28. The morning before
MICHELA
28
Iawake well-rested but disoriented. I rub my eyes, then take in the space around me, at first not recognizing the spare bedroom in Corrado’s apartment. Once I spot Gordon’s duffel on the chair in the corner across from the bed, I fluff up the pillow and hug it before turning onto my right side.
Thinking back on yesterday, I recount the interview, the marriage contract, and my mom’s events and arrive at the garage memories that make me smile. What happened after is a blur, but I think I walked straight into the room and did, in fact, lock the door that I wish Corrado had knocked down like a Viking on his way to pillage my virginity.
I cover my head. Under the comforter, I giggle like a little girl and then check the time.
Unsure when I start work, but wanting to get there early, I figure I’ll shower and get ready. But first, bathroom and coffee.
I walk into the bathroom. Since I’m still groggy because my brain’s in a fog before I drink coffee in the morning, the running water in the shower doesn’t register, and neither does the fact that the apartment has one large bathroom with access from both rooms since the room was designed as an office space and converted into a guest room.
I walk straight to the toilet partition. After closing the door, I do my business, then walk out to a nude Corrado standing in the glass shower.
Immediately, I stop, and if I thought my brain short-circuited before, now it’s a blank canvas, which doesn’t stay blank very long because Corrado’s body fills it. He’s tanned, with dark hair covering a broad chest. Thick thighs flex as my gaze touches them. I’m trying not to look between his legs, but he makes it almost impossible when he looks down at his hardening cock.
Corrado pushes open the glass door, and I jump back as he steps out, then whips the towel from the hook, almost ripping it before securing it over his middle. He marches toward me with purpose. I scoot as far back as I can. My butt hits the wall, and I start side-stepping toward my bedroom door.
Corrado’s hand shoots out and stops me. He pins me in place and, with a smirk, reaches behind me. “Forgot to lock from your side.” He twists the now-locked door so I can hear I’m trapped in here with him.
Strands of dark, wet hair fall over his eyes, and he smells fresh and inviting.
“Good morning, wife,” he says. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m using the bathroom.”
“With me?”
I gulp. “Um, it’s early. I know nothing before coffee.”
“You should’ve gotten coffee first, then.”
“I’m on my way now.”
“I don’t think so.”
I frown. “Why not?”
“Because you’re getting in the shower.” He pushes off the wall and snatches a hand towel for his hair. Biceps flex and relax as Corrado fluffs his hair, then throws the towel under the sink. It falls into a small laundry basket.
The bath towel around his waist rides low on his hips. Any more jerky movements, and it’ll fall off. I don’t know if I want it to fall off or stay on. Okay, no, I do know. I want it to fall.
In case it does, I look away, covertly keeping it in the corner of my left eye.
“Michela,” he says as he puts toothpaste on the blue toothbrush. “Get in the shower.”
I scrub my face. “I want coffee, and I need to sit down for a moment or an hour before I can function. I can’t wake up and take off like an airplane.”
“I’ve been up for two hours now.”
“Jesus.”
“Amen,” he says. “Still, you’re stripping and showering while I’m watching. It’s only fair since you watched me.” Corrado starts brushing his teeth. When I’m not doing as told, his eyes narrow, and he withdraws his brush. “You don’t want to test me.” He spits and rinses out his mouth, gaze on me in the mirror.
I reach for the hem of my pajama dress and pull it over my head. It leaves me in my underwear. They’re cotton, but black, so at least somewhat sexier than white ones. Judging by the way Corrado looks at me, I’m sure he doesn’t care what color they are.
I hook my fingers in the waistband of my panties and pull them down, then step out of them and turn on my toes toward the shower. A hand comes out and grabs me before I get to the glass door.
Corrado’s body is as hot as if he’s burning with fever. Or as if he’s the devil who just walked out of hell to grab me. His jaw works, and he growls, then presses his lips on my forehead and says, “I’m going to fuck the living daylights out of you.” He releases me, spins me around, and smacks my behind. “The shower.”
I rub my bottom as I walk into the shower and turn on the warm water by using one lever and turning it right down the middle. No need to fiddle with two leaking faucets and pray you turned it just right and also no worries that nobody else in the building is using the shower. Or the toilet.
Corrado disappears into his room and returns just as I’m finishing up. He’s dressed in a black suit over a black shirt, his tie still a little loose around the top button. He leans against the counter and watches me.
I turn off the water and step outside, grab the towel, and notice how he’s looking at me and licking his lips, how he’s showing me he’s attracted to me. It feels amazing to be desired by him. The display of affection makes me think the marriage came about naturally. In truth, it’s arranged, a product of Corrado’s quick thinking and my needs. But still, it feels good to be desired.
He passes me a toothbrush he must’ve prepared while I showered.
I brush my teeth.
“Do you have questions for me?” he asks.
Mouth full of toothpaste, I shake my head.
“You will, I’m sure.”
I rinse and wipe my mouth with a clean towel and place it on the counter, but the towel he discarded catches my eye. I go to pick it up, but Corrado grabs my arm the way he grabbed it when I dropped the jewelry box in the restaurant.
Seeing as how he’s managing the morning for both of us, I wait for further instructions. He checks his golden watch. “Housekeeping comes every day while we’re at work. We also have drivers, assistants, and all kinds of jobs that people we hire do for us.”
“Do we have a cook?” I ask.
“We order out from Chef Tanaka. He can be trusted not to poison either of us.”
“You say that like you’re talking about the weather.”
“Mmhm, some poisons can’t be detected, and I don’t like taking chances.”
That flew right over his head. I was trying to point out the fact that he spoke of murder as if it were rainy outside, and Chef Tanaka has the best umbrellas.
“Sounds to me like I don’t have any housework.”
“I’m your housework, angel, and I think you’ll find your hands full.”
Full of what? Is he flirting with me? He is, and it’s working, because heat is crawling up my cheeks. Trying to hide it, I look away, but he forces me to look at him by grabbing my chin and pushing my face up.
“Meet me outside for breakfast, and we can agree on the logistics of our schedules.”
Schedules?