Chapter 9
chapter Nine
Congratulations
Tiffany
Stepping out of the shower, I wrap the towel around me. I’ve been back in my home for a month now. And back to work only one week. I run my hand over the condensation on the bathroom mirror, clearing a path.
I thought it would get easier being back home.
It has not. Every time he and I are in the same room together, we argue.
It can be about the simplest of things. Last night, we argued over which of Noah’s toys he liked the best. Admittedly, Nico never starts the arguments.
It’s just that every time he says something, I have to question it.
I know it’s driving him crazy. Hell, it’s making me crazy.
And when we aren’t in the same room, I spend most of my time trying to distract myself from wanting to fuck him. I’m embarrassed to admit how horny I am for that man. My body and mind are at war. My head calls my body a dumb, horny bitch. And my body calls my head an overthinking dry prude.
Ugh! I can’t even rub one off. I swear I can hear him tiptoeing around the house late at night. The other night I tried to get myself off, and I swear I saw a shadow moving underneath my bedroom door. I quickly closed my legs and rolled over.
After finishing my morning hygiene needs, I headed into the bedroom to get ready for work. I nearly screamed when I found Nico on the bed. His shirt is off, his pajama pants are sitting low, the print lying against his thigh is calling my name. I cut my eyes away from his dick.
Clutching my towel to my chest, I glare at my husband. “Excuse you, knock before you enter my room.” I head to my dresser for some underwear.
“I know your body like the back of my hand. There is no hiding it from me.”
I turn to face him, my black panties in my hand. “Yes, but my body no longer belongs to you.”
I was being pissy for no other reason than to be pissy. Lord knows, this man would always own my body.
Nico chuckles, leaning back on the bed. “You don’t even believe that. I own your body just like I own your orgasms. Why else do you think you can’t get one at night without me?”
The shock of his admission has me frozen in place. I knew I wasn’t crazy. He’s been creeping around my room at night listening to me. For some reason, this angers me more. Hell, we could be fucking right now if not for his lies. He ruined us.
Lifting my chin, I stare at him defiantly. “I never had a hard time getting one before you.”
Nico’s gaze stays glued to me. He stares for so long I have to uncomfortably shift my weight.
“You and I both know, no one has ever fucked you like me.”
Still feeling defiant, I say. “You think so? I imagine Marcus would disagree.”
The energy in the room shifts. His brown eyes seem to go from chocolate brown to jet black. Slowly, he stands to his feet and walks over to me. I back up until my back hits the dresser. He stops right in front of me, his height towering over me.
A low chuckle leaves his lips. “Don’t let your anger get your ex killed…. Oh, that’s right. He’s already dead.”
I gasp. I was disgusted that he could be so casual about someone’s death. A life that he took. Despite the issues I had with Marcus, I didn’t wish him dead.
“You’re sick,” I snarl.
“No, I’m a realest, Tiffany. Marcus was a problem. As long as he was living, he would have continued to put you in harm’s way. Excuse me if I don’t shed a tear over putting a bullet in his fucking head to keep you safe.”
“I’m not asking you to shed a tear, Nico. I just want you to show some remorse for what you did. You haven’t even apologized for kidnapping me.”
He tosses his hands in the air. “And I won’t. You may not like how I went after you, but I did everything I knew to do to get you. To prove to you that I wanted you.”
I shake my head as tears well up in my eyes. This is how it went every day we were in close proximity. The simplest things turned into shouting matches.
“There were other ways to do it.”
He chuckles. “Oh, I see. Would you have preferred I made you wait nine fucking years for an engagement ring? Should I have set you aside while I built my basketball career? Fucked countless women behind your back while you silently and patiently waited for me to commit to you? Is that the bullshit you wanted?”
With each truth he tells, the pain slices into me.
He’s right. Marcus made me wait years and never even hinted at marrying me.
His career was always more important. Then, when the career was over, it was all about recovering and getting on his feet.
And like a desperate fool, I stuck around waiting for any crumb of commitment and love.
I stayed after multiple cheating incidents, a supposed baby, and his career tanking.
“I went after you,” he says, a lot calmer than before. “Because I knew what the fuck I wanted the moment I saw you. You may not like the way I did it, but I will not apologize for that. Ever.”
The room is silent for a moment. The tears that swelled up in my eyes slowly track down my face.
