15. Carmie
Chapter 15
Carmie
I thought about dumping my boxes in the master bedroom, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Instead, I had Luca carry it all into the guest room, and if he found that weird, he didn’t make any comments about it.
Probably because I would’ve bitten his goddamn head off if he tried.
Still, there was a moment, just as he was about to leave, where he turned around and gave me a big hug like we were still little kids again. “You’ll be okay,” he said, squeezing. “And if you’re not, I’ll kill him. Daniel will too.”
“Really? Daniel gives a shit?”
“You know him. Dan’s got trouble expressing his emotions, but he cares.” Luca stepped back and gave me an awkward grin. “Tell your husband I said hello.”
“My husband and I aren’t exactly speaking at the moment.”
He looked like he wanted to ask but only shook his head. “I’d rather not know.”
And he was right. It’s better if he doesn’t.
I dig through my stuff and start to put clothes away in the drawers. I’m thinking about my life, about what I wanted, and how I ended up here instead. I never asked for much—a little freedom maybe, a little space to have friends and find my place in the world—but even that ended up being too much.
Instead, I was always nothing more than a bargaining chip.
I try not to let the bitterness get to me, but I’m at a really low point when I open the box with my fencing equipment inside.
I stare down at the jacket and slowly lift it out. It was pure white once, but now it’s slightly graying from use, and there’s a little blood stain on the sleeve where I cut myself during practice one morning. I smile, thinking about the rush I felt on the fencing piste, lunging forward and scoring a hit and ripping out my wild battle victory scream. Nothing felt better than ending the match with a sore throat from all the shouting.
Saber was my preferred style, and that’s all about aggression, reading your opponent, and timing. I was good : never afraid to take the initiative and clinical in my finishing.
Without letting myself think too much about it, I start to dress in my old uniform. Breeches, plastron, chest protector, jacket, socks, and shoes. I stare at myself in the mirror and try not to let myself cry.
That’s the girl I remember. The girl I wish I could be again.
The fucking warrior .
There’s a noise on the stairs. A strange jolt of panic hits me. I don’t know why, but I don’t want Lev to see me like this. I strip off the jacket, remove the chest protector, and I’m just pulling on a baggy sweatshirt to cover up when he knocks at the door and opens it.
“Aren’t you supposed to wait for me to tell you to come in?” I say, annoyed as he looks in at me.
Lev’s got his mask on. That charming smirk’s on his lips. He’s handsome, and I hate myself every time I see him. My heart races when he’s around and the memory of his hands on my body comes back unbidden. The sheer sexual intensity. How incredible to feel. How it was like I was that woman again. The one from the piste. The fencer, using my body. Not quite the same thing, but pretty close.
“You’re unpacking in the wrong room,” he says, surveying the place.
“I thought about your suggestion and decided to ignore it.”
“Didn’t realize it was an option.”
“Are we done bickering now? Can I go back to work?” I cross my arms, sweat beading my back. I don’t know why but the way he looks at me makes me so freaking nervous.
His eyes scan the mess. I can tell he’s not particularly impressed, at least until he spots the jacket I discarded on top of a pile of underwear. His face lights up again. I don’t love the sudden mischievous expression.
“Is that what I think it is?” he asks.
I pick up the jacket and toss it onto the bed. “It’s nothing. Just my old fencing kit, that’s all.”
“I didn’t know you still fenced.”
“Sometimes. I don’t know.” I clear my throat, not sure why I’m not being honest. “It’s been a while.”
“When was the last time you put that on?”
Five minutes ago . “Honestly, why do you care? I don’t even know why I brought it.”
“I want to see you wear it.”
For a second, I think he’s kidding. But the charming smile’s fading as he stares at me like he’s about to stalk across the room and make me put on the jacket. And nothing but the jacket.
A chill runs down my spine. That’s the same look from that night. The pure, animalistic lust, the physical need. It’s terrifying, but it makes my heart race out of control.
“I don’t think it’ll fit,” I say stupidly, and it’s not even a good lie.
“Let’s find out.” He steps into the room. “Take off the sweatshirt.”
“What? Right now?”
“I’ll watch.”
“How about we aren’t doing any of that?”
He licks his lips and looks down at me. “You have the pants on already, don’t you?” His expression darkens. “You were playing dress-up already.”
