“Do you think you can make some time in your schedule for self-defense classes?”
While pulling on my work pants, I paused, looking over at Trevor who was still in bed.
“They’d be done here, of course, and I’ll be there to supervise.”
“Is that really ne –“
“I also need to teach you how to handle a gun.
“Well –“
“And later today, I invited one of our therapists to give you a visit –“
“Trevor,” I snap, and he shuts his mouth closed, “can I speak?”
He nods.
“Is self-defense and gun handling really necessary?”
“As the wife of a mafia leader, yes.”
“Why do you call me your wife, we aren’t married,” I button my pants, and noticed that it felt a little tighter. I instantly felt the urge to put on my shirt.
I reached for my cami, and threw my blazer over it.
Trevor took my hands and
