The Husband Beside Me(22)

“Bullshit!” He stopped walking and glared at me. “I’ve watched you and seen the food in the fridge; you haven’t eaten a fucking thing,” he snapped. “I honestly don’t know what your problem is, but get over yourself, because this isn’t the Addie I paid for. I paid for the Addie, who is a fighter and a survivor, not you who lounges around moping that I was trying to get a blow job. The Addie I know would have ripped me a new one and handed it on a plate for me to eat,” he barked.

“It’s your fucking fault I’m like this, so fuck off already. I’ll get over it and move on. To someone much better, I assure you,” I hissed and began walking away. I heard Daimon chuckling from behind me. He was so infuriating. It was impossible for me to go one day without having a fight with him.

The tall trees that lined the walkway were barren and black; their branches stretched out, curled and curved as they spread wide. The gentle snowfall was covering them with a fresh canvas of untouched snow. I was too taken in by all that was around me to notice Daimon was next to me watching me.

“What is it now?” I asked, exasperated.

“Nothing. Just like watching you,” he shrugged.

“Why? I’m not that good to look at.”

“You’re okay. Not Miss Universe, but still, you’re easy on the eyes,” he winked.

“Screw off, Daimon,” I said, narrowing my eyes.

“You keep saying that, but you don’t mean it,” he said with a devilish grin, but before I could retort, he took my free hand and pulled me to a food cart.

“I told you to stop doing that,” I hissed, but was obviously ignored.

“Two organic chicken sausages on a whole wheat bun with mustard,” Daimon ordered from the lady at the organic food cart. She quickly went at it and handed over the food. Daimon took them and gave them to me. “Here take.”

“Hold on a minute.” I put down my hot chocolate and held onto the food. He reached into his pocket, took out twenty dollars and told her to keep the change.

“I didn’t realize you were hungry. Why didn’t we go eat then?” I asked handing him the food.

“One is for me, the other is for you.” He took one and began eating it.

“Let me get this straight. You brought me to Central Park to get an organic, may I add, sausage, instead of going out to eat real food?” I watched him carefully as he kept eating. He finished his bite and smiled.

“What? You married a billionaire and now you want to go to the fancy places. My, my, Addie, we have grown.”

“That’s not what I meant by it,” I nearly shouted.

“Look, it’s your fault I’m poor now. I literally paid an arm and a leg for you. You think you were cheap? Trust me, you weren’t.” He then bit into the rest of his sausage.

I felt the warm food in my hand and my appetite seemed to come back. I licked my lips anticipating the first bite of real food in days. Once I bit into it, my stomach cried out for more. I ate it within seconds.

“I like a girl who knows her way around a good sausage,” Daimon laughed. I couldn’t help, but laugh at little. Not to make him feel like he had gotten to me, I continued our walk.

“You went at it like you needed it,” Daimon continued. “Damn, Addie, I wonder how you’re going to suck me off,” Daimon smirked; his comment stopped me in my tracks.

“If I could, I would slap you every single day we are married,” I stated.

“Who knows, Addie, I might like that. That kind of hot foreplay might just do it for me.” He smiled from ear-to-ear.

“You seriously have no idea how to talk to a woman. How the hell did you ever get one?” It was a serious question. His smart-mouth, inappropriate comments were all that seemed to come out of his mouth.

“Easy. Money, not to mention, my devilishly handsome looks and this awesome body,” he grinned.

“You’re impossible.”

“I try. Come on. I have somewhere else I want to take you.” He nudged his head toward the town car that was now parked near us.

“See? I didn’t pull you this time.”

Daimon opened the car door for me, but I bit my tongue not to say thank you.

“What, no thanks? You told Charlie thank you.”

“You told me not to,” I shrugged.

We drove for about twenty minutes and then stopped in front of an old-looking townhouse.

Daimon helped me out of the car and led me down the steps to a black door. Underneath the light was a golden plaque that read:

THE RAINES LAW ROOM

Please ring the bell

Someone will attend to you

Daimon rang the bell and someone came shortly afterwards.

“Mr. Evans, come this way, your usual spot has been reserved. You may head to the back of the bar,” said a man who was dressed in old-school bartender getup as he extended his hand.