Chapter 11 #2
I huff out a defeated sigh, scolding my own thoughts as I flip my legs out of bed. Prodding across the floor to run into the bathroom, I quickly brush my teeth before jumping in the shower. Once I’m dressed, I head for the door, intending to get some breakfast.
But as soon as I open it, he’s there. Well, more like his bare chest is.
“Dante? Where have you been?” I try to avoid staring at his chiseled muscles and those thick slopes of his arms.
His jaw tics as his eyes land on my tight, green tank top. My breaths intensify every time he looks at me so hungrily, so depravedly.
My reaction is almost instantaneous. I can’t stop my eyes from slowly sliding down his bare torso. He shouldn’t be allowed to walk around without a shirt on. It’s unfair.
And those gray sweats…my God. They ride too low on his hips, exposing a hint of the V leading to that thick shaft I felt not long ago.
I grow achy and warm between my thighs, the need for him to touch me only getting stronger.
“I was out,” he finally answers, but there’s something cold in his tone.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” The words whip across me like an arctic chill. “I was coming to get you for breakfast.”
“Oh. Thanks.” My lips flicker with a barely there smile, muddled with the confusion stemming from his mood.
“No big deal.” He starts walking away. “So, you coming or what?”
“Uh, yeah. Did you just get home?” I shut my door, joining him down the stairs.
“Nah. I got in pretty late.” He avoids my eyes as we make it down.
“Where did you sleep, then?”
“In another room.”
Thud.
Thud.
My pulse slams in my neck, my heart rate kicking up to an uncontrollable pace.
“Oh. I thought you’d, um…” Nerves clog my throat.
“Thought what?” he asks with an edge.
“Thought you’d join me when you got home.”
Why do I sound so needy? What the hell is wrong with me?
We make it to the kitchen, where Janet greets us.
“Good morning, you lovebirds. I hope you slept well.”
I glance at Dante, who looks pissed. The irritation might as well be branded on his face.
Janet gives him a curious look, and her stare narrows as he grabs a plate of pancakes and sausage from her, keeping his eyes glued to the food.
“Well, let me leave you two,” she adds, grabbing her black handbag from the counter. “Enjoy your meal. I’ll be back for lunch.”
“Thank you,” I tell her. “This looks great.”
“You’re very welcome. Have a good day.”
“You too.”
As soon as she walks out of the room, I spin toward Dante with a hand on my hip.
“What the hell is wrong with you this morning?” I shout through a whisper, hoping she isn’t still close enough to hear us.
The front door closes before he answers.
“Excuse me?” He drops his fork against the plate; the sound resonates through the space.
“You heard me! You haven’t been yourself since the moment I saw you today. What’s going on? Did I do something to piss you off?”
He inhales deeply, rubbing the back of his neck, but still managing not to avoid me. “I had a lot of time to think last night. About us. And—”
“And what?” The words drip with a thick trail of annoyance. “Say whatever you clearly need to get off your chest.”
He sighs. “We need to keep our arrangement to strictly business. No more messing around. No more sharing a bedroom.”
My shoulders tense up, my muscles going rigid. Confusion and nerves settle in the pit of my stomach.
“What happened to your precious deal? What happened to your seller finding out if we don’t share a room?”
“He won’t. I’ll make sure of it.”
“How convenient!” My exhale practically slices out of me.
Why is he doing this? And why do I care? Isn’t this what I wanted from the beginning? For us to have different rooms? To not grow attached? Well, problem solved.
Maybe he met someone else. Someone more interesting than I am. Why else would he do such a one-eighty?
He probably regrets marrying me now that he met her and wishes he could be with this new woman instead. Now he’s stuck with me because he feels obligated to help.
“Fine,” I say, standing up and taking my plate to the garbage. “Whatever.”
“What the fuck are you doing?”
“What the fuck does it look like?” I grin, my narrowed eyes level to his as I toss the food in the trash.
That could’ve fed a homeless person, and here I am throwing it away like it’s nothing. But if he plans on treating me like shit while I’m living here, then I don’t have to eat his food. Well, at least not right this moment. I may have to re-think lunch.
“You’re clearly mad, so your answer is starvation?”
We lock eyes as he cracks an amused smirk, arms crossing over his chest.
“I’m not mad.” I bend my lips into a snarl. “At all.”
“Right,” he mutters. “’Cause you look real happy.”
“Put on a damn shirt!” I yell, my hands raised in frustration. “Who eats naked?”
“I did tell you I enjoy being naked.” He stands, fingers at his waistband. “The pants are just for you. I can always take them off. I know how much you want it.”
“I hate you!” I drop my plate on the counter with a clank. “Stay the hell away from me.”
And I mean that. I’m done with Dante Cavaleri, fake husband or not. We can cohabitate for the next few months, but he can get the hell out of my way while we’re doing it.
“Won’t be a problem,” he calls out after I’m already steps away.
“Great!” I shout back. “Asshole.”
And I know he heard that.
How did I go from worrying I’d fall in love with him to not knowing how I’ll survive without his kindness?