BREAKFAST AS A WIFE
1019 Words
Mandy woke up alone.
The bed beside her was cold. Impossibly cold, like he hadn’t been in it at all.
She sat up fast, hair everywhere, lips still swollen from last night. The mansion was quiet. Too quiet.
On the nightstand: a glass of water. A folded black shirt. His.
No note. No Rodrick.
“Coward,” she muttered.
But her fingers picked up the shirt anyway. It smelled like him. Smoke. Soap. Something expensive and dangerous.
*House Rule #11:* She made it up herself. _Don’t think about him shirtless at 6am._
She broke it in 3 seconds.
Downstairs, the kitchen smelled like coffee and something she couldn’t name. Elise was gone. No staff. Just him.
Rodrick stood at the counter, back to her. And he was shirtless again.
Mafia men didn’t get to be this unfair.
Black sweatpants low on his hips. Scars in the morning light. He was plating eggs like he owned every kitchen in the world.
“Morning,” he said, without turning.
Mandy froze in the doorway. “You sleep?”
“Not in the bed.” He slid a plate across the marble. “Eat.”
Rule #1: You eat with me.
She sat. Didn’t touch the food. “You left.”
“I didn’t touch you,” he corrected. Finally looked at her. Eyes bloodshot. Jaw tight. “That’s different.”
The air between them was different too. Last night was fire. This morning was gasoline.
He pushed coffee toward her. Black. No sugar. “You like it sweet?”
“No.” She took it. Their fingers brushed.
Neither of them pulled back fast enough.
Rodrick’s eyes dropped to her mouth. Then back up. “You taste like regret and defiance.”
Mandy took a sip just to have something to do with her mouth. “You taste like control issues.”
His mouth twitched. Almost a smile. “We’re matching.”
Silence. But it wasn’t awkward. It was charged.
He ate like a man who was used to eating alone. Fast. Efficient. Eyes on her between bites like he was counting her breaths.
“Rule number one today,” he said. “You come with me.”
“Where?”
“My office. I have calls.” He leaned back. “You sit. You watch. You don’t speak unless I tell you to.”
Mandy set her cup down hard. “I’m not a dog.”
“No,” he said quietly. “Dogs don’t make me forget my own rules.”
Her breath caught.
He stood. Grabbed a black shirt. Didn’t put it on yet. Just held it in his hands. “Coming?”
She should say no. Should say she’d rather be locked in the room.
She stood up instead.
*The Office*
Rodrick’s office was all black and steel. No photos. No softness. Just power.
He sat behind the desk. Motioned to the leather chair beside him. Not across. Beside.
Mandy sat. Her knee brushed his.
He didn’t move away.
The first call was in Italian. Sharp. Cold. He answered in the same tone, but when his eyes met hers, his voice dropped half an octave.
The second call was about money. Millions. Debts. Names she didn’t know.
The third call, he ended fast.
“Problem?” she asked before she could stop herself.
Rodrick hung up. Turned his chair to face her fully. Knees bracketing hers. “You spoke.”
“I—”
“You broke rule three.” He leaned in. “You spoke without permission.”
Mandy lifted her chin. “Punish me then.”
She didn’t mean for it to come out like that.
Rodrick went very still. “Careful, Mandy.”
“Or what? You’ll kiss me again and stop yourself?”
His jaw ticked. “Yes.”
“Liar.”
This time she was the one who leaned in.
Her hand came up. Touched his chest. Bare skin under her palm. Hot. He sucked in a breath but didn’t move.
“House rule,” she whispered. “I don’t lie either.”
And she kissed him.
It wasn’t last night’s desperation. This was deliberate. Slow. Her lips on his, asking. Taking.
Rodrick groaned like she’d punched him. His hand came up to her jaw, thumb pressing there. But he didn’t kiss her back. Not yet.
“Mandy,” he said against her mouth. Warning.
“Don’t stop,” she breathed.
And he broke.
His mouth crashed into hers. No more control. No more rules. His hands were in her hair, on her waist, pulling her onto his lap like she weighed nothing.
The chair creaked. His mouth was everywhere. Jaw. Throat. The spot behind her ear that made her gasp.
“f**k,” he muttered against her skin. “You’re going to be the death of me.”
“Good,” she whispered back.
His phone buzzed. Once. Twice. Ignored.
“Rodrick—”
“Don’t talk.” He pulled back just enough to look at her. His eyes were black. Shattered. “If you talk now, I’ll stop. And I don’t want to.”
“Then don’t.”
The door opened.
“Boss, the shipment—”
A man froze.
Rodrick didn’t even look up. His body covered hers. His hand came up, fast, and the door slammed shut.
“Out.” One word. Lethal.
Footsteps. Running.
Silence again.
Mandy was shaking. Not from fear.
Rodrick rested his forehead against hers. Breathing hard. “That’s rule twelve,” he said, voice rough. “No one sees you like this. Only me.”
He set her down. Stood up. Put his shirt on finally. Hands shaking just enough to notice.
“Office is done,” he said. “You’re with me today.”
Mandy smoothed her shirt. Lips swollen. Hair a mess. “Where?”
He walked to her. Took her hand. No asking.
“Everywhere,” he said. “Because you’re my wife. And I’m done pretending you’re not.”
The word _wife_ hit her like a slap. And a promise.
Mandy didn’t pull her hand away.
*[End Chapter 4]*
- Writer
- chap_listContents
- likeADD