Seducing My Husband's Brother

Demonietto

PURITY

••••••••••

Rue Royal Reigns—that's whom.

That's whom I have to thank for the ease with which I pulled grumpy old Rex to the House of Ruin, formerly the House of Rue, but s**t happened.

It's the love he has for his dead wife that would have him retching anytime he sees a woman being treated badly—the same reason why he rushed over when I explained to him my situation, and how 'devastated' I was that Ryat won't give our marriage a chance.

I do not know much about her since Ryat would rather not speak, Raya never knew her, and Ryan... well, I'm not close enough to Ryan to get such information from him, but he did mention her once back in Mexico.

Only Rex ever speaks so much of her, but so little at the same time. Talking about how sweet and intelligent his dear wife was, but never going too deep. I guess he tries to keep her alive in his memories and through his words, but going deeper hurts him still.

How ever a beautiful soul as described to be Rue ended up birthing a monster like Ryat is beyond me.

Demonietto.

I always wondered why Rex nicknamed his son that. Well, I f****d around, and I found out.

Inhaling deeply, I run my palms along the length of my dress, gingerly ascending the flight of no more than five stairs along the way to my room.

Ryan had explained his reasons for declaring that the divorce won't be happening as taking good measures towards preventing future conflicts, but I call that bullshit.

He did it because he wouldn't—not couldn't—go against his father.

Ryan might be Don, but Rex remains his father still.

From the little I know, after Rue's body was found on the train tracks, Rex completely lost it.

He fell deep in grief, and when he finally gathered himself? He painted the city with the blood of those whom he thought were behind his misery—an action that young Ryan had to intervene with since Rex was winning them more enemies than they could bear to keep. One such enemy is whispered to be the Mexican cartel.

The cold sips in through my palm, settling in my hand with a certain sweet feel, but I delay in turning the knob, the commotion from within the room disrupting the calm of my mind.

"Bang!"

I flinch back, the sound reverberating through the soundproof door. What exactly is happening?

My wrist moves, twisting and turning the knob to unjam the door.

As I step into my room, the sight that welcomes me is the upturned situation it's in.

"What's this?" My voice is hard as rock, my breaths raging through the tiny holes of my nose.

Ryat—who had stopped throwing my things around the moment I stepped in—takes two tiny steps towards me. "What does it look like, dear wife?"

My teeth press against each other, grinding, but I practice some breathing therapy. Fighting with him would be giving him exactly what he wants. I'm not one to give people what they want. "Like you missed your way to the nursery?"

His eyes dilate, and I see the veins pop on the side of his head. He tries to speak, but is dumbstruck—an effect of control.

Ignoring him, I walk in the opposite direction, my eyes sweeping the floor, taking in the damage.

My huge, gold-framed mirror is completely shattered—that one was a gift from Rex. My makeup now beautifies the tiled floors in an array of red, matte, nude, red, glitters, and did I mention red?

Anyhoo, those are easily replaceable, so I keep going. The next damage I notice is the one done to my wardrobe. Everything inside is poured out, some dresses torn, others just randomly sitting on the floor, some thrown further than the others. I heave, stiffening my knuckles so my fingers don't curl into fists.

Finally, I reach the head of the bed and lower myself onto it, but jump just as soon as my ass connects with the mattress.

"¡Joder!" I curse underneath my breath, furiously dabbing my butt. The residue of liquid clings to my palm like second skin, wet and annoying.

Okay, this motherfucker is sure as hell out of his damn mind.

My eyes shoot to him, and I'm pissed at the micro smirk on his silly face. It would have been a much better outcome if Ryan was the one who took their father's face instead of this buffoon.

"You like what I did here?" He spreads out his hands, turning his neck like some hero who has achieved a great feat.

"Very much." My response is curt—sharp.

That frown returns to his forehead, but I do not even care to revel in it.

I'd kill him if I could. Really, I would. But Rex would probably be the first to hunt me the f**k down, then Ryan finishes me off?

Ryat is treated like some special kid, and maybe that's why he never grew past that stage. It's crazy how he evokes fear in the hearts of the Reigns rivals, because if I was standing in a ring and Ryat was standing opposite me, I'd burst into laughter.

Just the thought stretches my lips into a little smile, almost like the foolishness he just performed here really doesn't affect me.

"You are leaving now!" His voice booms across the room, pulling me from within the safe cocoon of my mind.

Yeah, I forgot to mention how—since he couldn't get the divorce he so much desired—he declared that he'd keep me as a prisoner instead of a wife.

Something about locking me up in his penthouse apartment up in Chelsea.

I protested, of course I did, but neither Ryan nor Rex could do anything about it. It's the little they could allow him since he was already cornered.

Sigh!

"So you decided to help me pack, how sweet?" I bat my lashes, pouting.

"Let's go." His voice comes with a pitch-black edge, rubbing on me like bad omen.

He exits the room first, and I rush after him. "And Angelo?"

"He stays with me."

My legs stop. No, 'cause they completely stop functioning, almost like I suddenly had a stroke. You can play with me all you want, but leave my son the f**k out of it.

"Ryat!" I call after him since he wasn't attentive enough to stop when I did.

Turning his neck, his brows draw together. "What?"

"You can't keep Angelo away from me." My fists clench and unclench beside me, my heart raging against my will to stay calm.

With a swift movement of his legs, he turns, taking tentative steps back towards me.

Once he's but a few steps away, he leans in closer, his hands pinned behind him. Then, with his mouth now irrationally close to my face, he whispers, "I can, and I will."

I snap.

"Did Rex agree with this?" My voice is a rumble.

"He doesn't need to agree." He pulls away, casually fixing his cufflinks.

"This wasn't part of the arrangement. We agreed you would keep me locked up anywhere that suits you, but nothing said you'd keep my son from me."

He brings his hand to my face and lightly taps on the tip of my nose with a finger. "Precisely! We didn't address that part, so I have the liberty to decide."

No, you don't!

I don't even bother to indulge him as I storm away, heading for Ryan wherever he may be.

Rex might enjoy me, but he's really short-tempered. There's a limit to how much I can disturb him. That leaves me with Ryan—he's the only one who can stop this madness now.