crew. I’ll have to pay them triple, plus hush money, to have them tidy the mess in the living room. I can’t have the whole hotel knowing my brand-new wife threw a tantrum.

I can’t have the whole hotel knowing about her at all…

My father wants us to keep our marriage quiet for the time being, but the mere thought makes my chest ache. I don’t want to go along with that plan, but depending on how much Lacey is willing to divulge, he might have the right idea. If I have to pretend like we’re not married, though, then the least I can do is make sure she’s wearing white.

I find the dress she lingered on earlier. She may insist on being stubborn, but I could tell she loves it, so I set that outfit aside and push those other thoughts out of my mind..

With her taken care of, I put on a pair of boxer briefs, black slacks, and a black dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to show off Lacey’s teeth marks. I forgo buttoning it, though. My wife has a thing for my tattooed pecs and abs and I get a thrill whenever I see that hunger in her gaze.

“I don’t hear any answers!” Her defeated sigh outside the open door is barely audible with all the fabric around me muffling it. “Tell me the real reason why you were engaged to Monroe.”

When I emerge with a white bra, heels, and the Alexander McQueen dress she taunted me about, she’s miraculously still sitting on the bed. Resolve has thinned her lips into a determined line and she nods once before meeting my gaze.

“When your family broke the engagement after my father was arrested, Monroe was the only one to step up and say he wanted to marry me.”

My head spins at the accusation. “That’s a load of shite.”

She scoffs. “Which part? The ‘your family thinks mine is scum because my dad was falsely accused’ part? Or the ‘no one wanted me’ part?”

“Both actually. Whoever told you no one wanted you was a fool. And the first part is also a lie. The McKennons didn’t break off the engagement.”

“Kian, what’s the point of lying? I know, okay. My dad told me. You, or your family, backed out when we needed you most because you didn’t want to associate with a criminal—”

A laugh bursts from my chest and her round cheeks pinken with anger. “Don’t laugh at me!”

“I’m not laughing at you, but don’t you hear how fecking ridiculous that sounds? Everyone in the Garde is a criminal. Some of us more than most, but your dad got popped for doing the exact same shite the rest of us have done. Hell, if the rumors are true, O’Shea might not have even done it.”

Her eyes brighten. “Do you think he was framed, too?”

“I don’t know whether he’s been framed or not, but what I do know?” I lay the clothes on the bed beside her before locking my gaze with hers. “My family didn’t break off the engagement, tine. Yours did.”

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