Sold To My Husband

Chapter Five

Rory's POV

The phone was snatched from me before I could say another word, and I looked up at a pair of silvery blue eyes.

"They're not allowed to make calls, don't you know that," he said, handing the phone to its owner without sparing me a glance.

I ran my eyes down his body, standing up to talk to him, and realized that even on my tiptoes, I didn't measure up to his shoulders.

"She insisted that she had a call to make to have the loan paid," The man in the black suit replied, and he stared down at the man, hissing at his words.

He was wearing a black suit as well, but he was decorated by the power he exuded as he looked put together, his tall, muscular frame encased in his suit and loosened tie, with his abs evident against his white shirt plastered down to his torso, and his hair wet as though he was unaliving someone and had personally come to oversee and take my life with looks like death warming over him.

"You should learn not to stare so much, peaches," he said, his voice laced with amusement, darting his eyes at the men in the room.

My body shook at the name— peaches; it was my mother's nickname for me, and only she used that.

"Her name is Rory, Rory Bellini, Mr. Angelo," his men corrected, but he shook and rolled his eyes in the most seducing way I'd ever seen.

"I call her whatever I want," he gruffed, and the man bowed in correction.

I wanted to ask where he'd learned the name Peaches from, that was private—intimate.

I shook my head, taking extra caution to the fact that I was barefooted and my skin was prickling with goosebumps when a sharp cry broke through the silence in the room.

"I have my house, take my house, I'm going to make sure I repay your money..." The sharp familiar voice made my spine shiver.

"That's my husband; I need to talk to him," I yelled, trying to run to him, but I was held back by him. He gripped my hands, pulling me to his sturdy chest, hard but careful, and I could have sworn I saw a flicker of something in his eyes as he held me from wriggling out of his hold to meet Max.

"You make another move, peaches, and I'll have your so-called husband's head brought here instead of his crying body," he said, and I stilled, in his arms, feeling the warmth of his hands on the little space it covered.

Max was dragged into the room in a short and nothing else.

"We found him in a woman's house," the men who brought him announced, and I felt my heart tighten.

"Your husband peaches?" He said, his voice a quiet mockery, as my fingers clenched, making sure I heard the news of where he was found when Max's eyes met mine.

"Rory? What are you doing here? I trust that you're here to plead with him, Rory, just try to make them understand that we'll pay... they can take the house," he yelled desperately, trying to get up from his knees.

He was kicked back to the ground with a sharp cry.

"Trade your husband for me, peaches," he said, his blue eyes piercing through mine before darting off like he said nothing.

"You know the deal, Mr Bellini, the money or your life," he asked, his voice a thousand folds colder than it was when he spoke to me.

Max darted a look at me, his eyes carrying the truth that I hated to know.

To die for his debt...

"Kill him," he said, not batting even an eyelid.

"No, please, you cannot let that happen, please," I begged, almost falling to my knees.

"One knee of yours on the ground, and I'll make sure he's crippled forever," he said, enunciating his lethalness with each word.

I stood back up and watched him take a seat, pulling me down after him.

"Shall we make a little deal, Mr Bellini?" He asked, a wicked smile spread on his face.

"Anything, I'll do anything," Max begged, crawling closer.

"You sign the divorce papers of your wife and have her marry me right at this moment in exchange for the million dollars that you owe me," Angelo said, and I felt my body stiffen on the chair.

Max stared at me, his eyes darting between me and my captor.

"It's not an empty joke, Mr. Bellini, it's an offer of a lifetime if I'd say, you get a lot as benefit, or aren't you willing to continue that little thing you've got going on with your mistress," the man said again, pitching me like I was some commodity.

"I'll pay the money, Mr."

"Rafe peaches, call me Rafe," he corrected, but I shook my head in refusal.

"I'm not going to be pawned off by you because you want to buy me, this is not a Flesh market!" I yelled, my voice laced with all sorts of emotions.

"Let's get this done over with Mr. Bellini; the offer is going at 1...2..."

"Done! I agree," Max said, making the tear that I'd been holding drip on my face.

"You've got no choice, peaches, marry me, or I have the man who sold you in a breath that you claim to be your husband killed, he said, holding his hands to play with the curls of my hair.

Max shook his head vehemently, his eyes pleading that I would get married to the man who stood in front of me.

"I—I cannot," I shook my head, and the tears that brimmed in my eyes.

"Kill him then, you're free to go," he said, and I watched his men c**k their guns to shoot.

"Rafe... Please," I begged, grabbing his arms.

"You have the choice laid out in front of you, peaches; his life is in your hands," he said, and I closed my eyes, heaving a sigh.

"I'll do it," I muttered as low as I could, and I could have sworn I saw a smile on his face.

"Bring the papers," he ordered, and in a jiffy, a divorce and new marriage certificate were placed in front of me.

I signed both at the same time, tearing uncontrollably at the unknown place I'd sold myself to.

"Welcome home wife, Mrs. Rory Rafe Angelo," he said, chuckling as he walked away with our marriage certificate.

And I turned a look to Max, who was jubilating at his prospect, and a resolve hardening in my mind.

I was going to make sure he felt the pain I felt, inch by inch, a billion times harder.