I cannot get this man to understand that although he thinks there was no other way to win me over, there was.
And because he chose to lie, manipulate, and coerce every decision I made to be with him, I can’t trust him.
“Well,” I finally say, roughly swiping a hand over my cheek. “I guess we have nothing else to talk about.”
I walk past him to head back into the bathroom. He grabs my arm and halts my movement. I don’t immediately turn to look at him.
“I’m sorry for yelling at you.” His voice is less harsh than before. “That is never acceptable. Will you forgive me?”
Finally, turning to face him, I let out a deep breath. Honestly, I was tired of arguing with him. I wasn’t over the reason I was mad, but it was draining me to be so pissed all the time. Plus, I started this argument.
“Yeah. I forgive you for yelling.”
He let go of my arm.
“Despite how it turned out, I didn’t come in here to argue. I just wanted you to know that I gave Ms. Rose the day off. Noah and I are hanging together today.”
It’s in moments like this that I remember the man I married. The love he has for his son is beautiful. He has always been a very involved father. Up for the late-night feedings and the early morning ones. Nico has never shied away from dirty diapers or spit-up.
“Are you sure? I figured with the hotel being dried and cleaned you’d be swamped.”
It broke my heart to find out four days ago someone purposely damaged North River.
All the hard work that everyone put into getting that hotel up and running was wasted.
The news said that it was a random attack, probably by delinquent kids.
Now, Nico had to push the grand opening of the hotel back five months.
“The renovation crew is still drying the hotel out. There is nothing else I can do.” The way he looks away from me and runs his hand through his hair tells me this hotel thing is bothering him.
Even with all we have going on, I hate to see him upset.
“Okay, I’ll get Noah dressed for his day with Daddy.”
I head toward the bathroom to finish getting ready.
“I can dress my son.”
Stopping in my tracks, I turn to face him with one hand on my hip. Usually, this would be the start of a new argument, but I didn’t have the energy or the desire.
“Need I remind you of the backwards shirt incident?” My voice is teasing.
He tosses his hands up in the air. “One time, Tiff.”
“Once is enough. I’ll dress him.” I chuckle as I turn and walk into the bathroom, leaving my husband in the bedroom. His laughter trailing me.
Today I was heading to Ezra’s new home for the walkthrough. Jake stops the G-Wagon in front of the large French-style mansion.
“Want me to go in with you?” He asks, looking through the rearview mirror at me.
Gathering my things, I shake my head. “Relax, Jake. I told your boss I would not run again. I don’t need a bodyguard to walk a house.”
Jake doesn’t comment. When I look up at him in the mirror, his gaze is set on the house. He’s looking around as if he’s scared I’m going to get kidnapped. I roll my eyes.
“I’m sure Saint isn’t going to jump out of the bushes and grab me. Especially considering he’s home with our son.” I push open the back door and climb out.
I walk up the stone driveway to the front door. Before I reach the glass front door, it opens and Ezra appears. Today he’s wearing a simple blue shirt and light-wash jeans. His feet are bare.
“Ms. Best. I meant, Basille,” he says jokingly before I can correct him.
“Hello, Mr. Blackwell.”
“Please.” He places a hand on his chest. “Call me Ezra. Mr. Blackwell is my father.”
I grin. “Okay, Ezra.”
I follow him into the house, taking in the place. It’s huge with a beautiful layout, but it definitely needs some updating.
“What do you think?” He stops, standing beside me in the foyer. His woodsy cologne smells nice. It fits him.
“I think we might have our work cut out for us bringing it back into this century.”
He laughs. “What, you’re not a fan of the 80s glass brick?”
“I can’t say that I am.”
“Hey now,” a female voice says from behind me.
I spin around to find an attractive couple. The female looks to be in her early forties. Her eyes are a beautiful hazel color, and her dark brown hair is in those messy beach waves that’s popular, with a side part. She’s dressed in a black sleeveless designer dress and stellar heels.
The guy with her was only slightly older, maybe mid-forties. He was about 5’10, lean with a clean-cut look. The salt and pepper in his hair made him look distinguished.
“I know you two are young, but don’t talk too much junk about the 80s.” Her laughter tells me she’s joking.
“Tiffany, I’d like you to meet my sister, Lauren, and her husband, Benjamin.” Ezra introduces his sister and brother-in-law.
I walk over to them with my hand out. “Hi, I’m Tiffany Basille.”