All Chapters of Unholy Matrimony: Chapter 101 - Chapter 110

EveThere are a thousand ways to kill a man.Dominik prefers the immediate, visceral methods. A bullet to the chest. A knife to the throat. The snap of a neck. It’s clean, it’s honest, and it sends a message that echoes in the streets.My methods are quieter.They don't leave blood on the carpet, but they leave a stain that never washes out.I sit across from Gavin Thorne in the private dining room of Gallaghers, watching him chew a piece of medium-rare ribeye with an arrogance that makes my skin crawl.Thorne is new money. Tech money. He wears a t-shirt under a blazer that costs more than good sense should ever allow, and he has the restless, twitchy energy of a man who thinks he’s the smartest person in the room because he knows how to code.He’s using Grimaldi shipping containers to move "off-market" hardware. High-end processors that are strictly regulated. Dominik has allowed it because the cut is generous and the risk, until now, has been minimal.But Thorne is getting greedy."

EveThe sun is being unnecessarily aggressive today.It pours through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the breakfast nook, glinting off the marble countertops and the stainless steel appliances with a brightness that feels accusatory.I stand in the doorway, blinking against the light, wearing one of Dominik’s shirts. It hangs to mid-thigh, the sleeves rolled up to my elbows, smelling of expensive cologne and the dangerous, distracting scent that’s all him.It should feel like a walk of shame. After yesterday in the elevator, after the sensory deprivation and my complete and absolute surrender in The Vault, I expected to feel wrecked. I expected to wake up feeling like a shell that had been hollowed out and refilled with his darkness.Instead, I feel soft around the edges. Languorous and satisfied.My body aches, yes. There’s a delicious, lingering soreness in my muscles, a heavy throb between my legs that reminds me with every step of exactly how thoroughly I was claimed. But my mind

EveThe privacy partition is up, but I’m pretty sure Enzo can still hear the sound of expensive silk tearing.Dominik doesn't even wait until we’re on the highway. We’re barely two blocks away from the Met, weaving through the late-night Manhattan traffic, and he’s already made good on his promise to ruin my dress."Dominik," I gasp, my head falling back against the leather headrest as his mouth devours the slope of my neck. "Enzo.""He’s deaf," Dominik growls against my skin, his hand sliding up my thigh, gripping the strap of my thong and snapping it. "If he knows what’s good for him."The gown that cost more than my college tuition, is currently bunched around my waist. The zipper gave up the ghost somewhere around 5th Avenue, surrendering to Dominik’s brute force.I don't care.The adrenaline from the gala is still coursing through my veins, hot and electric. I feel high. I feel invincible. The look on Arthur Sterling’s face when I gutted him with a smile is burned into my retinas

DominikI don't walk in Midtown as a general rule.It’s inefficient. It’s crowded. It’s a sensory nightmare of tourists stopping in the middle of the sidewalk to gawk at skyscrapers, bike messengers with a death wish, and the pervasive, sour smell of hot garbage roasting on asphalt.I have a fleet of armored SUVs. I have drivers trained in evasive maneuvers. I have a helicopter on standby at the heliport three blocks away.And yet, here I am, stalking down Fifth Avenue like a man looking for a fight, my security detail trailing a discreet twenty feet behind, looking stressed.I needed the air.Or maybe I just needed to get away from the silence in my own office.The silence that Eve left behind.It’s been three days. Three days since the morning in the kitchen where I made the mistake of touching her cheek with something other than possession, and she recoiled as if I’d held a lighter to her skin.Three days since I repeated the crime of caring, whispering to her in Italian after fuck

DominikThe house feels wrong.It’s the first thing I notice when I step through the heavy oak doors. Eve left work before me and when she’s here, I can usually catch a trace of her perfume. Her shampoo. The electric charge of her presence that seems to vibrate through the floorboards even when she’s three rooms away.Tonight, it feels empty. Like a museum after closing hours."Eve?"My voice echoes in the cavernous foyer. It bounces off the marble and the vaulted ceiling, returning to me unanswered.I check my watch. Seven-thirty.She should be here. Maybe she’s in her office, going over the shipping routes for the new Hong Kong contract. Or in the kitchen, harassing Luciana for a taste of the risotto. Or in the gym, punishing the heavy bag for whatever perceived sins I committed against her earlier in the day.Somehow, I already know she’s not in any of these places, but I check anyway. Finding all of them empty.There’s no need to panic, she could be at the shooting range. Or she