Well, shit. I guess he’s more observant than I realized. The sweatshirt’s big and nearly down to my knees, but it’s kind of hard to hide the very distinct white cotton breeches.
“I was just testing it, okay?”
“Test it again.”
“I’m not doing this.”
“And I’m not asking.” He moves toward me. “Put on the outfit, Carmie.”
My breath catches in my throat. Why does this excite me so much? Something about him wanting to look at me makes the pulse between my legs skyrocket.
“Will you get out of here if I do?” I ask, barely able to get the words out.
He tilts his head like he’s considering. “I’m not sure what I’m going to do with you yet.”
I have to fight not to whimper at that, because holy shit . The dripping innuendo makes my knees shake.
“Turn around.”
He hesitates. I can tell he doesn’t want to. But I may be out of my mind, except I’m not an idiot. There’s no way I’m undressing in front of him.
Slowly though, he turns his back to me and leans against the doorframe. “I’m impatient,” he says softly, which nearly makes me scream.
Impatient to see me play dress-up for him.
I take off the sweatshirt. I skip the chest protector since it’s just a big, restrictive padded bra anyway meant to protect a female fencer from a hard touch. I shrug on the jacket, trembling slightly as I button it up and turn to him.
“Alright, you can look.”
He turns back around. And he stares .
I’ve never felt more vulnerable in my life. Not even when I gave him my virginity for the first time. That night was something I wanted. I felt like I was at least partially in control. But this is totally different. This is what he wants, and I’m doing it because he likes it, and that’s a power dynamic I wasn’t expecting.
I like the way his eyes rake up and down. Fencing costumes aren’t exactly the sexiest things in the world—they’re basically giant white jumpsuits—but the way he’s drinking me down makes it feel like I’m standing ass naked in here. My nipples are stiff, and I’m tingling like crazy between my legs, and my breath’s coming in fast, and I don’t know what I’m going to do if he comes any closer.
His jaw flexes. He takes a deep breath and blows it out like he’s struggling to keep himself under control.
“It fits,” he says.
“I was pretty surprised too,” I say awkwardly.
“You look good. You look… like you should have that on.”
“Thank you?” I’m not even sure what that’s supposed to mean, but he’s clearly into this right now. The tension between us is electric, and one wrong move, one wrong word, could set this whole place on fire.
And I’m not sure that’s what I want right now.
Considering how complicated our relationship is.
“You should wear it more often. I have space… down in the basement. If you wanted to start training again.”
My eyebrows raise. That is not what I expected. “Really? You’d do that?”
“I can clear it out. Get you what you need.” He stares into my eyes. There’s a depth to him that I didn’t expect. I knew his charm and magnetism hid a darkness behind it, but this is new.
It’s almost like he cares.
“I’d like that,” I say very softly, too taken aback to be anything but sincere.
“But you have to wear that for me when you train.” He licks his lips again.
“You’re going to get us both in trouble with that.”
“I think you like trouble.”
“And you don’t know me at all, remember?”
His smile comes back like he’s forcing it. “I want you to see a doctor and get approval before you start working out again. But once you do that, I’ll give you anything you need.”
My heart skips a beat. I almost forgot that I was pregnant. For a second, I was just Carmie, a woman he’s clearly into.
But no, I’m just the pregnant wife.
I wrap my arms around myself almost as if I’m trying to cover my exposed body. “I’ll look into it.”
“You should.” He hesitates and obviously he wants to keep looking at me, but I’m finished now. That comment about a doctor dragged me back to reality.
“I’m going to finish unpacking.” I gesture at the door. “And I’m going to get changed again.”
“I’ll make an appointment with the OB.”
“I can find my own doctor, thanks.” Excitement gets flushed away and replaced with annoyance. I swear, this guy knows exactly what to say to piss me off already. It’s his superpower.
“I’ll handle it.” He leaves my room before I can argue, and I’m cursing under my breath as I close the door behind him.
My heart’s racing and I’m a shaky mess like I’m coming down from adrenaline as I strip out of my fencing gear for the second time and put my normal clothes back on. There was a moment where I would’ve done anything he wanted, so long as he kept looking at me like it was me he wanted.
But that’s not how this works.
We were thrown together—and if I’m going to get through this marriage, I have to start seeing him for what he is.
The enemy.