6. Mira #3
“I thought you said we were going to be roommates. I married you because we were going to live as roommates. Do not do that again,” I warned, breathless and incensed.
The splash of red on his cheek didn’t seem to bother him since he smirked like the asshole he was. “Or what?” he challenged before that high-pitched ringing split the air again. “The security system,” he breathed out when that same ringing split the air again.
Security? What time was it? I looked down at his wrist, the watch’s large face reading nine. Shit. Matteo. He must’ve been down at the front gate.
“Expecting someone?” he asked, backing away toward the entry hall. “I know I’m not.”
Shit, shit, shit. “Actually, I am,” I replied, almost trotting behind him to catch up as he headed toward the front door and the security monitor mounted beside it.
He touched a finger to the screen and pulled up the feed from the gate. My heart sank when I recognized Matteo’s Mustang out there. Why the hell hadn’t he warned me he was on his way? I left my phone upstairs . Where the hell was my head?
“Who is that?” The bastard had the nerve to scowl at me. “You invited a man here tonight?”
And there I was, with an aching clit and the taste of his kiss on my lips. What a mess. “He’s a friend of mine.”
“You’re a married woman now, or did you already forget?” He didn’t wait for me to respond, tapping the screen again. “Yes?” he barked into the microphone.
Matteo leaned through the open window, closer to the speaker mounted on the gate post. “I’m here to see Mirabella.”
“That’s very nice. Who the hell are you?”
“For God’s sake,” I spat. “I invited him over while you and my father celebrated this afternoon. Don’t tell me that’s against the rules when you said yourself this isn’t a real marriage.”
“Matteo Lamberti. I’m only here to see Mira.” Matteo tipped his head back to look up at the camera mounted above the gate. The overhead light made his sandy hair gleam. I saw the confusion written across his face, and it made my heart ache.
Clay didn’t share my opinion. “That’s very nice, Matteo, but my wife is busy at the moment. Good night.”
“Wait a minute!” My voice echoed loudly, but he didn’t seem to care. “Don’t just dismiss him like that! Let’s get one thing straight. I am not going to live locked up like this, unable to see anybody from my actual life. You know, the life nobody seems to give a shit about.”
He folded his arms, leveling a hard, unblinking look at me.
Something about it reached deep into my chest and made me lift my chin to meet the challenge.
“I didn’t go to all this trouble for you to fuck things up by having a man come over not nine hours after we signed the marriage license.
You don’t think your father is going to keep an eye on us, at least at first?
I thought you were supposed to be intelligent. ”
Fuck. He had a point, the bastard. “You don’t know just how intelligent I am.”
“Finally, we can agree on something because right now, I’m ready to call you a dumbass.” He held up a hand to silence me before I could snap. “I don’t care who you want to fuck. We’re married on paper, but you clear visitors with me first.”
My body warmed all over again but for a different reason this time. “Like hell I will.”
“Then you’d better be prepared for a lot of long, lonely nights, princess,” he warned.
The heartless bastard. He deserved so much worse than a single slap. “My father might treat me like a child, but I’m sure as hell not going to put up with it from you.”
His hard gaze moved over me, and I’d be damned if my body didn’t respond in the worst way. This was not the time for my pussy to throw a party, but things were getting downright chaotic with every moment he spent sizing me up.
“Don’t act like a defiant child,” he gritted out, moving close enough that I forgot to breathe. “And I won’t treat you like one.”
“Newsflash.” I stood as tall as I could, though being barefoot didn’t help. “Just because my father gave me to you or whatever does not mean you’re taking his place. Don’t talk to me like that again,” I warned.
One eyebrow slowly lifted, and with it, the fine hairs on my arms. The air crackled. What was he going to do? What did I want him to do? Why the hell was that even a question?
By the time he released a long breath and looked back toward the monitor, I was almost swaying on my feet. “Looks like your friend left,” he observed. “That’s for the best. You’ve got packing to do.”
“Unpacking, you mean.” It was such a relief when he turned away and started back toward his suite. I could control myself when he wasn’t looking at me.
“Don’t tell me what I mean, princess,” he called out over his shoulder, grabbing his sandwich from the kitchen counter. “You weren’t paying attention during lunch, were you? We’re going on a tour, you and me. You’re going to show me all of my new properties.”
Heading for his wing, he gave me one last smirk before disappearing. “Pack your bags, princess. We’re going on our honeymoon.”