Chapter Thirteen- The Missus

Amara’s POV

This was a far cry from the Jackson I knew, without question. There was a time I used to have to order for him when we split a pizza and now he was commanding a room with split reactions-all making him out to be intimidating. The men surrounding the medium sized table in the Spanish-style restaurant all evaded eye contact while those they chose in their arms were batting their lashes at my husband. I couldn't help but wonder if anybody here was forced into a marriage of convenience as well or if thar was simply our story. I didn't have much time to pick up on the details of distance before a specific introduction caught my attention. 

“Danielle Davenport.” Her talon nails extended as I simply stared. Jackson wrapped his arm around my waist, gently digging his nails into my hip as a way to make me behave. All it did was bring me closer to his side and painfully aware that he was dominant to a cruel advantage. 

“Jackson's wife.” I