Chapter 17 #2
I steal his toothpaste, waiting for a reaction, but he continues to ignore me. As I brush my teeth, I jerk my elbow around, hitting him a few times. The man doesn’t even flinch.
When he’s finished, he takes a step back.
I do the same, not even concerned about my skin-care routine for the night.
“Come on,” he instructs. “Time for bed.”
As if his voice is a trance, I follow him.
My phone is no longer on the floor. I’m sure the thief stole it while I was in the shower.
The bedroom has dark gray walls, and deep chocolate-brown bookshelves line one wall. Half the shelves are filled with books.
There’s a framed photo of Emilio with his mother and sister. A long dresser, the same wood as the bookshelf, runs along the wall opposite the bed. A few bottles of cologne are on there.
“Do I need to handcuff you to me tonight, or will you keep your ass in bed?” he asks.
“I’ll stay in bed.” I hold up three fingers in a Scout’s honor sign.
“I’m a light sleeper,” he warns.
“You’re sleeping in here too?” I don’t know why my brain didn’t put two and two together before this. It was too clouded at the sight of him naked.
“It’s my bedroom, and I don’t trust you.” He signals for me to get in bed.
I pull back the covers and slip underneath the crisp gray sheets. He doesn’t move, only stands on the other side.
I turn my back to him, then face him, then turn my back to him before peering over my shoulder, seeing him still standing there. He’s lurking like I did when he was showering.
“I don’t like you staring over me.” I dramatically shudder. “It’s creep city.”
“And I don’t like you being a runaway hazard, but here we are, Liliya.” He turns on the bedside lamp, punches a code into the nightstand, and opens a drawer.
I blink as he pulls out a silver MacBook, then heads to the door to switch off the ceiling light. He strolls across the room, sits in the corner chair, and opens his MacBook. All I hear next is the tap-tap-tap of his fingers hitting the keys.
I flip on my side to face him. “Can I go get my laptop?”
He stops typing. “No.”
“Why do you get yours then?” I huff out, tightening the gray comforter around me as cold air suddenly hits my body.
“Go. To. Sleep.”
“Jerk,” I mutter under my breath before turning my back to him again.
I shut my eyes, knowing it’s stupid to turn my back to him, but if he hasn’t killed me already after everything I’ve done, the chances are, it’s not that high on his priority list. At least not yet.
I’m sure if I keep acting up, that may change.
I try to brainstorm possible ways to kill him before slowly drifting off to sleep.
I wake up to silence.
No tapping of keys.
The lamp is off.
No sign of Emilio.
I slip out of bed and carefully tread toward the door.
It’s shockingly unlocked.
I tiptoe downstairs.
Hearing his voice, I focus on staying quiet and following the sound.
He’s in the parlor room, and the door is closed. I place my palm and ear to the door, trying to listen the best I can.
He’s in the parlor room, and the door is closed. I place my palm and ear to the door, trying to listen the best I can.
“I’ll come there as soon as I can,” he says, keeping his voice low. “She’s hard to keep an eye on right now.” His tone is sad yet frantic at the same time. “Yeah, I know.” A deep sigh. “Love you too.”
The moment he ends the call, I dash back upstairs to bed.
Last time he caught me eavesdropping, he held a knife to my throat and made it a point to nick me with it. My entire body tenses as I hear him walking up the stairs, getting closer to the bedroom.
I turn to the side, facing the chair.
When the door clicks open, I slam my eyes shut and pretend to sleep.
The sound of his footsteps is heavy as he comes closer. I wait for another knife, a gun, something to punish me for my nosiness.
That doesn’t happen.
He turns on the lamp again and settles back into the chair, and as I open one eye, I notice he has my laptop.
I grit my teeth, holding back the urge to say, What the fuck?
He attempts the password once, and I expect him to set it aside in failure.
No chance in hell will he guess Imliterallyjustagirl101.
