You Don't Own Me(117)

A look crosses his face. ‘All right. Just remember you started this.’

He looks around and catches the eye of the most attractive waitress in the restaurant and lifts his eyebrow. When she comes to him he gives her a slow smile and asks if she could bring a bottle of their best champagne.

She trots off and he smiles pleasantly at me. I am determined not to react so I smile back.

When she returns, totally ignoring me, he blatantly begins to flirt and laugh with her, blatantly. My blood begins to boil. Yes, it’s true I did flirt with the waiter, but only lightly. He, on the other hand, was almost stripping her naked with his eyes.

At first I try my best not to show how furious I am. I tell myself that he’s doing it deliberately. It’s not like he truly wants her. He’s just punishing me. I briefly toy with the idea of calling the waiter back and flirting in exactly the same way with him. See who cracks first. But I don’t actually want to seriously flirt with another man on my honeymoon.

I could have held on and sat it out with my frozen smile if the quick-eyed slut had not given me a look that was at once pitying and triumphant. A look that said, hey, you’re a fool. Can’t you see what your man is doing? How totally into me he is?

Humiliated, I stand up. I don’t have the car keys. Not that it matters. I wouldn’t dare drive the powerful Maserati he has rented, especially on unfamiliar roads. Fuck him, I would rather walk the five miles back to the palazzo than stay here another second. Both of them turn to look at me. She seems glad that I might be leaving.

‘Going somewhere, babe?’ BJ asks sweetly.

‘Nowhere that concerns you,’ I answer with equal sweetness, and walk out of the restaurant.

Outside, I pause for a moment at the entrance. I am so angry I want to scream. How dare he behave like that on our honeymoon. I start walking fast in the direction we had come from. Fortunately, I am wearing flat sandals. I must have gone 20 yards before I hear the Maserati’s engine idling along beside me.

‘Need a lift somewhere?’

‘What? Not taking your tart back with you?’ I say huffily.

‘Well, well, look who’s all jealous?’ His voice is rich with laughter.

His mirth irritates me. ‘There is a difference between what I was doing and what you were engaging in! I was being polite and you were fucking her with your eyes.’

He laughs. His laughter is like smoke and silk. ‘It’ll take us forever to reach the palazzo at this rate.’

Even though the forecast called for a thunderstorm tonight, I am not prepared for the downpour that begins with large drops of hot rain that smells of dust. A couple fall on my head.

‘Get in, Layla,’ BJ says, his voice silky.

This time I open the door and get in, but I am determined to make him suffer for the humiliation he caused at the restaurant. I am going to give him the silent treatment.





THIRTY




BJ

I steal a sidelong glance at her. She was cute in the restaurant when she was acting all unconcerned while she was burning up with fury inside, but now that she is radiating waves of don’t-touch-me she’s smoking hot. It reminds me of what she used to be like. Having it inside this car with the smell of the thunderstorm raging outside, it’s as sexy as hell.

I need to fuck my new wife.

Through the lashing rain I suddenly see it coming up ahead, a forest. This is it, real freedom, a centuries’ old, living, breathing, magical wonderment. Sometimes we need to let go of life’s shackles and find oneness with nature. Feeling reckless, my dick steering the vehicle, I veer off the motorway and head down a winding country lane. I don’t need to look at Layla to know she is staring at me with narrowed eyes.

‘Why the hell have you left the motorway?’ she asks with a scowl.

‘There’s something I’ve always wanted to do,’ I reply.

She stares at the rain lashing down on the windshield, the continuous streak left by the wipers. ‘Well, whatever it is, count me out. I’m not going out in that rain.’ she says in her best Ice Queen tone.

Excitement surges through my veins. I say nothing. Just stop the car, then make my way around to Layla’s window.

I stand outside for moment, eyes focused on her. The gesticulation of her hands and exaggerated facial expression clearly indicate that she thinks I’m a raving fucking lunatic.

‘It’s bloody pouring,’ she shouts, her voice barely audible.

I swipe at the water streaming down my face. Yeah, like I hadn’t fucking noticed.

‘If you don’t get out now, I’ll drag you the fuck out.’’

Her mouth drops open. A look flares through her eyes. I know that look too well. She’s going to fucking lock me out. Before she has time to react, my hand is on the handle and the door is open. I grab her and haul her out while she struggles like a wildcat.