Dutifully His | 18+

"Smile," I mouth to him–forcefully holding my bouquet, an array of colors dotting his dull day. And yes, I kidnapped him to make him mine.

Regrets? I have zero. Sadly my wedding dress has a few stains–dark and unavoidable. Blood. I know, but what can I say? I didn't have time to clean it up before getting here.

His eyes land right on the stain, which I use my finger to make him not look there.

I have been observing for the past several months, even his schedule I know to the T. I can't be the only one with a tight and jam-packed schedule, now can I?

I gesture for my henchman to come closer and he does. He leans in close to hear what I have to say. It's good that he knows his place.

"You sure you stripped of any weapons, right?" I ask, in a whisper.

"I think so," the henchman replies.

"Well, I need something better than... just your thoughts. I don't want him to attack me, you know?"

The best angle for me to use whenever possible was the 'What if I am the victim?' angle. Works like a charm.

"Yes... of course."

I was in the middle of smashing several more cop heads when my phone went off, reminding me of this important day. The priest was rambling like a hyena so I snapped my fingers. "Quickly... get me and this idiot married. I don't.. have all day."

Thankfully the rest of it went without a hitch, which meant I can get back to my violent spree. I toss the flowers over to my henchman, and look at the diamond ring and sprint to my red ferrari.

I expected him to stripped naked when I got home late into the night. 1 am. It is my home so I can get home when I please. My dress is now fully soaked through with the blood.

As I toss my gun onto the soft bed, I call out, "Hello? CEO hubby?"

I didn't bother with his name. Too much when they die too easily. I want to give him some base rules. Where is he?

Well, the one place I was not hoping for him to be–the fucking balcony. "You're gonna leave me? After all this... No wanted you and I thought.... and now you are gonna fucking kill yourself?"

"I-I-...." he turned and said. Sighing he comes over like he wants to soothe me. "No... I won't leave."

"Promise?" I prod, the tears running full blast now.

"God's promise..."

Two days in and Obey he does. I told him to take off from work cause he must be exhausted. That's not why I wanted him not to go. And besides he might cheat on me.

"Honey?" I say, watching him flit from stove to stove like an expert. "I saw a dream... and it terrified me."

He halted, and then spun. "This honeymoon... I want us to go.... somewhere private. No cellphones... just a detox" I added, pulling my silk robe closer to my body.

"I think... it's a great idea, babe," he replies, almost too scared to be bold. I hope he doesn't get smart with me.

"Man you're a terrible cook... You just burned our omelette and toast. Get them before you burn down my house..."

He muttered an apology and got our breakfast set. My phone began to rang and I didn't want to deal with another one of those boxes in the wrong hands. I ask him to plan our trip and pack for the both of us.

"And no Bali... it's so... stupid," I add before getting up to go take a thorough shower.

My sunglasses sit on my nose, kinda sliding down and making me pissed–way more than usual. I want him to text me every hour and that is what I told him.

I am only worried, as a dutiful wife. And if he cheats, I'll know. The limo pulls into the docks–the salty air prickling my nose. Besides, we are going on a honeymoon soon and if he leaves now everything will be ruined.

"You... I want someone to keep a keen eye on him. I don't want him to have a medical emergency," I say to my driver as I get out of the limo.

Those boxes have important stuff in them. And those things are mine. I left my husband at home–for good reason, of course. I watch for a few minutes, in case more cops have been alerted.

"Ah, the queen has arrived.... It took you awhile," A man said as he approached me–a t-shirt that's grey and loose pants, several tattoos that look out of place.

"We have a business to get done, peasant," I deadpan, arms crossed over my chest. "Did you invite unauthorized people here?"

And then I add, "I think you must have alerted those idiots about our activity. Tell me why I should let you keep this job. Well?"

His hands were in his pockets as usual, and it was bothering me–like an itch I can't scratch. "What?"

"Empty your pockets.... tell me you won't do anything drastic..." I say, pointing to his pants. Unless, he was a cop all along.