Under the dim light, he wipes his brow and keys in another attempt. A smirk twitches at his lips as he glides his fingers over the trackpad.
The asshole got in.
I have two options—confront him or feign sleep and allow him to snoop.
I snap my other eye open, fake a yawn, and lift my arms in the air. I wait a few seconds, as if slowly waking up, and peer at him. “Are you on my computer?”
“Yes,” he says, not stopping. “You’ve been watching me on here for the last …” He pauses to check his watch. “Six minutes.”
I lift onto my elbow, using the pillow for support. “How’d you get my password?”
“I know everything about you.” He types something.
“You know nothing about me.”
“Liliya Morozova. Daughter of Susannah and Armen. Your uncle murdered your father, claiming he was a rat but there was little evidence. You attended an all-girls’ school—Grave Prep School.
Growing up, you had a dog named Sparky, who died at the old age of sixteen.
Your father hated him. You’ve had one boyfriend, Kale, which makes me question your sanity to date a man named after food.
You’ve also taken it upon yourself to become a detective of my family’s history, and you play Wordle every day. ”
“Stalker alert,” I mutter, yawning as I sit up in bed. “Now that you know so much about me, tell me about you. It’s only fair.” I ease back, resting against the wooden headboard.
No response. Just more clicking of keys.
“Can you please get off my computer?” I plead in frustration. “That’s an invasion of privacy.”
Still, he doesn’t look up.
Groaning, I swing my legs off the bed. It takes me a moment to find my footing before I stomp over to him. Just as I touch my laptop, he pulls it away.
“Give it,” I snap, crawling over his lap to grab it.
Our eyes meet, his stare burning deep.
For a heartbeat, it softens.
Not for long though.
Using his free hand, he snatches my wrist to restrain me.
I struggle to break free.
“Fight me for it, guaio,” he grits out.
I get in his face, ignoring the awkward position I’m in. “I’m not as weak as you think.”
He leans in until his lips nearly brush mine. “Then, fight me for it.”
I try to reach forward, but he holds me firm. As I slide against his lap, I feel the jerk of his cock beneath his pants. I freeze, my breath hitching as heat warms beneath my skin. He shifts—an effort to hide his excitement for me—but I keep my weight steady.
This time, I’m pinning him in place.
Tingles race through my veins as I lock eyes with him.
His gaze heats as he licks his lips.
I relax against him, sinking deeper onto his lap, and his hold on the laptop loosens.
A loud ring cuts through the air, and his pants vibrate.
I jerk back, and Emilio glances down at his lap. He tosses my laptop over his shoulder, not a care in the world that it’s expensive and could break. Grabbing my waist, he lifts me off his lap.
And just like that, whatever that was is gone.
I back away as he stands and fishes his phone from his pocket.
“Yeah,” he answers, nodding a few times before ending the call.
He waves the phone at me before using it to gesture toward the bed. “Go back to bed.”
I furrow my brow at him. “Are you going to bed?”
“Yes,” he says, surprising me before pulling his tee over his head.
I stomp around the bed and crawl back in, dragging the covers over myself and letting out a dramatic sigh. He slides out of his pants, draping them over the chair, and climbs into bed.
We stay turned away from each other, strangers forced to share a bed.
I hate that I wonder what he’d do if I turned around and reached for him.
Would he touch me back?
Would he want to have sex with me?
Or would he remain the same cold and distant husband?
Before the wedding, I was terrified of him wanting to consummate our marriage.
But now, even though I’m still scared of him, it’s all I can think about.
I thought I could survive a loveless marriage, so long as Emilio didn’t kill me.
Lying beside him now, the thought of that sounds worse than death.
I want more from our marriage.
Love. Connection. Intimacy.
All things Emilio will never give me.
Aleksy said I can have that if I kill him.
A husband who will love me.
One of my choosing.
My body softens as Emilio’s breathing grows steady.
And like a lullaby, it lulls me to sleep.