Chapter 38: : Chapter 38

She’s drunk. And I think my mother likes her. I basically carry my soon-to-be wife to the car and close the door behind her once I’ve deposited her in the passenger seat.

My mother is waving at Jewel, who gives her a thumbs up, and she can’t help but laugh. “She’s really nervous about this wedding, isn’t she?”

I freeze at my mother’s insight. I hope she thinks it’s only premarital jitters and has nothing to do with the level of intensity that it actually is.

“Marrying into a powerful family has its challenges,” she elaborates. “But I see the way you two look at each other. The way she challenges you? I’ve never seen someone keep you on your toes like that before. Having a family welcome her in might be overwhelming for her, though, so make sure you support her every step of the way. Be nice.”

“I’m always nice,” I say defensively, and she gives me a yeah, sure look.

“You only get one chance at this.”

“You had two chances,” I remind her.

She smiles in memory at that. “I literally shot your father in the leg right in front of his mother and then ran from the chapel. Let’s just say the second time, when we officially married, she wasn’t so keen on me. But she respected me.”

“Are you giving Jewel permission to shoot me in the leg?”

“No, but at the very least, I hope she gives you hell to keep you in line.” She smirks. “I really like her. She’s lovely, but she isn’t used to this. You’ll be the only family she has. Don’t take that honor for granted.”

I already knew that. I know when she gets overwhelmed. I see her nervous habits, for example, when she bites at the skin around her nails.

I look over at Jewel, who’s scrolling through her phone. Her feet are on my dashboard, and I feel my left eye twitch. I know all of these things, but I didn’t care about them before. Now, there’s a sliver of guilt because she’s becoming a multifaceted person to me. Not just a pawn. Not just a toy.

My phone starts ringing in my pocket, and I know who it is without looking. It’s Michelle, angry I canceled our regular meetups. She’s been calling every day. And every day, I don’t answer.

My mother taps on the window, and Jewel lowers it. “Make sure my son gets you some dinner on the way home.”

Jewel hiccups with a smile and somberly says, “You’re a good mom. I wish I had you as a mom.”

My mother cups her cheek. “You’re already a part of the family, dear.” Then she turns to me. “Put her to bed and make sure she drinks plenty of water.” With that last piece of advice, she heads toward her own car. I wait until she’s gone before I get into mine.

“You. You are a piece of fucking shit,” Jewel says with her eyes closed, head leaning back against the headrest.

“Tell me what you really think,” I tease, and her eyelids pop open. She swings her head to the side to face me.

“I did, or are you stupid as well?” I can’t help the smirk that fights to break out on my lips as I start the car. “I had too much to drink. I hate marriage, and I hate you.”

“I know, Kitten. I know,” I soothe as I wrap my hand over her knee. She grumbles in complaint as two of her fingers hook around one of mine. When I look over at her again, her eyes are closed, and she appears to be sleeping. She really didn’t get any sleep last night, but it is most likely up to God knows what.

She sleeps the entire drive back to her apartment. It’s not until I pull over that her eyes open in surprise, and her hand leaves mine.

Turning off the car, I get out and make my way around the car to her door. Opening it, she attempts to unclip her seat belt but fails and throws her hands in the air. “Now you’re trying to trap me in this car too.”

Leaning over her, I unbuckle the seat belt, and as I do, I can feel her death glare on the side of my head. Having a woman stare at me with such hatred is not something I can say I’m used to. And it actually makes me want to laugh.

“You’re free,” I say, sweeping my hand toward her apartment building. She huffs before she gets out and walks straight past me to the entrance. I shut the car door and follow her as she stumbles her way inside. I carry the half-finished burger and fries I stopped to buy her. I try not to laugh as she struggles to unlock her door. Growling, she throws the key at the door and rests her head against the wall. “Need a hand?” I offer, my amusement clear in my voice. She scowls at me.

Here she is, a woman with precise aim—probably better than any of my men—and she’s angry she can’t get a key in a lock.

It’s comical, really.

She flips me off but doesn’t reject my offer. She stands to the side and takes the bag of food from me as I bend down to pick up her keys and unlock the door. When I open it, she’s elbow-deep in the bag again, pulling out fries.

She steps past me and tries her hardest to walk in a straight line to her room.

Her roommate doesn’t seem to be home. I close the apartment door and go to the kitchen to grab her a glass of water. When I reach her room, I can hear her swearing under her breath. Somehow, she’s gotten tangled in her dress. I can’t take my eyes off drunk Jewel for a second. I chuckle as I put the water on the bedside table and then drop to my knees as she sits on the bed, now trying to undo her boots.

“Let me help,” I say. I move her hand from her boot, unzipping and removing them both. She slides up the bed, dragging the fries with her and eating some more. “Drink the water,” I tell her.

“Fuck you,” she says but does as she’s told. I chuckle.

“I’m not opposed to it.” I look up and wink at her. She finishes the glass of water and then splays out on the bed. It’s not long before a soft snore leaves her.

Clearly, she cannot handle her alcohol.

Standing up, I pick her up and put her comfortably on the bed so she doesn’t complain about a sore back or neck the next day. My cock swells as my gaze roams down her figure. She’s only wearing her bra and underwear. I feel bad for the mess I left behind on her, so I go to her bathroom and wet a towel.

I clean up the mixture of blood and cum from her skin.

I don’t feel bad lying to my parents, but I am starting to notice how perfectly this little she-devil might fit into my life. That thought becomes uncomfortable because just as I feel like I’m getting my fill of this woman, I’m yearning for more. I can’t get her out of my head or my bloodstream, which might be turning into a weakness.

She turns over in her sleep, reaching for her pillow and hugging it tight.

She is beautiful. Stunning, really.

And then she starts to snore again.