My Dark Romeo: The Unputdownable Billionaire Romance

Romeo moved his things back the same day of my party.

Right after he kicked everyone out and called his bi-weekly cleaning service to “bleach the entire house, walls and ceiling included.”

I spied from my bedroom window as an army of people on his payroll wheeled his suitcases back inside. I hugged my arms, thinking about what had happened between us just hours ago.

When Romeo came in my mouth, I’d saved some of his semen under my tongue. I read somewhere that sperm could still survive in the mouth, provided it remained in its gel-like form.

It did.

When I dashed into my room to spit it into a mouthwash cup, I figured I could try to get pregnant.

But leaning against my sink, observing the white thing swimming in the small cup, something prevented me from doing it.

My morals, maybe.

I still had them, though my husband had lost his somewhere along the way.

It was sperm-stealing.

It was wrong.

And I, unfortunately, had boundaries I refused to cross.

Sure, I had no obligation to take the ethical highway. Not after everything Romeo had put me through. He’d deceived me in so many ways, so it was only fair I deceived him back.

Still, my pride wouldn’t let me conceive this way.

With spat-out semen. In a bathroom. Like a thief.

No. Romeo’s downfall would be of his own making.

I intended to break him.

The cracks were already apparent, imprinted everywhere on his behavior.

He wanted me. I knew he did.

Even if it was the last thing he needed.

As I watched my beautiful, awful husband weave through the garden, stone-faced, his phone pressed to his ear, undoubtedly discussing something work-related, I wondered what bringing him to full submission would feel like.

I was certainly going to find out.