Binding Rose: A Dark Mafia Romance

But just as the murderous thought enters my head, I banish it away.

Even though he’s cold and ruthless, I couldn’t imagine a world where he didn’t exist. Maybe I’m being na?ve, or just downright stupid, but Tiernan brings out something in me that I never knew was there. A flame that burns so bright, that I fear one day I’ll be consumed by it and turn to ash.

Logic tells me I shouldn’t feel this way. That even Icarus perished by trying to fly too close to the sun. But logic and sense had no hand in the deal I made with him either, so I fear I’m no longer capable of rational thought when it pertains to my husband.

After I’ve made sure the birria de chivo is up to par, I put on a sleek white sleeveless dress and put my hair up to accentuate my long neck. I know it’s not exactly proper attire to be wearing for dinner at home, but I doubt I’ll ever use it on an actual dinner date to a fancy restaurant. Tiernan is perfectly content to keep me under lock and key.

After finding some matches to set-up the candlelight dinner I’ve prepared, I stand back and admire my handiwork, fully knowing Tiernan will disapprove of the romantic setting.

Let him.

This is more for me than it is for him.

I wasn’t lying when I said I was tired of eating my meals alone. Back home, even when everyone was running around busy with their lives, we always made it a point to have at least one meal together. I miss that familial comradery more than I want to be wooed by my husband.

If I’m honest, the only reason why I even went to such an effort to make this dinner extra romantic was because I knew it would piss Tiernan off. And getting under his skin has become something of an addiction to me. I feed off it just as much as my humiliation seems to satiate Tiernan’s hunger.

I’m at my seat, one long leg crossed over the other, when the elevator doors open at eight on the dot.

Say what you will about my husband, but the man sure is a sucker for being punctual.

“Hi.”

Tiernan’s gaze takes a second to travel up my Louboutin heels, ankles, up my calves and thighs, before they even reach my eyes.

“Hmm,” he mumbles, frustrated, and inwardly I clap myself on the back for a job well done.

“Bad day?” I arch a brow.

“Getting worse by the second,” he grumbles, taking off his suit jacket and flinging it to the couch.

“That’s too bad.” I fake a smile. “Aren’t you going to ask about my day?”

“I already know how your day went,” he replies while loosening his tie.

“So you do. Still, it’s only nice to be asked anyway.”

“I don’t do nice, wife. I thought you would know that about me already.”

“You’re right, I do. I just thought you might surprise me. Only fair since I’ve managed to surprise you today.”

The malicious smirk he throws at me has me clapping with glee inside my chest.

It’s official.

The man has turned me into a lunatic with no common sense and less self-preservation.

He takes his seat across from me and pours wine into his glass. I don’t even put up a fight when he fills my glass, too.

Kellys drink, after all.

And as he constantly likes to keep reminding me, I am a Kelly now.

“So, what did Elsa cook for us tonight?”

“Not Elsa. Me. I cooked. I told her from now on she didn’t have to bother herself with that part of the job and could just focus on housework.”

“And what do I tell her when you’re no longer here to cook my meals, wife?” Tiernan says, reminding me that my time here has a countdown.

“Not my problem.”

To my chagrin, the small chuckle that leaves him warms me up.

“So, what am I about to eat?”

“Birria de Chivo. I hope you like it.”

“Do you really?” Another chuckle. “And just what is Birria de Chivo?”

“Goat stew,” I singsong.

He pales for just a split second and then laughs. A true loud and proud laugh that I would never expect a man like him capable of. It almost makes him look softer somehow.

“Well, I guess it’s only fair you give me goat to eat. I would have assumed you would rather see me starve than ever feed me, wife.”

“Everyone deserves to be fed. I’m not that heartless, husband.”

“No. You’re not,” he whispers under his breath, staring right at me.

I have to look away and bow my head towards my plate when I catch his green eye softening while his blue shines bright. When I take a forkful of the delicious stew into my mouth, Tiernan takes that as his cue to start eating.

When a few long minutes pass and neither one of us attempts to say anything, I decide to break the silence by asking a few questions that have been on my mind lately.

“Not that I’m complaining, but this apartment needs a woman’s touch to make it more inviting. Didn’t any of your previous girlfriends ever offer to decorate it for you?”

Tiernan almost chokes on his stew, grabbing his glass so the wine can help it go down smoother.

“Is this really an appropriate conversation to have over dinner?”

“Why not? You’ve never given me an inkling that you care too much about propriety anyway. I don’t see the harm in wanting to know how many women have come to your apartment before me.”

“I thought your interest was purely on its décor, not how many women I’ve fucked here.”

Of course, leave it to Tiernan to leave me tongue-tied just by the way he uses the word fuck.

“I was trying to ease into it. Forgive me if I’m not as blunt as you.”

“You’re forgiven.” He chuckles, entertained.

“Well, are you going to tell me, or are you determined to leave me in suspense?”

“I think I’ll go with the latter.” He whips out that devilish grin of his before taking another sip of his wine.

When I glare at him, it only seems to amuse him further.

“Fine. I can honestly say I have never brought a woman home. I wasn’t even sure I’d ever bring you here, and I’m married to you.”

“What changed your mind?”

His humor disappears.

“Next question, acushla.”

Sensing that I struck a nerve, I don’t pester him into giving me an answer.

“How many girlfriends did you have before marrying me then?”

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