Free 07BarteredPainThe BillionairesWifeARE by Ava Lore

 
    Bartered Pain: The Billionaire's Wife
     
    by
    Ava Lore
     
    Part VII
     
     
    The Delegate's Dining Room at the
United Nations. That's where I was standing.
    Floor to ceiling windows surrounded
us. The sun had come out from behind the clouds this morning, cascading warmth
through the glass and filling the room with light.
    “This place is huge,” I said.
    Next to me, Anton pursed his lips.
“I suppose,” he mused. “Perhaps we'll be able to fit everyone in here. I still
think Gotham Hall would be better. It has more capacity.”
    “I agree,” my mother said.
“Absolutely all our friends and acquaintances will be invited. We want to make
it the social event of the holiday season, and that means we need the most room
possible. Right, Jonathan?” She turned to my father expectantly.
    My father nodded. His face looked a
little gray at the thought of spending all the money he probably didn't even
have yet on a wedding. The freeing up of his credit would happen at the end of
the month, presumably, but until then he was betting on my mother's infamous
inability to make a decision and stick with it. It's why she had at least two
hundred pairs of shoes with 'back-ups' in a different color.
    I sighed. Already I was longing for
the intense intimacy of our Las Vegas elopement. It had been frantic and
unplanned and I had been utterly alone with Anton and two paid witnesses, but
at least I hadn't had to make ten thousand decisions I couldn't possibly care
about. Now we were scoping out reception and wedding areas, and I just wanted
to throw myself through a window.
    It'd been a week since Anton had
showed me the softer side of himself—the strong, powerful man I could lean on,
rather than the predator who stalked me and longed only to possess my body—and
each night had been strangely sweet. The only things I'd unpacked in 'my'
bedroom were my clothes and makeup. My books were still boxed, my kitchen
utensils were useless, and my bedding... well, I had yet to spend a night in my
own bed, so it seemed rather pointless to take them out.
    In our day-to-day lives, however,
it seemed like he was incapable of releasing his mask, at least in front of
other people. He blandly agreed with my mother no matter what she said, and the
rest of the time he was lost in la-la business land, no doubt wrapping up the
particulars of acquiring my father's company. I didn't mind it, really. Our
nights were enough for me at the moment. And when our nights bled into our
days... Well, that was just a bonus.
    As though he read my mind, a sudden
jolt of electricity seared through my nipples and I gasped. Warmth flooded
between my legs. Pain and pleasure were beginning to mix in my head, and my
body certainly didn't seem to mind it. I shot Anton a glare from the corner of
my eye, but he just smiled serenely at me. This was his way of showing concern
about my dysfunctional relationship with my parents: I could either endure
punishment when I thought about speaking up but didn't, or I could just speak
up, tell them to go away, and be left in peace.
    “It's not that simple,” I'd tried
to tell him this morning when we'd dressed. “These are my parents. I can't just
tell them to fuck off. My mom will be crushed if I don't have a wedding. And
what if I tell her to fuck off and then she dies? What about that?”
    He'd paused in the process of
placing the electric shock nipple clamps on my breasts, and I immediately felt
bad. He was probably thinking about his own dead parents. Great. Good going,
Felicia.
    “What you do with your life is up
to you,” he said finally. “You should talk to your mother about her illness.”
    “I can't,” I told him. “I— ooh, god—I, uh, I'm not supposed to know anything about it.” I rolled my eyes,
trying to ignore the way Anton ran his thumb over my nipple, calling it to
attention so he could get a better grip with the clamp. “Although I don't know
how much longer I can play dumb. She goes to a 'doctor's